#I'm completely wasting my time and i can't seem to find a way out of this self-deprecation loop

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most. 

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars. 

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times. 

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

[jetii]

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit. 

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson. 

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to. 

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster. 

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you. 

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open. 

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell. 

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust. 

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it. 

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you. 

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild

[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️

kaveh simp guy again. I see your requests are open! if it's not too much trouble, can I request a monster reader with nature explorer kaveh thing? he's been on my mind and I'm just HRRRNGHGHH I NEED HIM.

Author's Note: Hello again! I made the reader a plant-like monster, hopefully that's something a little different from my other monster fics haha 😅 — I do hope you enjoy this, Kaveh simp! 💚

Pairings: Kaveh x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, explorer!Kaveh, sub/bottom!Kaveh, soft noncon, praise, double penetration (reader has 2 dicks), vine tentacles, cumflation, aphrodisiacs, throatfucking

Sent out to the hottest, dampest, foggiest rainforest alone, our beloved explorer grumbles to himself as he cuts down another entanglement of thick vines that block his path.

He's sweaty, he's irked at his workplace for dumping this assignment onto his shoulders, and he can't see his own nose in front of him in this place! Kaveh only wishes for this trip to end soon. If only these stupid flowers didn't require such specific conditions to grow in. Why must it be so difficult to find them?!

Just as another complaint crosses his mind, Kaveh finds himself staring at a small patch of the exact flowers he'd been searching for! Bright yellow petals with flecks of purple and red, surrounded by thorny vines, and somewhat in the shade. Yep, these were it, alright!

Kaveh carefully reaches forward to pick one, but just as his fingertips brush against the stem, something wraps around his ankles, snaking up his body in an instant.

Thick, firm vines hold his limbs in place, and one even wraps itself around his throat loosely. Kaveh can no longer move. In a panic, he yells, “Hey! What is this?! Someone get me out!” though he knows he is all alone here.

Kaveh flinches as something makes contact with his hips, grabbing them, while something else pushes against his butt. A pair of lips kiss behind his ear, and begin to trail down a bit, sucking on the skin of his shoulder until it becomes reddish.

“Oh, my darling, you're exceptionally beautiful, aren't you?” A hypnotic voice chimes. The voice resonates in the back of the explorer's mind, sending a sensation through his body that makes him feel even warmer than before.

His breaths don't feel complete. He is breathing, but it doesn't feel quite right. There's not enough air filling his lungs, and his vision blurs as his panicking increases.

“Hmm… you smell nice too. Almost makes me want to eat you up~”

—

You waste no time finding a way inside of the explorer's body. Human clothing is annoying, but tears easily. One of your vines pushes right through the cloth covering the explorer's ass, plunging in without warning or prep, though the natural slime they secrete does help with the pain, at least a little.

The human's moans sound so pitiful — though they turn sluttier by the second, as every thrust deeper inside of his warm walls clearly brings him satisfaction.

Good human. You think to yourself, pressing closer to his body, your own arousal clearly poking his ass cheek.

Kaveh's sounds become muffled when another thick, green vine pushes past his lips. The girth of the vine pushes his head back and forth as it enters and exits his mouth, bringing many lovely noises as he tries not to choke on the thing.

Once again, without warning, the vine violating his hole slips out, and gets immediately replaced by something much, much thicker and wetter — one of your fat cocks impales Kaveh's ass selfishly, which causes him to squeeze his eyes shut until tears form.

More of his clothes are ripped in the process of you exploring the explorer's soft body. His skin is so beautiful glistening with sweat, and sensitive too. It seems like every time your fingers or small vines brush against his chest, he shivers and clenches around your cock.

Your cock throbs and stretches his poor ass so much, there's no way you won't leave him gaping once you're finished. In which case; why not continue filling him up?

If the human can handle one of your dicks, surely both of them won't hurt too much?

Pushing in a second, fat, bumpy cock proves to be just what the explorer needed to spill those tears. It's a sight so pitiful, it makes you want to swallow him whole and keep him forever. His tears — his pleasure — they should all belong to you.

“You're taking so much, beautiful. I'm impressed. Your body appears delicate, but you take my cocks with little resistance, no?” He's unable to answer, but the slight twitch of his own cock proves to be an answer all on its own.

For this, you decide to reward him; pushing the vine further down Kaveh's throat and picking up the speed of your thrusts. You hit so deep inside of him, Kaveh's unsure how to handle this much pleasure at once — and you're not even touching his dick, though it aches for some form of stimulation. Instead, you leave it to drool precum onto the ground, bobbing along with your pounding.

A warm, gelatinous fluid soon fills the explorer's little holes, filling him from both ends until his belly swells. The sweet taste lingers on his tongue as your vine exits his mouth.

A few more spurts cover Kaveh's body, dripping down his adorable butt and face. Your scent surrounds him now, and that only serves to further pull him into your grasp. Kaveh blinks a couple times, dazedly turning his head to face you.

You pull him against your chest, using a few stronger vines to lift him so that he no longer has to focus on standing upright. You allow him to rest, and he does. He drifts off in your arms — like a prince after a long journey.

[moonydustx]

a/n: taking a short break from requests to bring this here. I'll be back next week replying to whoever sent it, I'm really looking forward to it (seriously, don't kill me, I had some problems at work and ended up messing up my schedule).

Who breaks first?

F!Reader x Ace

warnings: smut, kinda of dom!F!reader e sub!, sweet boy Ace is begging for some laid here. Dirty talk, sorta of a pre-established relationship. Not proofread, may contain some errors.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | +18

"I can't wait until we find a good island, with good girls…" Thatch pointed out, downing the rest of the beer in his glass. "It's been decades."

"You mean days." Marcos corrected him.

"You men, can't you not think about it?" you pointed out, seeing them laugh. "What's the problem?"

"The person said that every other night he's waking up the entire ship." Izou leaned on you, in an almost theatrical way. "Oh Ace, don't stop. Please Ace, give me more." He tuned his voice in order to imitate you.

"That doesn't mean I only think about it." you pushed him away and on the other side of the table, you saw Ace laugh cynically. "And what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I mean, I'm not the one who seems to only think about it, or beg for it." upon seeing your sullen face, he pointed at his colleague. "I'm speaking based on what Izou said."

"I would stop the joke here, you could be entering dangerous waters." Marco warned him, but was completely ignored.

"I agree with the little bird." your challenging gaze turned to him. "There's no point complaining later."

"Complain? Well, it's a good thing we're getting to the next island, isn't it Thatch?" Ace's laugh was more to tease you than for any other reason. This time, you would allow yourself to fall into his pile, even if on purpose.

"Good to know, Mr. Portgas." a pretentious smile crossed your expression. "Island pussies will be the next and only ones you'll see."

The commotion between the friends brought a common redness to Ace's face, eliciting almost evil laughter from you. That same night, as you were getting ready for bed, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, wet lips slide down the back of your neck.

"You know I was joking, don't you?" Ace whispered, placing a kiss on the corner of your neck that he knew was your weak face. One of his hands slipped inside your shorts, his fingers played with the elastic of your panties. "Let me make it up to you for today?"

"But I wasn't kidding." Begrudgingly, you pulled away from him, turning to look at Ace's frustrated face. "Go after the women on the island."

"You don't have to be so mean."

"Or you'll have to beg." you pointed out, unable to hide the malice in your words. That didn't go unnoticed by Ace, who took a few steps back.

"So this is going to be a little game." He sat on the bed, arms back supporting his body, legs parted highlighting the bulge in his shorts. "Whoever begs first loses?"

"Not whoever begs first." you moved closer, pretending to sit on his lap, just enough to move away and lie down on the bed, facing away from his body. "You're the one who's going to beg. Good night, fire fists."

Ace wasted a good few minutes there, contemplating how low a game you had played at that moment. He wouldn't break the small bet first, at least that's what he thought.

The next day, hunting through the clothes you had, you picked out the ones you knew were his favorites. No comfortable pajamas or loose clothes until he gave in. You knew it would be a difficult bet, but this time you would emerge victorious.

Sundress on your skin, floral perfume and lips red as fire, you knew how to play your cards.

"Hi guys!" you approached the small circle that was engaged in some kind of conversation. You noticed three immediate reactions, Marco and Izou who laughed knowing full well what you were doing and Ace, who seemed to be lost in some kind of mirage.

"I know about your commitment, but it would be unfair if I let it go unnoticed." Vista pulled out some rose petals and handed them to you. "You look beautiful today."

"Thank you Vi." You purposely walked past them and leaned on the edge of the ship, feeling the wind move the hem of your dress. "How long until the island?"

"I-I guess one day, miss." you heard one of the boys murmur and then your boyfriend's voice shouted at him.

"I see what you're looking at!" you didn't even need to look back, knowing that Ace was touching all the brothers there. "Everyone disappear, go, circulate."

"What's wrong, darling?"

"What is wrong?" he came to you. His hands pointed indignantly at your body. "What is that?"

"A dress. Don't like it?" His growl of frustration made you laugh.

"You know very well that's not the problem." he leaned closer, almost whispering. "The problem is actually the incredible opposite of that."

"It's a shame, my little flame." you snuck up to reach his ear. "Although, seeing you all jealous like that makes me sooo wet. Too bad you can't see it, or taste it."

That sentence was enough to guarantee, firstly, Ace's bad mood, damn the time he was falling for such a bet, and secondly, another dose of overprotectiveness from Ace, after all, no one would watch his girl. Whether it was while you were parading around in your sundress, or when the next day you showed up in an even shorter one and wearing just a bikini over it, or when you decided to sleep wearing just one of his t-shirts.

A week had already passed since the small bet. Maybe Ace had taken your possible hurt too seriously, especially because he refused to disembark - until he saw you go to the village wearing another one of the clothes that drove him crazy and he wouldn't have been crazy enough to leave you parading alone.

Night had already fallen at Moby Dick and most of your colleagues were asleep when you reached your room. Of all things, you didn't expect to find Ace sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand wrapped in your panties and the other sliding over his cock.

"Looks like someone is having a hard time." you murmured, hearing him groan and turn towards you. "Ready to beg?"

"I bet you'll beg first." his husky voice punctuated, as if the sight of him masturbating in front of you wasn’t enough to turn you on.

"That's a game two can play, my love." you locked the door behind you and allowed your dress to turn into a puddle of fabric at your feet.

"No panties, all day?" you gave a smug smile when you saw that you had stolen his attention. Ignoring the question, you walked to the other side of the room.

"Do you see anything interesting?" you patiently dragged the chair in front of where Ace was sitting. Using the same patience, you sat down on the chair and let each of your legs rest beside him, giving him a privileged view.

"Fuck." he muttered. "You're not going to do that to me, are you?"

"I'm not going to lie, it's been a tough few days." Your hand slid across your breasts, paying little attention to them, after all your objective was different.

Your fingers separated your pussy lips, the shine indicating how wet you were made Ace tighten his grip against his own cock. You used your two middle fingers to slowly circle your clit.

"It's so hard to use just my fingers, my love." you penetrated one of your fingers inside you, slowly and giving a drawn out moan. "I miss you so much, you're so much better at this than me."

"Just ask." His voice was broken, his eyes focused on your intimacy.

"I'm not going to - fuck - give up." another finger accompanied the entry of intimacy, in a slow back and forth that was excruciating for you and your viewer. "But it's burning so much babe, I miss you so much in here."

You continued moving your fingers slowly, seeing that Ace no longer paid attention to his movements but to yours. The tip of his dick was almost red from the pressure of his closed fist, precum glistening and oozing from it. You took your fingers out of your intimate area and pretended to take them to Ace's mouth, when he opened them ready to taste, you put them in your mouth, moaning just to tease him.

"You're right when you say I'm delicious." you, millimeters away from him, made a point of licking finger after finger that was in contact with your pussy. "Too bad bad boys can't prove that."

"Please." the request was barely audible. "Babe, please."

"I don't think I heard you right. You're going to have to beg a little more." You closed your legs and leaned back against the chair.

"Please, love, let me taste you a little. You're so wet, I just want to feel you a little, please." he started to ask, his hands were now pressing hard against the bed sheet, a way to contain himself and not advance on you. "Fuck, please, baby, just a little."

"Such a good boy." You grabbed his chin and pulled away again. "Come on, you can taste some."

The words barely left your mouth and Ace was already on his knees on the floor. His hands separating your legs and this time, resting them on his shoulders. His tongue - warmer than usual - slid all over your pussy, bringing some of the relief you had waited for so long.

"No, no, no my dear." you asked as you saw one of his hands slide out of your reach. "You've been a bad boy these days and that's why you can't touch yourself."

"Y-Yes ma'am." he pulled away from your lower lips to respond. His hand, which went down to his dick, went up to your intimacy, inserting his fingers without any warning. "Can I do that? Fuck you like that? It's so tight."

"Please, Ace." Your request sounded like music to his ears, which accelerated the small thrusts he made while holding your clitoris between his lips.

Your hand got tangled in his dark hair and pulled him away from your intimacy. You stood up and he remained on his knees there, waiting for the next order. That was already an old thing between the two of you and the days of waiting only made it even more enjoyable.

You motioned for him to stand and took his lips to yourself. The taste of you stuck in his mouth along with the moans he made could be almost enough to get you there, but you needed more. You pushed Ace onto the bed, laying him down and placing his hands under the pillow. Before sinking down on his cock, you let your hips rub your intimacy soaked by his length.

“I’m begging you” he pleaded, trying to lunge at you. "Just let me fuck you, just a little. I already did what you wanted, begging and leaving me suffering like this is too mean."

"Does my little flame want to cum?" You slid down, feeling inch by inch of him impaling you. Your moans were contained, remembering the comments of your friends who heard you. "Just a little more and I promise to let you fill me up." you moved slowly, only to leave him frustrated.

"Honey, please." his voice was squeaky, the pillow over his hands had become a mash of cotton and fabric. "Please, just ride for me. Just move, please."

"Like this?" You let his cock move in and out a few times, hearing him moan loudly.

"Exactly like that, please." you increased your pace.

It was like having a private ego booster. Each time your hips met the base of his cock, you could hear the moans increase - theirs and yours. The ends of the pillow began to turn to ashes as you remained on top of Ace, looking for both of you to orgasm.

"Keep it up, your pussy is squeezing me so good, so fucking good. I can't hold back anymore, babe."

"Poor Ace." you slid out of him, seeing him grunt. The little torture was too much even for you. Before letting him in again, you took his hands from under the pillow and brought them to your hips. "Can you help me?"

It was like awakening a sleeping monster, or releasing a beast that had been caged for decades. Ace immediately turned you over on the bed and your legs met his shoulders. He could bend you in half there, you really liked it when he took the reins to complain. It didn't take many thrusts for you to become a mess beneath him, holding your tongue so you wouldn't become the one begging.

"That's how you like it, isn't it? Feeling me so deep in that pussy, so delicious, so mine" Ace pressed you even more, eliciting a scream mixed with a moan from inside you. "Is this how you want it, my princess?"

"I -I…Ace!"

"No need to beg, babe." One of his fingers began to circle your clitoris as quickly as he was thrusting deep into you. "Just cum with me, please. Let me feel you cumming so good around me." your orgasm became just a blur in your vision, as Ace filled you. The heat that his cum brought inside you was capable of making you cum again.

Before he threw himself on your side of the bed, Ace took your lips in a deep kiss and even when he lay down, his hands slid down your back, giving you goosebumps that you knew very well what they meant.

"You lost." your voice came out weaker than before.

"Yeah, I lost." unlike your voice, his came out provocative. His fingertips seemed to get hotter and hotter as he traced your skin. "For my defeat, tomorrow I take your services."

"This is a great prize." you laughed, turning your head to meet his attentive gaze. "Ace?"

"Just ask, my princess."

"As I've already won and now it's worthless…" you pulled his hand to your lips, teasing kisses falling between his fingers. "Fuck me just a little more, please, I want to feel you a little more. I missed you so much."

A weak laugh came from Ace and his hand that was on your lips came down to clamp against your throat.

"I don't think I heard you right. You're going to have to beg a little more."

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Last Part

Word Count: 13.8k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, dom!gyu, sub!reader, fingering, handjobs, missionary, doggy, mentions of previous noncon, yandere behaviour, violence, bodily harm, alienation

You still have the dreams, the memories, the torment. They never went away despite you trying your goddamn hardest. Your brain seems to conjure them up harder and more vividly the more you work to push them away. You don't know if Beomgyu knows this but he's beside you every possible second of every day, keeping you busy and helping to push it all away, or at least distract you from it. 

You've quit your job. Beomgyu isn't unreasonable. He will help you get another job, just as soon as you feel better. But not right now. You're not ready yet. You need rest and he makes sure you get it, devoting every second he's not at his job or getting you food and stuff you need to taking care of you.

He wanted you to move away, just pack your things and get away from this place that had brought you both such grief, but you couldn't go through with it. Not yet. You had freaked out when he suggested it, telling you it would do you good to get a fresh start and get away from Taehyun but you know he wouldn't be the only one you'd be getting away from. All your friends are here. Your family is here. And even though you're hardly seeing them right now, you know it wouldn't be right to completely uproot yourself from everything you've ever known except Beomgyu. Even though you'd promised to completely and fully devote yourself to only him, you know it can't be good for your already unstable mental state.

You tell him that you'd feel so terribly alone if you move away, especially when he goes to work. So he offers to quit his job to spend all his time with you, explaining that he has put aside some savings he could use for the time being but you still refuse. You tell him that you'd be horribly selfish to let him waste the little precious money he saved up just so he can babysit you but you don’t tell him about how much it scares you to cross that last boundary, to let him completely and utterly devour your entire life despite something at the bottom of your soul telling you to just give it to him.   

Beomgyu reassures you that he doesn’t mind. He wants to spend his money to make sure you're taken care of, but you still refuse. You stand your ground and hold onto the last shred of your life that is not his–for what? You don’t know–and he reluctantly lets it go, for now at least. 

Instead, he uses the time he does have with you to pamper you, feeding you breakfast in bed, getting you things to occupy your time while he's away, drawing baths for you when he gets home from work. It all feels so terribly familiar. The sense of deja vu choking you but Beomgyu is determined to mentally and physically push it all out of your mind and take its place instead. 

He only reads you happy poems and stories, only sings you cheerful love songs. You feel like he’s lulling you into a deep slumber. You're still where you've always been–your friends and family are still within reach, your old life is there to reclaim if you want to–but it's like he'd succeeded in putting a wall between you and the world just like he wanted, and it scares you that you can't tell if that is a good or bad thing. Maybe you should just give into him, fall into him and dissolve into his being until no one will ever be able to pull you apart again. 

You feel his fingers knead the skin of your shoulders as he sits behind you in the bathtub–once again using his free time after work to take care of you instead of giving himself a break after working hard all day. Bubbles and candles surround you, the calming scent of them permeating your brain like a drug, aided by the glass of wine in your hand, to lull you further into your slumber. You let out small hums of appreciation under Beomgyu's expert hands that seem to know you better than you know yourself. How does he know where exactly to touch to unwind a particular knot in your back or relieve a certain stress that has been nagging you for a while? All you have to do is sit there and sip your wine, letting the groggy feeling from the liquid combine with the blissful pleasure of Beomgyu's touch to submerge you deeper into a dreamy state that one day you may never wake up from. 

“There is this beach I was reading about online that I'd like to visit.” You tell him lazily and he chirps happily. He always gets so excited when you initiate any outings or dates to go on and it makes that familiar tender spot in your heart ache at how selfish you’re being. He tries so hard to make you happy and fill your life up with fun and exciting things to do to distract you from the loneliness, and yet you so rarely respond in kind. “Sure. Anything you want, my love.” 

You smile, hearing the relief in his voice, and you go on, a little more excitedly. “It's near that old medieval castle at the cliff top. It's very popular.” 

“Oh, that place.” His hands falter and you can feel a sudden strange chill in the air. “It's just an overrated touristy spot. I know plenty of other beaches that are better.”

You pout. You didn't expect his response. He is usually happy to do whatever you want and you had actually been looking forward to going to that particular beach for a while. “But I want to go there. The beach looks really nice and I thought I could even go explore that old abandoned castle with my prince.” You giggle, trying to crane your head back to send him a flirty look but the expression you find on his face wipes all hints of playfulness off yours.

“And I don't want to. Pick literally anywhere else.” His response is strangely irritated and you frown. You should probably drop it. He is right. There are plenty of nice beaches around. You don't have to go to that particular one. But something about his sharp refusal prompts you to dig more. Stupid girl. Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat? 

“Why do I need to when we can just go there?” You huff, tension creeping back into your shoulders. 

“I said no.” He rebuts with no explanation and your fiery temper sparks through the heavy fog that has been weighing on your brain. 

“Oh, you said no? Well then if Master says no then I guess that's the end of it.” You snap, your anger begging for you to let it catch fire.  

“Why are you being difficult? I thought you said you'd listen to me?” 

And just like it, he snuffs it all under his finger. You immediately shut down. How long is he going to hold that over your head? You've quit your job. You haven't spoken to Taehyun since then. You hardly see your friends. You stay home waiting for him like a dutiful little housewife. What more does he want from you? You know you've made a mistake. You know you promised to make it up to him and regain his trust, but surely asking to visit a stupid beach doesn't count as a potential breach of trust, does it? 

“Forget it.” You mumble, deflated. You were really looking forward to going there. The place looked super pretty online. It was one of the few places lately that have managed to get you excited at the prospect of visiting them. It held a certain vibrant draw to it when everything else seemed gray and dull in comparison. But you guess you can’t have even that.

You try to get out of the bath, no longer in the mood for intimate messages, but Beomgyu holds you back. Of course, he does. 

“Wait.” You hear Beomgyu sigh and let his hands drop to the water to circle around your waist and pull your body back against him, his lips kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder gently, apologetically. “I'm sorry, baby. I just have a bad feeling about that place. Can't you trust me on that?”

A bad feeling about the place? What the fuck does that mean? It’s just a beach, what could possibly go wrong there? 

Still, you hesitate. You didn’t think that anything could go wrong by being friends with Taehyun either and that Beomgyu was being overly jealous and paranoid but here you are. Maybe if you go there you'll fucking drown or something crazy like that.

You suppose you can give him that. You know if you had a bad feeling about a place, Beomgyu would not force you to go there. It probably wouldn’t be fun anyway if you make him go and he hates every second of it. You want to do something you both enjoy. 

But you really wanted to visit that place. Maybe you should go when he's at work… 

No. Just the idea of going out in public alone without Beomgyu makes you shudder. You can't handle being around people without Beomgyu's comforting presence to rely on. He's got you right where he wants you.

“Fine.” You say in a small voice, finally relenting. 

“Thank you, princess.” He sighs in relief and the tension in the air begins to dissipate once again. “I know you’re bored. I promise to take some time off work and take you on a nice vacation somewhere. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” You mumble unenthusiastically. 

“Come on. Cheer up.” He holds your jaw gently and turns you towards him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that slowly turns sensual. 

“Beomgyu…” You whine into his mouth, the water shifting as you rub your thighs together. He will never not have an effect on you. You’re too weak for him. 

“I know, princess.” His hand drops between your legs, loosening you up. “I got you.”

His light touches are as strong as electric currents coursing through your veins, and before long, you find yourself squirming in his hold, pushing yourself closer to his touch while paradoxically trying to get away from the intense feeling at the same time. 

But he doesn’t let you. He throws his other arm over you, caging you into place as he takes a hold of your breasts, kneading them until your nipples have pebbled in need. 

“Baby…” You keen, pushing your breasts further into his hand, and crying out as he pulls one of your perked nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Relax for me, baby.” He hums, holding you in place as he works his fingers inside you. It stings a bit as the water dilutes your arousal but he throws your legs on either edge of the tub to give him more space for his fingers to easily breach your hole, the heel of his palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge so scarily fast that you barely even register the sharp bite of his teeth on your neck as he zealously marks you. “Let me take care of you.” 

It’s a spell–a bid to get you to let go, and it’s so hard to not give in when he makes it feel so damn good. 

You're so exposed like this. Even though there is no one here to see you but Beomgyu, it feels like the whole universe is watching him spread you open to his satisfaction and no amount of faux demurity would fool the universe into believing you're not a willing participant in all of this. It's hard to care about your debauched display when your orgasm was heating you up from the inside so much you feel like you might spontaneously combust. Why is it always so intense with him? How does he do it so well? 

You may never know but what you do know is that your orgasm was rolling towards you like the water rolling over the edge of the tub, sharp and sudden, and when it reaches you it threatens to take you under. But Beomgyu holds your head above the water as his relentless fingers continue to fuck you until you yield to his will. You break apart under his touch, forgetting about everything except him in those few moments, forgetting about the beach, the castle, Taehyun and everything you've lost–the only thing registering in your mind is Beomgyu's touch, Beomgyu's smell, Beomgyu's warmth.  

“Beomgyu, Beomgyu, Beomgyu!” You cry as your whole body convulses in his arms, yet it doesn't slip from his hold for even a second, and when you finally come down from your quaking orgasm, you're still in his hold but half of the bath water had spilled over the edge, exposing your skin to the chilly room air–a stark contrast to the searing heat of Beomgyu’s hard cock pressing against you lower back as he tries to subtly jerk himself off against you, and it's your turn to hold him in the palm of your hand.

His quiet desperation brings even more memories to mind, memories of prince Beomgyu needily humping you in frantic attempt to get off, secret exclamations of desire and forbidden love whispered hotly on the skin of your neck or ears or breasts as he mounts you like a dog in heat in a way that he makes sure to tell you is not befitting the image of a prince like him. 

But when you turn around, it's your Beomgyu you see there, a regular college student on the surface, though nothing about him is regular. Is he really even your Beomgyu? The image of him in front of you shimmering and wavering between the Beomgyu you know and prince Beomgyu, and you're not sure which one is real anymore.

“You’re perfect.” He tries to reach out to you but you put his hands on either edge of the bathtub. “Keep those there.”

“Baby–” He starts to whine but shuts up when you grab his submerged cock and start jerking him off roughly. More water splashes out of the tub but neither of you care. He'll clean it up after anyway and you don’t even feel guilty about it. 

“Please, please.” He cries pathetically as if you're the one in control.

“Please what?” You ask curiously as if you're expecting him to suddenly reveal something that would make sense of the tangled mess you've made of him in your mind. 

“Anything.” 

You snort. “God, if someone is to see you like this they'd think I never touch you. You've been cumming every day, in my hand, my mouth, my ass, my cunt, on my face, my tits, my back…”

“It's not enough.” He shakes his head, looking delirious. “Never enough.”

“Well if it's not enough then what's the point of me doing this?” You taunt, going to pull your hand away from him but his own hands quickly fly out to grab yours and put it back on his cock as his whole body springs forward to get close to you as if he could glue his body to yours so you can't escape. “No! Please!”

“Get your hands off me.” You growl and he quickly puts his hands back on the tub's edge, trying to appease you so you wouldn’t deny him, but it’s not enough. He has to feel as helpless as he makes you feel and so you push him away roughly, his head almost hitting the ceramic as his back meets the wall of the tub. 

“You can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?” You purr, raising your free hand to his chest to play with his nipples, making his back arch and his fingers turn as white as the ceramic they're gripping onto while your other hand twists over his cock. 

“Sorry.”

God, you hate hearing that false word fall out of his mouth. You're pretty sure Beomgyu has never been sorry for anything in his life. 

“Are you?” You challenge, squeezing your hand around the head of his cock tightly. “Are you really sorry?” 

“Princess?” He cocks his head to the side innocently, as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. God, how he drives you crazy. “Please, I’ve been good.” 

Has he? You can’t tell anymore. He's poisoned your mind so much you can't think straight. 

You sigh, jerking him off fast, hard, knowing that the only thing that can soothe your troubled mind right now is watching your tormenter–your everything–fall apart in your grip just like he had done to you over and over again. And he doesn't disappoint. 

“Fuck! Oh, gods, I'm so close.” 

“Gods?” You laugh. That’s new. “I'm your only god, baby.”

“Yeah… only you.” He easily agrees with whatever you say, no thoughts behind his big adoring eyes, his body lying limp in the bathtub, only his hips moving to meet your fist everytime it goes down to smack against his pelvis. “Wanna cum for you. Worked so hard for it.”

“You did, didn't you?” You coo, one of your thumbs brushing against his hard nipples while the other teases the slit of his leaking cock. “Worked so hard to take care of me. Just need a little bit of attention in return, don't you?”

He nods eagerly, his lewd unabashed moans echoing all around the small bathroom as his high builds and builds, not daring to snap without your divine order. “Please, please…”

“Poor baby.” You tsk, looking at the man laid out before you and knowing in your heart of hearts that he was far from innocent. 

Rotten. That's the word that comes to mind when you look at him and you can't put your finger on why. But then why does he still look so beautiful to you? 

“Cum for me, love.”

“Yes! Thank you!” He cries out, his cum shooting out of his cock and immediately dispersing in the soapy water, tainting it like he's tainted you but you can’t get yourself to get away from it, the same way you can't get yourself to get away from him. You're rotten too now.  

“I love you so much.” He slurs as his body sinks into the water. 

“I know.” You do. It's the only thing you can be sure of anymore in the confusing mess that has become your life. That and “I love you too.”

___________________________

“Taehyun, what are you doing here? How did you get this address?” Your slow dreamy life comes into sudden disturbing focus when you see the one person you've been hiding from standing right outside your door. But your barrage of questions can't stop him from pushing past you into the apartment and back into your life. 

“I got your address from Yujin.” He explains once he's in and you look around in worry. He shouldn't be here. You'd barely managed to convince Beomgyu not to hurt him when he found out you had kissed him. What is he going to do if he finds him alone with you in the apartment while he's at work? You can't even let yourself think about it. It's too terrifying. You need to get him out. Why the fuck would Yunjun give him your address? Is she doing this to get back at Beomgyu? To get back at you? 

“Please leave. Beomgyu is going to lose his shit if he sees you.” You tell him as if that's not the understatement of the century. But Taehyun doesn’t appear to be phased. 

“I know. He is very dangerous. That's why I'm here.” He tells you, calmly acknowledging your statement that would have anyone else possibly running for the hills. “I have to tell you something. I think you were right. I think the dreams are memories.” 

You freeze in your spot, all thoughts of getting him out of here suddenly put on the backburner. What the hell is he saying? Has he gone crazy too?

You have secretly, shamefully, been harboring that rotten suspicion for a while now. The dreams just all felt too real to just be dreams. Nothing that vivid, that detailed, could just be the product of a slumbering mind, right? Besides, it didn't even stop at the dreams. You were having these “recollections” even while you're awake now, but you don’t dare believe them to be real memories because what would that mean for you? Best case scenario is that you've officially lost your mind and worst case scenario is that all of those dreams and images actually are real and Beomgyu really did all those awful things. You did all those awful things for him. 

“What makes you say that?” You gulp, asking cautiously. This feels like one of those moments that could forever change the trajectory of your life and maybe if you keep a cool safe distance away, you'd come out of this unscathed.

“I have been having more of them too. They have been plaguing my every sleeping moment, my every waking moment. They’re driving me insane–” He looks up at you and his expression almost knocks you off your feet. You know that look all too well. You see it in the mirror every day now. It’s the look of someone feeling themselves going mad and hoping that they really are because the alternative is just too cruel to consider–all the grief, all the blood, all the loss. No, it’s simply too much to bear, and you can hear the same torment you’re running from twisting his voice as he goes on. “Memories of us together… we were married in your dreams, right?”

His face is afflicted with an agony so raw it lashes against your skin in thick, bitter strokes that leave you gasping.  You never told him that. How did he know that? Okay, calm down. Breathe. This doesn't mean anything. He just had a lucky guess. Nothing more. 

“Yeah.” You admit slowly, watching him cautiously as if waiting for a further attack from him, and he doesn't disappoint. 

“You left me for him.” He says, an accusation in his voice that makes you falter. He is speaking to you as if he’s now fully convinced that the dreams are true, as if you really were married and you’d left him for Beomgyu. 

“No!” It feels strange defending something that a possibly fictional, possibly real version of you may have done because she's not you!--or is she? You didn’t leave him but you did. You don’t have to answer for her crimes but you feel compelled to try to anyway. “I thought I was saving you.”

But that just makes him angry, his fury so deep it couldn’t possibly have just been born today. It feels ancient, the edge of it sharpening over centuries. “Don't lie. That's not why you left.”

“It is. I swear. I just wanted to save you. I wanted to save everyone.” Your words sound insane even to your own ears but they're tumbling out of your mouth before you can even fully process them, again feeling compelled to defend yourself. You don’t even understand half of what you’re fighting about–your only aid in this battle are half-formed images of a fabled previous life you don’t want to remember.

“You’re lying to yourself.” He spits out bitterly, his visage taking on a hue that makes him look much older than he actually is–that makes him look like the Taehyun from your dreams, afflicted by loss and death and forced to grow up way too quickly. And here he is again, aging years in the blink of an eye. “You knew how crazy he was. You knew he wouldn't stop and you didn’t care. You just wanted to go back to him. You never fucking cared.”

“I didn't. I swear to god–” The way his conversation was heading brings a fresh wave of nauseating deja vu crashing onto you. You shake your head, trying to dispel whatever Folie a deux you both seem to have fallen victim to. You need to pull the plug on this insanity before you completely lose your mind. 

“Forget it. This is insane. Those memories aren't real. We're just working ourselves up into a frenzy. My brain has obviously sprung up all that shit out of my anxiety regarding me and Beomgyu's relationship, and after I told you about them, you started dreaming them up too.” You narrow your eyes at him as you attempt to rationalize your way through this mess, “Or you're taking advantage of my obvious mental instability to convince me to ditch my boyfriend to be with you.”

That must be it. It's the only explanation that makes sense and you try to hold onto it like a woman drowning, but Taehyun refuses to let you. 

“For fuck's sake, woman, wake up!” He grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you as if he could forcefully shake off the walls of denial you’ve been trying to build around yourself. “It's me. We've been reincarnated again for some sick reason and we're forced to relive everything we've done again, just in a different setting. Maybe it's a punishment. Maybe it's a test to see if we would choose differently. Choose right.”

“And the right choice is you?” You ask and he scoffs, looking affronted by the mere idea of there being a question about it. “It clearly isn't him. After all he's done to you. He imprisoned you. He raped you… He killed you.”

He looks as if he doesn't fully realize what he'd said until he’d said it, as if the returning memory was compelling his tongue to speak before it's been fully realized in his brain, and as the memory passes through him to you, you suddenly feel a sharp, piercing pain in your abdomen. It only lasts for a second but it draws the breath right out of you. For that second it feels like your soul is being carried away on that breath and you panic at the terrifyingly all too familiar sensation of dying. No. No. No.

But just as suddenly as that breath was exhaled, it was shoved back into your chest when Taehyun covers the phantom wound with his hand. Your own hands quickly clasp around his, and your eyes widen in a gruesome realization. 

“He killed our baby.” You whisper, your face suddenly wet with tears you didn't realize were there. Oh god. You're the dead ex-girlfriend, aren't you? There was never anyone else. It was always you.

“He did. He wasn’t going to let anyone have you if he couldn’t. Even your own child.” Taehyun says, allowing a painful melancholy back into his voice. “So he stole you from the world.” 

You and Taehyun slowly and fearfully piece together this traumatic past life you seemed to share, some details you had already recalled before while others were triggered by Taehyun’s own mad recollections. It's not a perfect story. There are many gaps in it but the main frame is enough. 

You were a Lady at Prince Beomgyu's royal palace. You loved each other but couldn't be together because he was betrothed to someone else, couldn't even tell eachother. But Beomgyu was secretly plotting to keep you bound to him, and it was working until Taehyun came into the picture and you developed an interest in each other. Beomgyu didn’t like that and he went crazy and… he hurt you. That pushed you to finally escape from him and marry Taehyun but your marriage wasn't perfect and Beomgyu took advantage of that. He threatened the lives of thousands, including Taehyun, if you didn’t go back to him. Taehyun told you not to but you did. You thought you'd be saving him and everyone else but you had just stupidly walked into Beomgyu's trap. He never intended to let Taehyun live. And when you finally realized your mistake, when you saw Taehyun's life on the line, you acted in a moment's frenzy to save him, plunging your knife right into Beomgyu's heart and ultimately succumbing to a fatal wound he dealt to you in response with a kiss and a promise that he'd find you again.

And he did. Gods help you, he did. 

It's a horrific story, disgusting, cruel, and you don’t want to believe it. It can't be. 

“We have to go. We have to leave before he comes back.” Taehyun pulls on your arm but you hesitate, automatically digging your heels on the ground and not letting him move you. He stares at you in shock. “You can't be serious? You're choosing him again after everything?”

You shake your head, panicking. “No, Taehyun–”

You want to tell him that you haven't chosen anything. You just don't know enough to make a decision. You still don't know if any of this is actually real or if you're both just mad. Even if your brain tells you it is, your heart tells you that it can't be true. This is ridiculous. Beomgyu loves you. He would never do this to you. And who is to say that he even knows any of this himself? What if he's just like you and Taehyun were at first, only feeling an inexplicable sense of love for you and hatred towards Taehyun that he doesn’t even understand the source of? Is that why he had been acting so irrational and scared to lose you? Because he has all these emotions he can't explain? 

And what about Taehyun? Yes, you had something maybe in a past life but does any of that translate into right now? Can you abandon Beomgyu and the real love you have for each other in order to build a relationship based just on memories of a previous life that ended tragically for all of you? Did that past Taehyun even love you?

You want to explain all of that to him but you don't even get the chance to before you're interrupted by the sound of keys turning in the front door's lock. 

Your eyes widen and fear grips your heart. Despite what you tell yourself about none of this being real, you suddenly fear for Taehyun's life. 

“Hide. Please, hide.” You try to tell him but he's not listening to you. He has no intention of hiding and you can see that when he grabs your hand and pulls you behind him roughly. 

When Beomgyu steps into the house and sees you, all doubt in your heart about the memories being false dash out of the room with the first word out of his mouth. 

“Again?” He asks coldly, viciously. “I knew from the moment you met him that this would happen. Even centuries later you can’t fucking help but act like a slut when he's around, huh?”

“You knew.” You croak, throat closing up to try to prevent that breath from escaping once again, fear shaking you to your core. “You always knew.”

You were too kind. Too stupid. He wasn't acting crazy because he loves you so much and was afraid of losing you. He wasn't acting crazy because he didn't understand his own feelings. He was acting crazy because he's done this before and he’ll be damned if he lets you ruin it again. 

"Of course I did. I have to find you every time.” 

“Every time?” The shaking spreads to your heart, weakening it, throwing off its rhythm. Your poor, naive heart that doesn’t know what to do with itself when the one person it loved and trusted in the world has been lying to it this whole time. “This happened more than once before?”

He laughs cruelly. “This, something else, the details differ but it's always us. Me and you.” He turns to Taehyun with rage that could hardly be contained in the small room. “Not him. I haven't seen him since that first time. The gods really wanted to piss me off this time.”

“Or maybe they wanted her to finally break free from you.” Taehyun's grip tightens around you–to hold you back or to protect you, you don’t know–something that Beomgyu doesn’t fail to notice, his upper lip curling in a snarl, clearly displeased that Taehyun even dares to touch you. But before he can act out on his rage, you speak up. 

“So what? We just keep getting reincarnated and reliving this misery over and over again?” You’re surprised he hears you when you can hardly hear yourself. 

“You do. Not me. I was only reincarnated once, right after we died. I spent many lifetimes in your tomb, mourning you. I thought that was what I was brought back for and I would've stayed there forever but I was drawn out by the gods who wanted me to realize they’ve sent you back again and again for me to find you. It's amusing to them, to see me suffer and lose you.” 

He knew from the beginning. He knew lifetimes ago and he lied to you from the start, made you feel crazy for having these dreams, tried to gaslight you into believing it was all in your head all while working to put distance between you and everyone else so he can have you all to himself. How long was he going to keep up the facade for? Is this what he did every time or does he always come up with new cruel and unusual ways to break you just like he did that very first time? 

“Why?” You ask lowly and he stares at you in confusion, not understanding the question so you gather up your strength and speak louder, more clearly. You need to finally get answers. “Does it ever work?” 

“Sometimes it does. For a little while anyway, before the gods decide we've had it good for too long and tear us apart again.” He scowls, blasphemously enraged at those mythically evil gods. “At first I thought they were giving us second chances but they're just laughing at us, watching us get together before ripping us apart like a child ripping the wings off a fly.”

“Then why let them? Why keep doing it?” You ask again and Beomgyu directs his anger at you. 

"Would you have been able to have all those memories of us, not just of our first life but every single one after, all these fragments of our infinity together and just ignore it and move on, just pretend like you don't know the other half of your soul is out there waiting for you to complete them?"

You shake your head. No. You've fallen for it before you'd even regained your memories. You can't imagine how brutal it is on him. God, to imagine him scouring the earth looking for you only to lose you again and again in horrific ways… it made your soul ache for him despite everything. 

"I have to keep trying. We were so close this time. We were fucking happy. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for us but you had to ruin it. You had to let him in.” He growls at Taehyun who was unimpressed with his entire confession. 

“If my mere existence was enough to ruin your happiness then maybe it wasn't real from the start.” He challenges, not letting you go for a second. He'd learned his lesson. His hold on you hurts, turns your hand cold and blue but you dare not protest. “You've lied to her, manipulated her and blinded her until she bowed to your twisted will and even then she was still struggling against you every step of the way. If you really loved her, you would let her go. I bet she was the most happy during those lifetimes when you were under the ground in her tomb where you belong. You killed her. You deserve to mourn her for eternity. You don't deserve to get a second chance with her.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I know she wants to be with me, which is more than I could say about you.” Beomgyu’s face twists in a sadistic grin. “Despite everything, she still can’t live without me. You know, because you've tried to make her. She never loved you and it kills you to know it.” 

That works. Taehyun lets go of your hand and lunges at him. Beomgyu is on the ground before the scream leaves your tense throat. He didn’t stand a chance. You’ve seen Taehyun fight before, and Beomgyu–immortal being that he is–still is not able to weather the flurry of punches Taehyun’s trained fists are raining down at him. 

Taehyun pummels him to the ground right in front of your eyes and you can’t bear to see it. Yes, Beomgyu has hurt you. Yes, he has been lying to you and manipulating you all this time. Yes, he's done unthinkable things for you, to you, but you still can't just stand there and watch him get hurt. You're sick of all the pain. You want it to be different this time. Maybe that's the way to break free of this curse. 

You try to tear them apart but Taehyun is like an unstoppable force that has been dying to be unleashed. You cry and pull and plead but he doesn’t stop, slowly reducing the love of your life into a bloody, gory crime scene before your very eyes and you don't know what to do to stop him. 

It’s only when you see the glint of a knife as he pulls it out of his pocket that you’re able to finally do something to stop the carnage, and you throw yourself over Beomgyu in order to protect him. 

“Please!” You cry out, inconsolable. “Please, stop hurting him.”

Please, don’t take him from me again. You hear her sob from deep inside your soul, getting louder and louder by the second as she struggles to finally break through the rusty door of memory and time. 

“He has to die.” Taehyun growls, looking crazed. “He won't stop until he’s dead.”

No. No more death. That can’t be how it ends again. 

“I can't let you hurt him.” You sob, shielding Beomgyu with your life. You don’t know if this Taehyun would kill you–You don’t know if past Taehyun would’ve killed you–but you can’t let him do this. 

“I knew you would choose me, princess.” You hear Beomgyu’s muffled voice from beneath you and look down to see a demented, bloody grin on his face before you and Taehyun are thrown off him. 

He does it so easily, leaving you to gape at him in shock. If he could’ve done this from the start then why did he let Taehyun beat him up? 

You watch in horror as the tables quickly turn and in the blink of an eye it’s Taehyun that is on the floor and Beomgyu is on top of him with his hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. No matter how hard Taehyun tries to push him off, he does not budge. 

You try too. Beomgyu was never heavy, even you are usually able to throw him around if you really wanted to, but now he is like a rock that can’t be moved. You rip at his clothes and nothing. You claw at his skin and nothing. Nothing happens except the slow snuffing of Taehyun’s breath under him. 

“No. Why are you doing this?” You wail, tears burning on your cheeks. “Just stop. Please. I can’t lose either of you again.” 

But you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that would only make Beomgyu angrier. "This is why he has to die. We were happy before he came along and we’ll be happy again once he’s gone.” 

You can see Taehyun’s face turn blue as he struggles and fails to push Beomgyu off him, the only sound coming from him are his thrashing limbs, no air able to escape from under Beomgyu’s death grip. 

The view is enough to suffocate even you and you quickly say everything you could think of that might persuade Beomgyu to spare Taehyun, even if spelt your own doom. “Don't hurt him. I'll go with you. I swear I will go with you and I won't try to fight you ever again. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll be all yours.” 

“Your promises mean nothing to me when you’ve broken them so easily before. It doesn’t matter. You’re mine anyway.” He answers, unimpressed and you shake your head. “I will fight you every day if you hurt him. I will never forgive you. You may have me physically but my heart won’t be yours anymore. You’ve fucked up so much Beomgyu. You owe me this.” 

He grunts, his hands tightening around Taehyun’s throat for a second–the poor man’s face almost turning purple now–before he loosens his grip enough to allow a thin, raspy breath of air into Taehyun’s lungs. 

“What does it matter anyway? He'll be reborn again. Away from us.” He spits out angrily, his fingers twitching–dying to resume their vice grip on Taehyun’s throat but thankfully holding back.  

"It matters to me. If you want me to let you have me, you’ll spare him.” 

To your surprise, it is not Beomgyu but Taehyun who speaks up, his voice so uncharacteristically weak coming out of his almost crushed windpipe. “Let him kill me. Maybe then I'll be rid of you.”

The coldness in his voice freezes the air in your lungs, forming jagged icicles that tear you apart from the inside. 

“You've made a fool of me too many times before. I will not live out another life as a fool. Free me of you.”

You hold back your tears. “Taehyun…” 

“You'll never escape from him because you deserve him.” 

Beomgyu looks torn between his fury at Taehyun’s vicious attack on you, and his relief that he’s ruining whatever goodwill you’d built up behind his back, but he seems to settle on the latter, a slow unkind smile warping his lips. 

“See what he is? He was never the better option. He would never love you like I do, unconditionally and forever. Let me kill him. It will do us all good.” His voice turns fearsome on that last appeal and you struggle to remain unshaken in the face of it. Yes, you deserve this. If all the little and big pieces of your past life that have come back to you are real then you deserve to live in a world bound to the monster you nurtured and hated by the one man who tried to break you free from him. 

“Let him live.” You insist, fighting both men for Taehyun’s life now. “Let him live or I’ll make sure that all that you’ve worked for this time will have been for naught. You may as well kill me after him because you’ll never be able to have me in this lifetime again.” 

Beomgyu bares his teeth at you like a feral dog, unhappy about your demands of mercy for the sake of the man who in his eyes was the reason he lost you–and by the sounds of it is intent on doing it again.

“If you keep me alive I will hunt you both down until I kill you.” He warns and Beomgyu looks at you in a silent plea, like a child begging to pour salt on a slug, but you shake your head at him. 

Do you not care about his threat? Of course you do. Do you not believe him? Of course you do. But just like before, you've got no one to blame but yourself and Beomgyu–Beomgyu because he forces the strings of fate to weave to his will and bring you together no matter how ugly and knotted it ends up making your lives, and you for always stringing along innocent people into it, tying them up into a mess that isn’t their own. 

“Come on, Beomgyu.” You put your hand out to him. “Let’s go.” 

You see the vitriol in his eyes soften at the extended hand. You know he wants to take it. He wants nothing more than to take your hand and disappear forever with you–Taehyun is an afterthought to him, this entire life just a distraction in the grand scheme of things–and so he does. He reaches out to take your hand, but not before he grabs Taehyun’s head, smacking it against the hard ground and knocking him out. 

You gasp at the violent action, withdrawing your hand in shock but Beomgyu doesn’t let you, reaching out to clasp it tightly in his own hand, reminding you that once you give him something, you can never have it back. “Beomgyu!”

He rolls his eyes, standing up and pulling you flush against his body. “He’ll live. Might take some time to recover, or better yet he’ll be dumber for it, but he’ll live just like you wanted. Now forget about him and just focus on me.” He grabs your chin and turns your gaze away from the unconscious Taehyun and towards his own face. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain now princess or you'll pay with his life.” 

Of course. Even this small act of kindness couldn't be selfless. He only did it in order to ensure your good behavior. As long as you live, you’ll have to appease Beomgyu's demented whims or Taehyun’s life will be on the line. A deal with the devil.

Your lips tremble and you ask yourself. Is this really what you deserve after all? Were the sins of your past life so offensive to the gods that the only way to pay for them is through eternal damnation with your monster? Was there no hope of salvation for you? And would you have taken it if there was? 

“Where are you taking me?” You ask in a shaky voice as he pulls you after him and away from the flat, leaving every part of this temporary life behind. 

"Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

__________________________________

The journey to this place in the middle of nowhere lasts longer than you could’ve imagined, longer than you could stay awake, that it feels like he was really taking you somewhere at the edge of the universe where no one can reach you ever again. You doze off as the adrenaline that had kept you going until now leaves your body, and Beomgyu is more than happy to let you rest in the backseat of his car as he takes you through dark remote areas you wouldn’t have been able to keep track of even if you were awake. 

When you finally reach your destination and groggily step out of the car with his help, you almost think you’re still dreaming, because in front of you is a massive mansion you’ve never seen or heard off before. All the way around was nothing but empty woods, the imposing and impressive structure seemingly completely cut off from the rest of the world. 

You look at Beomgyu in shock, the sleep flying off your eyes at the unexpected sight. 

Beomgyu grins–or at least attempts to through the swelling of his lips, his bloody teeth barely visible underneath. Oh, your poor beautiful boy. He looks like a mess. “Do you like it, princess?” 

“H-How?” You ask cluelessly as he pulls you towards the entrance. “Being immortal has its perks. I knew I needed to make myself a small fortune to show off whenever you were ready to come back to me.” 

You’re in for a bigger shock when you finally step inside the mansion, because everyone and everything here–all the decorations, furniture, servants and household staff gathered around to greet you–are all styled in a way you only recognize from your dreams. The entire mansion looks as if Beomgyu had plucked it straight out of your first life. 

And yes, there are people there. You had been fully expecting this grand building to be running on magic or something ridiculous like that. After all, if immortality and vengeful gods are real, what makes the thought that stupid? But no, there are people here and you honestly can’t tell if they belong to this era or if Beomgyu somehow stole them from your previous life. 

“Welcome home, my lady.” A woman who you presume to be the head of the household staff bows towards you. You just stare at her, mouth agape. She didn’t look like she was wearing a costume or putting on an act. She looked exactly how you remember the staff at the old palace looked like.  

And what did she say? Home? Is this really home? It looked like it–definitely smaller than Beomgyu’s old palace despite how big and opulent it is by modern standards– but you’re scared by how your guards are already going down by the familiar sight. 

Beomgyu nudges you as the woman straightens back up and stares at you in expectation. 

“Uh, yes, thank you.” You chew on your lip and Beomgyu chuckles lightly. “You’ll have to forgive my princess. This is all a bit of a shock for her. I am sure once she goes back to her old self, she’ll be much more mannerly.” 

“Ah, yes, of course. Silly me.” The woman laughed graciously in turn, “The poor dear must be exhausted from all that travel. I know we have all been waiting for her to finally arrive but I suppose our welcome party will have to wait for the morning when she’s properly rested.”

They have been waiting? They knew you were coming. Beomgyu was always going to win, wasn't he? It was just a matter of time. He always does.

“That’s right. She can hardly stay upright from the fatigue.” He pulls you towards him, and you realize belatedly that he’s holding you up by the waist. “Pray tell me that our bath is ready.”

“Of course, my prince. And a fresh change of clothes too.” She chirps happily, proud of her immaculate service. “It’s all waiting for you upstairs.” 

“Wonderful.” Beomgyu turns towards you and smiles, “Let's head to our chambers, love, shall we?”

Your spacious bedroom has an almost equally large ensuite attached to it where some servants were still fussing about, putting extra oils and salts into your bath to make it gentler and more calming, before Beomgyu dismisses them and goes about his familiar habit of bathing both you and himself. You barely register any of it, too preoccupied by the overstated luxury of the place around you to pay much attention to him undressing you and pulling you into the large tub–the water a perfect temperature, the smell heavenly, his touch both gentle and purposeful as he attempts to cleanse you of your previous life. 

You feel both out of place and right at home, the two very different sides of you pushing and pulling as you look around the room. The way this bathroom is decorated and even the products he’s using look and feel more expensive than your entire life had been so far, and Beomgyu appears well aware of that fact and quite pleased with it too–happy that he could finally show off what he’s been dying to for so long. You always had a feeling he wanted to shower you in the finer things and you never understood or accepted it because you thought he was just another broke college student making stupid rash decisions in order to impress his love, but now you get it. 

He makes sure to explain to you the source of everything he’s using and the rare ingredients that go into it, trying to appeal to that old part of you that had apparently yearned for spoils and riches. Of course these weren’t just simple shower products that normal plebs use. These were made specifically for you, just waiting for your arrival. He points out every aspect of the bathroom and the room attached to it that seems to be catching your eye at the moment and tells you how he chose them and where he got them from–how he chose the golden and brown accents because they’re reminiscent of the sunflowers you so adore–how he had the ceiling decorated in shining stars to resemble the stars you would see when you laid in each other’s arms in the palace gardens. It was all so meticulously planned and decorated just for you. 

Is it really for you though? It may have been for a past you but are you still her? Can this extravagance be for you when you never even realized that anyone would ever care to spend so much money on a place that everyone else uses only to get rid of their waste or wash off the dirt and grime off their bodies? 

But as Beomgyu continues to flaunt it all to you, you realize that even a room as ordinary as a bathroom is another space where the rich and powerful can show off their wealth. It’s a room where they go to shed the filth of the outside world away and relish in their highly curated luxury and beauty just as Beomgyu is doing right now–diligently scrubbing that real world off you and washing it down the drain until this fantasy mansion looks like it could be where you belong. 

If just the bathroom was hard for you to wrap your head around, you can’t even begin to describe how lavish the connected bedroom is, but one thing that catches your eye amidst the exuberance of it all is the portrait in the middle of the wall facing you. It’s a portrait of you and Beomgyu, or rather prince Beomgyu and the person you were back then. He is standing behind you in all his royal garb and you’re in front of him dressed in the finest silks and jewelry money can buy, shining like his most prized possession as one of his hands rests on your shoulder and another is seen wrapped around your waist possessively.  

“Do you like it, princess?” He asks after he dries you off with the softest towel you’ve ever felt on your skin, his hands almost mirroring the portrait as his slightly bloody lips follow the curve of your neck, not caring if he leaves small crimson streaks on your skin. “Does the place suit your taste?” 

“It’s…” You utter slowly, eyes jumping around the room as Beomgyu stares at you with hopeful anticipation, waiting for the realization of all his effort, but as you say your next words, his expression falls. “It’s a lot.” 

“A lot?” He scoffs, offended. “The you I know would never say such a word.” 

You gulp. “Well maybe that person isn’t here anymore.” 

Why would you say that? Why would you purposefully upset him when he’s shown you time and time again what he’s capable of? It’s a lie of course. She has always been there deep inside, slumbering but not dead, just waiting for him to come back and awaken her. 

“Not there anymore?” He growls, pushing you onto the impossibly soft bed and climbing over you, not as gentle as he had been so far. “Bullshit. You just need a little reminding.”

He kisses you roughly, angrily, with the weight of centuries of longing that had turned sharp and tender. You can’t help but respond back. Despite your words, she claws her way out of the abyss at his beckoning. 

“Why do you always have to make me work for it?” He growls, nipping at your neck while his fingers find their way between your legs, the easy practiced way he can get you dripping no longer such a mystery to you. He has honed it over lifetimes. “Why do you love torturing me?” 

You? Torturing him? He has controlled you in this life and the first one and probably all others in between. He has manipulated and hurt you in countless ways and yet you’re the one hurting him? 

“Because you deserve it.” You breathe out mournfully, “We deserve it.” 

His swollen lips curl in distaste. “I don’t care. As long as I got you, I don't give a shit about anything else. Let me be damned for all of eternity as long as you're mine.” He kisses you again, the metallic bitter taste of blood combined with his natural sweetness so fitting for him, your corrupted angel. “Always mine.” 

He pushes his fingers inside you and your pussy takes him easily, knowing who it belongs to before even you did. 

The way he has you on your back with your legs open and your feet in the air is a scene you’re sure has recurred over and over again across your centuries with him, repeatedly laying his claim to your pliant body until you can no longer rebuke him, your body knowing what to expect now even if your mind still struggles to catch up. 

You feel Beomgyu pull on your hand to wrap it around his cock, the silent order from him not needing to be said out loud for your body to start acting, your grip on him turning firm as your hand moves in that practiced way over his cock that has his jaw hanging open and his back arching into your touch, his eyes hungrily feasting on the sight of you splayed open and ready for the taking.  But he waits, letting both your desires build up to an unbearable heat. 

“Fuck, Beomgyu… just do it already.” You hiss, sick of the wait. He knows you're his. You've always been and always will be so he should just get it over with. But of course Beomgyu can't let it be that simple. He has to force you to say it. He has to rub your face in it so you won't dare disobey or deny him again. 

“Is my princess in there?” He cocks his head to the side, his thumb flicking your swollen clit, making you bite down on your lip. You can’t bear the way he looks at you. It makes your skin burn. 

“Yes.” A few hot tears fall down the sides of your face. Why bother fighting it anymore? He has won. 

“Does she want me?” He continues, pulling his fingers out and making you whimper at the emptiness as he takes your hand off him so he can replace his fingers at your entrance with the head of his cock, hot and thick, taunting you with what he could give you if you bend to his will. “Do you want me?”

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you and looking right into your core, forcing you to face him as you give in. 

You let out a pathetic cry. “Yes. I want you. I will always want you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes inside you, letting out a heavy sigh of relief, like coming home after being lost for so long. “I missed you so much. I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He did. This entire mansion is a testament to it. And so you lie there on your back and take it, getting fucked open by Beomgyu, his beat up face not taking away from his beauty. If anything, his bruised and bloody visage contrasts with the backdrop of the elaborate and extravagant ceiling above him and serves to drive home the lengths he’s willing to go–the ugliness and horror he’s willing to let come pass so he can have you, so he can steal you away and keep you as a good, pliant fucktoy for the prince who had always been greedy for more than his fair share. 

“Maybe I should thank the fool for getting you back to me.” He murmurs, making your eyes jump from the glittering chandelier above him to his sparkling eyes that cannot be dimmed even by the blackness around them, that have only been put off once by death itself before he revolted against it and came back for you. “Getting you to remember us.” 

You frown. You know what he means. You were together before Taehyun came into the picture but not fully, not the way he wanted you to be. But now he's slowly getting back the you he's always been chasing, the you he may have only reunited with a few times over centuries. You understand that. Still that doesn't mean he can disparage Taehyun, and it doesn’t mean that you want to be reminded of him. 

“Don't speak of him.” You don't want to hear it. You're here, aren't you? He won and you’re here. He should just let you forget what that has meant for you. 

He smiles, more than happy to not speak another word of Taehyun ever again, and rewards you by bending down to kiss you as he fucks his cock ruthlessly in and out of you, fully devoted to helping you forget. 

“Fuck, I really missed you.” He groans against your lips before pulling back so he can feast his eyes on you. “Now that I have you back I don't think I can give you a break until I show you just how much I missed you. Gotta make up for all our lost time.” He drills his cock faster and harder into you, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh ringing around the room so loudly you're worried that all other occupants of the house can also hear it. “Not gonna rest until all your holes are filled to the brim with my cum and you remember just how much I love you.” 

“Gyu…” You whine at his loud promises, fearing the rest of the household is hearing his filth. “Keep it down.”

He laughs, fucking you harder. “Why should I? Everyone here knows who you belong to. They know their master will be fucking his princess every night. Every day. They may as well get used to it now because I don’t intend on hiding any of it.”

“What?” Your cheeks flush bright, surely he is not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting. 

“This isn't our old palace, princess. I don't have to hide what is mine anymore and I expect you not to either. And if that means they can hear or even see me claiming what is mine then so be it. It’s what I always wished I could do anyway.” 

Yes, you know that very well–images of Prince Beomgyu’s attempts at inappropriate touches in public flitting through your brain. You shake your head, whining. “Not hiding, just common decency…” 

“Fuck that. Gonna show the whole universe who this pussy belongs to.” He growls, and you feel one of his hands move between your bodies to reach your pussy, his fingers easily rubbing your soaked lips and making your thighs tense up. 

“Beomgyu!” You cry at the sudden spike in pleasure, your pussy clenching around him when you get no escape from it, his hips incessantly thrusting against yours and barreling you towards what you know will be a blinding orgasm. “It’s too much.” 

He shakes his head, fingers going faster. “Not enough. Never enough. Now cum for me, princess. Make a mess on my cock.” 

As if you could have stopped it even if you wanted to. Your orgasm causes your whole body to seize up–your thighs crash around his thin waist, your pussy spasming on his twitching cock, your nails digging down into the flesh of his back as you throw your head back and cry out loudly, the irony of you asking for decency not lost on your grinning lover. 

“That’s it. Good girl. Now take it. Take all of me.” He grunts, spending himself inside you, the first of the many times he promised you he would. The first of your lifetime together. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

In the heat of it all, it takes you a second to respond, a second too long for Beomgyu’s liking, and he grabs your face and makes you lock eyes with him. “I love you.” He repeats, continuing to fuck his cum into you as he waits for your response. 

“I-I love you too.” You gasp out, your nails digging even deeper into his skin, begging him to give you a break, the overstimulation ruthlessly gripping your own flesh. “I love you. Please.” 

He finally slows down. It takes him a minute to completely stop, and you can see that he didn’t really want to but he does iit for you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, doubt and insecurity plaguing his swollen features, silently asking you to put his troubled soul at ease. He may be a cruel and calculating being sent back to punish you for your sins, but underneath it all he’s still your lovesick boy, your prince whose soul yearns for yours, and it would be the cruelest thing of all to deny him that one thing that keeps him from perishing.  

You nod, reaching out weakly to play with his hair, your muscles cut down by fatigue then completely turned to mush by pleasure. “Yes, I did. I missed you even when I didn’t know who I was missing.” 

He smiles gently at that, letting out a small breath of relief that conveys all his vulnerability before bending down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. “I’m right here. I promise to keep reminding you..” 

You don’t know if he’s promising this to himself or to you, but it leads your mind to troubling questions. 

“Are they going to let us stay together?” You frown, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of those cruel gods he’d spoken of. Now that you have him–now that you know exactly what you’ve been missing, it petrifies you to have him ripped away from you again so soon. If you must be damned to be with him, then let you be with him, damn it!

“For this lifetime, maybe.” He answers hoarsely, uncertainly. “Every time you choose me, we're doomed further. They're just letting us rack up the debt.” 

“Choose? Do I ever have a choice?” Your question is innocent, your mind too scrambled to come up with an intentional attack, yet Beomgyu still perceives it as such. 

“Of course you do. You always do. If you reject me enough times, you condemn me to a hell like no other, to being cut away from you forever.” He answers defensively, needing you to know that you’re not blameless in any of this, and you know you’re not because your heart spasms painfully at the thought of being forever severed from him the same way an artery spasms around itself to keep from bleeding out. “If I force you then it's the same. You have to choose me yourself. That's the only way we can be together.”

A sick feeling of realization hits you. You suddenly get it–why he let himself get beat up by Taehyun. He had to wait for you to choose him. If he had just killed Taehyun and took you away, it would’ve tallied up against him. He had to let you doom yourself. Even if all you’ve done to earn damnation is to hesitate when Taehyun asked you to run away. Even if you did it to save Taehyun, it didn’t matter. You choosing him will always be your sin.

He's right. These gods really are wicked and unjust.  

“Do I choose you every time?” You ask in a small, shaky voice and he frowns, your question prompting what must be disturbing memories to spring to his mind. “Not always but most of the time.”

“What happens when I don't? Do you let me?” You hold your breath, anticipating his response. Does he let you be? Does he force you? Does he hurt you? Is every time you choose him similar to this time and your first life? Could you be pardoned by pleading that you’ve been forced into it or is the sheer amount of times you chose him enough to prove your wickedness beyond a shadow of doubt?

“Why are you asking about that now? You chose me in this lifetime. The rest doesn’t matter.” He brushes you off, goosebumps prickling your skin at his diversion. In his nonanswer lies the truth. No, he doesn’t let you. He doesn’t accept defeat. He never did and never will. 

“Doesn’t that bother you, what they’re doing to us? Forcing us into this cycle over and over again?” You push tentatively. “Don't you want to be free?” 

If you stop choosing each other, will you break this infernal cycle? 

“From you? Never.” He tells you with all the certainty and conviction a man can hold, forehead pressed against yours, your breaths intermingling as if your souls are greeting each other. “Darling, if they give me the choice between heaven and you, I would choose you every time. My existence is meaningless without you, salvation is nothing to me if I can't be with you. I would go through this hell again and again just to spend these precious few moments with you. Let me suffer alone for lifetimes if it means I get even one day like this to feel your love once more.”

Your heart swells, different emotions warring inside of it–eternal love for him, happiness that he is so devoted to you that even death can’t keep you apart, anger that he won’t grant you salvation, hate for everything he’s put you through, horror that you will never escape, soul deep fatigue at the weight of it all–but you can’t even begin to untangle them from each other because he doesn’t let you. This is your reunion and he won’t let it be ruined by your doubts. 

Instead, he flips you over, pushing you onto your tummy and pulling your ass up, the sound of him jerking his drenched cock to hardness the only thing you can hear over the ringing in your ears before you feel it breaching your pussy to fill you up again. He lays himself over you, his hips immediately go to work fucking you, making use of every moment he has stolen with you. 

“Gyu…” You whine, mind too fried to care much about the way you’re drooling over the expensive sheets. “Too fast.” 

“I’m sorry, princess. Just wanna make up for all the lost time. I promise I’ll be gentler later, will take care of you so well.” He babbles, the strain of the pleasure he’s getting from your tight walls evident in his voice. “Promise. Just be good for me tonight. Okay?”

You get it–his desperation, his insatiability. This is one of the only few times in his long, lonely existence when he gets to be with you and have you fully in this way–his princess brought back from the unfathomable and untraversable void of death and lost memories for him. And you can’t find it in you to deprive him of you right now. You’ll think about it later. You’ll worry about what this means for your soul’s eternal damnation tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll let him have you. You’ll let your rotten souls rejoice in the company of their other half. 

“Okay.” You mumble dumbly, letting him take you like a bitch as tears of overstimulation line your lashes and your fingers clutch tightly onto the sheets. You can’t even pretend that it doesn’t feel good, every thrust of his hips, every touch of his hands, every filthy word he says, every load he release inside you–it all shifts and molds you into the wretched lover he’s been searching for, the walls you’ve built up to contain her getting torn down with every position he takes you in until you lay limp with no fight left in you and it’s revealed that there is no one behind those walls. There never was. She was always you. 

When he’s finally has his fill, and you’re more dirty and ruined than you ever were before the bath, he lays down next to you and takes you in his arms–his tight embrace suffocating and hot after what he just put your body through but he doesn’t care. You don’t care. You’re with each other, and that’s how your story always ends and begins. You've been here many times before and you'll be here for many more to come. 

You are at the edge of sleep, almost falling over, when you hear a small sniffle and feel him shake ever so slightly under you. You look up to see his teary eyes and you lift your hand to his face to brush those very costly droplets away. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“I'm just so happy. I missed you so much.” He whimpers, his hold on your getting even tighter. “I love you.”

You know. You couldn’t have understood it so fully before but now that you know a fraction of what he went through to get here, you know that his love is not a mere mortal love. It has defied fate itself and it will live on for eons to come. As long as you're on this earth, he'll stay here to find you, and when you leave, he'll follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell or the unfathomable unknown. As long as you're together, his wretched and weary soul can find its peace. 

“I missed you too. And I love you.” 

And I'm sorry it has come to this. I'm sorry I let our once precious love grow so gruesome and hideous that this twisted ending is our only version of happiness. 

_______________________________

A/N: aaaand that's the end of this portion of the story. let me know what you think of this ending. less death than usual lol.

would you rather get tyun's ending (mostly tyun focused) or continue the story from where this chapter leaves off (mostly gyu focused)? Or would you rather a new unrelated story entirely?

Here are some teasers for the two ideas

Tyun's ending:

“Where do we go from here?” You ask defeatedly and he narrows his eyes at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re clearly angry at me. You don't trust me.” 

“Yeah, and?”

You frown too. How can he not see where the problem lies? “How are we going to stay together like this?”

“Are you thinking of leaving again?” Now he starts getting angry, vindictive, the wrath of the warlord in him cutting through the centuries. 

“No–”

“Because I won't let you. All your bullshit excuses are gone. there is no war. You can't pretend you're going back for the greater good.” His voice is mocking on the last part, and you feel your face heat up.

“It was not an excuse!" You sputter. You can't believe he's saying this to you. "It was real!” 

“You’re my wife. That's what's real and you should've stayed loyal.” He tells you unkindly, not interested in your explanations.

“So you want me to stay just out of principle even if you're just going to hate every second of being together?” It would be funny to see the way he has completely not changed even in this new life if it wasn't so painful.

“Maybe. But I certainly won't be made a fool of again and maybe it's high time you experience some consequences for your actions.”

Gyu's ending continuation:

“How could you do this? How could you be so stupid?” Beomgyu's response to you slipping out for the day seems like a wild overreaction. You know he insists on controlling every aspect of your life so you won't leave him again but going out to walk through the surrounding small village for a few hours could hardly have many consequences. Not when he apparently controls the whole village. 

“You’re overreacting.” You roll your eyes at him but that just makes him freak out more. 

“You don't know what you're risking. He could have found you! He could have taken you away from me!” 

“What are you talking about?” You push him off you. “How would he do that when you know exactly where he is at all times?”

You scoff at him but the scared look on his face makes you falter. “You've lost him, didn't you?”

He doesn't answer you, and you watch his face grow paler. “What is he going to do? You’re immortal.” 

“But I am not all powerful, and there are beings out there more wicked than me.” He tells you fearfully, reaching out to hold you once more. 

Unrelated fic idea:

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum.” 

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?” 

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?” 

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Also you can send and ask for any of the characters and I’ll answer as the character

[joelscruff]

safety (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader)

just a bit of an origin story for my boyfriend's dad!joel relationship. you can read other installments of this fic here. this one isn't smutty but i hope you enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you find yourself falling for your boyfriend's father. rating: 18+ (mdni) warnings: age difference, cheating, daddy issues, daddy kink, lap sitting, pet names (use of babygirl) word count: 2.2k

the first time your boyfriend's father kisses you, it's because you ask him to.

you've always looked at him a bit differently, always found yourself taking quick peeks out of the corner of your eye whenever he's in the room, given him shy smiles and giggled at all his jokes (most of which were actually funny, believe it or not). the first time you'd met him you'd gone to shake his hand, expecting a firm shake and a quick nod like your own father, but he'd surprised you completely when he'd wrapped you up in his arms, given you a bear hug and softly told you he was so happy to meet you.

your boyfriend always rolls his eyes at his father's affection, his jokes, his quirks. it's been almost disappointing in a way, to see the way his father behaves in comparison to his son. your boyfriend constantly seems to cultivate a cold exterior - and interior, if you're being honest with yourself - while his father radiates warmth and welcomeness, a safeness you've never seen in your own father. you wonder how your boyfriend is able to take such advantage of his father's kindness, that safety that so many people can only crave and never experience.

the two of you fight a lot, but this is normal for you. every relationship you've had - whether familial or romantic - has involved some form of conflict. it's just the way things are; you've come to accept that. the only difference is that before this you never had a third party standing on the outside, witnessing it, worrying about it.

"are you okay?"

the first time he catches you crying you feel embarrassed; until this point you've put on a good front, been your sweet and passive self around him. now he sees a different side of you, the side everyone else in your life has seen dozens of times. the side that hurts, feels pain, suffers.

you nod, leaning against the banister of the front patio and biting your lip, "yeah, i'm fine," your voice cracks and breaks - you're not fine, your boyfriend just berated you for messing up his concentration during one of his stupid games, called you a waste of space. but you're not going to tell his father that.

"you don't look fine," he murmurs, taking a step toward you, "something happen?"

you shake your head, "no really, i'm okay, mr. miller."

"joel," he corrects you softly with a gentle smile, and you try to smile back.

"joel," you repeat, "sorry."

"don't be sorry," he says tenderly, taking another step toward you and carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "i want you to know...if you ever need to talk to somebody, i'm here. i'll always listen, alright?"

you're not sure what to say; no one has ever given you an offer like that before. it's confusing and surreal. your brow furrows but you slowly nod, "okay."

he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and then goes back inside the house, leaving you standing there alone. the ghost of his touch weighs heavily for the rest of the evening, his words echoing in your mind. he can't really mean that, can he?

the next time he sees you cry it's only about a week after the first time, and this time he knows what's wrong. you can see it in his expression, the quiet anger burning behind his glasses for his own son.

"i won't defend him," he tells you softly, sitting next to you on the couch in the living room while your boyfriend yells something incoherent down the hall, "you can talk to me."

you find yourself confiding in him briefly, only briefly. you don't go into much detail, just tell him you hate being made to feel worthless, that it's something you've dealt with for a long time. he touches your shoulder again, squeezes it calmingly, reassuringly. you look into his eyes and feel yourself falling before you can even register it. he cares about you.

you think about him a lot. during the day, nights, when you're in bed and can't sleep and just want somebody to hold you. you imagine his arms wrapped around you, remember that first time you met when he'd hugged you so tight and welcomed you so warmly. you want him to hold you like that again, touch you, love you. you touch yourself and pretend it's his fingers, you bury your face in your pillow as you come and pretend it's his chest.

you think of him when you have sex with your boyfriend. you'd feel bad, but you've started to become numb with the way he treats you, uses you. you close your eyes and curl your hand in his hair and pretend it's his father on top of you, his father inside you, his father kissing your neck.

every week your boyfriend competes in ridiculously boring online competitions; you show up at his house only for the promise of seeing joel, talking to him, sharing a quick moment in the kitchen or living room with him. you sit on your boyfriend's bed and watch from afar as he bangs on the keyboard and shouts aggressive things into his microphone, sounding like a whiny and petulant child. you wonder what you even see in him anymore, what you even saw in him to begin with. you should end it, you know you should. but then how would you see his dad?

he berates you again for messing up his concentration, tells you to leave for a bit and to "stop being so annoying". you don't even protest, just climb off his bed and leave the room, slamming the door louder than necessary behind you.

joel spends a lot of time in his office; he's the head of a contracting company, always making plans, doing paperwork, making phone calls. he has his shit together, another thing you feel drawn to. he's the only person in your life who seems to know exactly what to do in any given situation, knows who he is and where he's going.

you find yourself climbing the stairs and knocking softly on his office door. "come in," he calls from inside, and you slowly push it open.

he looks up from his desk, scattered with paper and blueprints. his brow furrows when he sees it's you, "hey, sweetheart, you alright?"

you close the door behind you and then stand there for a few seconds just staring at him; he's got on a cozy looking grey sweater, knitted and warm. his jeans are dark and his socks are mismatched, a quirk you love. he looks perfectly disheveled in his joel miller sort of way, hair thick and curly, beard scruffy and soft. his glasses accentuate the kindness of his eyes, the tenderness as he looks at you. he's like a comforting beam of light, a safe haven.

"can you hold me?" you ask softly, barely a whisper. it's out before you even know you're saying it, and then you're biting down hard on your lip and feeling tears prick in your eyes.

he seems surprised but only for a moment, then he makes his way toward you in two long strides and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close. you melt into his embrace, burying your head in his warm sweater and almost collapsing into his arms, feeling yourself begin to cry steadily. you should feel embarrassed but you're too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being held by him again, feeling him so close, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture of comfort and safety, nothing more, "you're okay," he murmurs into your hair, "i've got you."

he holds you like that for a long time and makes no move to let go, just lets you stand there and take what you desperately need from him. your cries die down eventually until you're sniffling lightly into the thick fabric of his sweater and just breathing him in. his hands trail up and down your back comfortingly, tracing patterns and words, almost like a secret language.

"i feel safe with you," you mumble against his chest, but the words are muffled and hard to make out.

"hm?"

you pull back a bit to peer up at him with tear-filled eyes, cheeks pink and puffy, "i feel safe with you," you repeat, voice shaky but much more relaxed, calm.

he smiles softly, peering down at you with that familiar tenderness, "i'm glad," he murmurs, and you swear you catch his eyes trail down to your lips for a brief moment, "i want you to feel safe with me."

"can you kiss me?" you whisper, voice breaking on the last word, not caring that this could make or break the quiet companionship you've formed with him, "please."

his brow furrows again but he doesn't pull away, lips parting a bit in surprise, "sweetheart, i'm not sure that's-"

"please," you repeat, voice raw and desperate, "it's all i think about."

his expression relaxes then, the tenderness returning. with a resigned look you watch as he leans his face down toward you; you close your eyes and allow him to press his lips gently against yours, soft and sweet. he's so gentle, so warm, so safe. your arms wrap tighter around him as you kiss him back, a soft whimper falling from the back of your throat. it's perfect. he's perfect.

when he pulls away he leaves his forehead pressed against yours, and when you open your eyes your heart stutters when you see his face so close, lips wet from your saliva and eyes dark with desire.

"that what you needed?" he murmurs softly, nose brushing against yours.

you nod and kiss him again, humming quietly against him when he pulls you in closer and palms your back firmly, holding you close. you're not sure how it happens but you both end up on the small couch in the corner of his office, him sitting back against the cushions while you seat yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. his hands travel inside your shirt, exploring the soft expanse of your back as you whimper again into his mouth and revel in the feeling of being touched by someone so different.

"what else do you need?" he breathes, voice deep and husky as his hands travel from your back to your face, cradling it in his palms, "i'll give it to you, sweetheart, anything you ask. just tell me."

you could say a multitude of things; you could tell him to kiss you again, touch you, fuck you, the list goes on. and you want him to do all of that, but the one thing on your mind is what inevitably slips past your lips.

"i just want you to hold me," you whisper, and you don't care if you sound pathetic, "please."

he looks at you with a great deal of pain in his eyes, an empathetic gaze you've seen numerous times. he thumbs your cheeks, wipes away the tears there and slowly nods.

"okay, babygirl," he murmurs, "i'll hold you."

you sit in his lap for the next hour. it's quiet and peaceful and perfect; he rubs your back while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and letting his presence completely invade your senses. you fall asleep briefly, but when you wake up you're happy to find that you're still in his lap, still being held. he makes absolutely no moves to remove you from him, to pull away or leave the room. he just holds you.

"thank you," you whisper finally; it's time to leave, you know this. your boyfriend will be looking for you soon, wondering where you went and why you didn't come back. you pull your face up from joel's neck and look down at him with tenderness, love.

"any time," he murmurs with a gentle smile, then leans forward a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, "i mean it, sweetheart. any time you're upset, any time you need to be held...you come to me, okay?"

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay, "no one's ever held me like this before," you whisper, "not even my own father."

his brows scrunch together and he touches your arms, squeezing them carefully in his hands, "i'm sorry, babygirl," he breathes, "you don't deserve that," his eyes capture yours in an intimate gaze, "you deserve the world."

the word is there, fighting to be spoken behind your lips. but you don't say it. you don't want to make him uncomfortable, don't want to ruin something that's only just started. but you feel it there, the desire to call him what you've been wanting to call him since the day you met. but that's a conversation for another day.

instead of words, you settle for a kiss. you lean down and touch your mouth to his, feel the gentle scratch of his scruff against your chin as you open a bit wider to allow his tongue to prod inside, just for a moment. he tastes like comfort, feels like safety.

daddy.

[sunshine-sunni]

heyy can i ask for virgin!ghost having his first time with reader? ty💗

Non-non, I want you to know I tried to sleep but every time I closed my eyes I thought about this.

-🌤Tags: Afab, nsfw, p in v, over-eager Simon

Your feet stumble backward as Simon takes an aching steps forward, pushing you against the wall. His rough hands explore your mouth watering body, gripping and squeezing any soft flesh he can find. Your lips collide in a frenzied kiss, teeth clashing as you both moan with unbridled lust.

Simon's strong hands wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His hips thrust eagerly against your midriff, each movement accompanied by a grunt that turns into a fussy whimper as his lips meet yours. He's unable to control himself as he ruts away, the bulge of his cock rubbing against your belly button.

Your breaths come in short gasps as you try to speak, but Simon is too lost in his pleasure to hear you. He grinds against you sloppily, his movements wild and desperate. The sound of his heavy pants echoes through the room, the pitch rising with each passing second.

“Si…” You whisper again, this time louder as you place a hand on his chest. It seems to snap him out of his trance, his eyes meeting yours with a teary gaze. A wet spot had already formed on the front of his pants, evidence of his unbridled desire. “Simon, it's not a race.” Your voice is filled with concern and a hint of teasing frustration at his lack of control. His movements slow to a halt as he looks at you, still panting heavily and struggling to regain his composure.

“‘M sorry.” Simon mumbles between bated breaths.

“It's alright, dovie.” You whisper tenderly, cupping Simon's face in your hands. You wipe away any stray tears that escape his eyes, a result of his built-up sexual frustrations. You press a loving kiss to his lips, electing a desperate groan from him.

“Come on, I'm sure the bed is more comfortable.” You say softly, pushing yourself away from the wall and taking him by the hand. Simon follows obediently, his head bowed low like a scolded puppy.

You can't help but chuckle at his demeanor; he's clearly thrilled at the thought of being alone with you and away from work. This would be the furthest you've gone in your relationship aside from the occasional foreplay and groping touches, and clearly, he's ecstatic about it.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Simon wastes no time, stripping out of his clothes with such swiftness that it surprises you. He's impatient, needy, and completely enamored by you. Now naked, his chiseled form stands out amid the dim light, muscles reflecting the weight of his job while the leaky head of his cock announcing his thirst.

He reaches for you, his hands craving to be anchored to your very being, but you push him away, making him growl in frustration. “Not yet, need a johnny.” You remind him as you too begin to get naked.

“Don't need one.” He grumbles out.

“And why not?”

For a moment, there's no answer; only the sound of his heavy breathing as he watches your heavenly body be laid bare to his eyes. His mouth waters as he burns the naked image of you into his mind, never wanting to forget this view.

“Are you gonna answer me, Si?” You turn to look at him and in an instant, he pushes you onto the bed and forces himself between your legs, gazing down at what would be his downfall: your wet and succulent cunt waiting for his ownership. Simon tries to bully his way inside, but you shut your thighs close before he can even try. He meets your gaze with a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

“Do you even know what you're doin’?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

Simon freezes, almost like a deer caught in headlights, a pink flush creeping up his neck. “I've seen…in videos,” he admits through clenched teeth.

Your lips curve into a hum of amusement as you cautiously open your legs again and watch him for any impulsive moves. “Well, you can't just rush in.” You reach down and grip his cock firmly, bringing it towards your dripping entrance. “Slowly.”

Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as his cock enters you, thick and full, stretching you wide with each inch. Simon's mouth falls open and his eyes close, focusing on tightness surrounding him.

It's everything he wanted and more.

His excitement takes over, and with an abrupt, strong thrust, he buries himself completely, causing you to gasp in both pleasure and pain. But Simon doesn't seem to notice; he's already lost in the sensation, drooling with delight as a tingling buzz of electricity runs up his spine.

“Ohh… fuck,” Simon moans, thrusting uncontrollably, not giving you a moment to adjust.

You feel incredible. This is what he has been missing out on - pure bliss.

Simon's movements are rough and uncoordinated, hitting spots that you didn't know existed, causing you to occasionally grit your teeth in discomfort but also moan with pleasure.

“Simon, please slow down,” you manage to call out, gripping onto his forearms as he pounds against you.

But he doesn't hear you.

Simon's too focused on the feeling of your pussy around his cock, the wet squelching only adding to his satisfaction. And when he does open his eyes, it's not to look at you but rather at the sight of your stretched and swollen cunt under his relentless act.

You are perfect, your pussy is perfect. His hips are moving, but what about his hands? How does he use them? As he finally looks at your face, his brown eyes beg for help, as if he wasn't just ravishing you without any concern.

You huff with annoyance and briefly consider turning him away after he forced himself onto you. But those brown eyes... how can you resist him? With a roll of your eyes, you take his hands and place them on your breasts. "There, just play with them."

Simon pauses, his large hands exploring and squeezing your breasts to his liking, watching as your mouth falls open in moans.

Ahh... now he's getting it.

Simon begins to thrust again, this time not only focused on his own pleasure but also yours. He rolls and squeezes your breasts until your nipples stand up prettily. He leans down, pressing your breasts together and eagerly suckles and licks on your nipples, with a hint of roughness.

You're seeing stars now.

His length hits a spot deep inside you while his tongue wets your nipples, sucking and making popping sounds as he moves between both tasks.

While Simon's thrusts are still awkward, there is no more pain now as he learns what makes you tighten around him even more. "Am I doing good?" he asks in muffled words, lips sucking hard on one nipple while his eyes plead for praise.

You can only nod, unable to form any words beneath him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you until his tip reaches your cervix.

This spurs him on even further; the look in his eyes is intense, a burning flame only meant for you. Simon lets go of your breasts, interlocking his fingers with yours as he kisses you sloppily yet passionately, your tongues tangling together in a way he notices sends you into another tight clench. He takes note of this, kissing you even harder, the speed of his hips increasing as your bodies merge in a flurry of skin slapping against skin.

As your stomach tightens and your legs tremble, you know an orgasm is inevitable. "Si-" You gasp, pulling away from his lips. Simon silences you with a kiss, whispering, "Shh... I know."

He feels it, too. He wants it, too. He wants you to climax all over his cock. And you want nothing more than to give it to him. After all, it's his first time, and it's only fair that he gets his loves slick all over him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your bodies meld together in a warm embrace. Simon's close, too. He has been holding back since he entered you, savoring the feeling of being inside you for as long as possible. But with you beneath him, willing to give into his selfishness, how can he resist any longer?

He's on the edge, his hips starting to betray him. So he holds onto you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolls his hips out one last time before slamming back in and filling you with his hot cum.

"Simon!" You cry out in pleasure as your own orgasm washes over you, mixing with his inside of you.

In the aftermath, there is only silence apart from the sound of your heavy breathing. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, mixed with the musky aroma of Simon's cologne. It's almost suffocating, but in the most exhilarating way

Neither of you moves or speaks until you break the silence. "You did good, big guy," you praise sweetly, running your fingers through his hair.

But Simon grumbles at that; he doesn't want to just be good. He wants to be better for you. "Let's change that," he states huskily, pressing feather-light kisses to your neck and collarbone, already hardening inside of you for round two.

"Fuck." You moan as he starts moving again.

🌤 Ty for the request, I have sm more, but it's hard to come up with ideas.

P.S. This wasn't proofread

[rafesfavgirl]

treat you better — j. maybank

❝ tell me, why are we wasting time on all your wasted crying when you should be with me instead? i know i can treat you better ❞

pairing: best friend!jj x cheater!reader

context: once again, you went through your boyfriend's phone and found things you didn't wanna find. but for some reason, you can't seem to build up the courage to finally end things with him (he was your first love, after all). so, you turn to your best friend, jj, for advice and comfort.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: reader's in a toxic relationship, mild cheating (physical & emotional, but i don't condone it!!), a little angst, fluff

you sat at the edge of the pier at the chateau, your eyes focused on the way the moon reflected off the marsh. you had just snuck out of your boyfriend's house after he fell asleep and you looked through his phone.

adriana. kelly. paige. maya. lauryn. the number of girls' names you found in his insta dms and messages went on and on.

why did you put up with this? i mean, sure, he was your first… everything, but was he really worth it?

"y/n?" you hear a familiar voice call out your name and turn your head to find jj walking down the dock to join you. "what are you doing out here?"

"just needed some time to think," you said, looking back out towards the marsh.

jj lets out a sigh, already having an inkling of what must be bothering you, and takes a seat beside you. "let me guess… liam again?"

"i just don't understand why it can't just be me," you shrug, a thousand things running through your head. most of the time, liam told you the girls were just his "friends". but deep down, you always wondered whether or not he took it any further with any of them. and that thought, alone, made you sick to your stomach.

"i mean, am i doing something wrong?" you turn your head to look jj, only to find that he was already looking at you, a certain kind of sadness filling his baby blues. he hated that you even thought you were the one in the wrong.

"it's not you, y/n. whatever he's doing, it's on him," he tells you. "stop putting up with it."

"but i love him, j," you admit, your voice cracking a little. you knew that you shouldn't. he was a scum bag. nothing but a cheater. but he was also the guy who made you feel like the most special girl in the world. the one you'd completely laid yourself bare to. "what am i suppose to do about that?"

the defeated look in your eyes broke his heart. but instead of listing off different ways you could deal with liam, jj decides to be a friend, and opens his arms up to you, "come here."

for the first time all night, you let yourself break, and immediately fall into his arms.

"i just don't get it," you sobbed into jj's chest, as he ran a hand through your hair and rested his head on top of yours,

in an attempt to soothe you. "i've done everything, j." you continued. "everything he needs from me, i do. everything he wants me to be, i try to be. so why can't he just let the other girls go? why can't i just be the one?"

hearing you cry about this guy was not only breaking jj's heart, but also making his blood boil. liam didn't deserve you, he knew that much.

after a few minutes in silence of jj just running his hands through your hair and pepperring soft kisses on your head, you finally pull away from him, looking like a complete mess.

there were now black stains under your eyes from crying some of your mascara off, and pieces of your hair stuck to your tear-stained cheeks, as you sniffled.

"i'm sorry," you said, attempting to rub off the mascara stains also leftover on jj's shirt. "your shirt's all stained with tears and mascara now."

"i don't give a shit about my shirt, y/n," he tells you, bringing a hand up to tuck your messy hair behind your ear. "are you okay?"

you sighed, the tears threatening to well up in your eyes again. ugh. after hearing yourself going on about the way you've felt about liam treating you, you were beginning to wonder whether or not it was really love you were feeling for him or not.

but if it wasn't love, why did you still feel like crying?

"i don't even know anymore," you say honestly, shaking your head and running your fingers through your hair. "i mean, how do you even go about loving someone who's hurt you so much?"

"you don't," jj tells you.

"you don't think i love him?" i asked. i wasn't sure why i was asking jj, but i also knew that he knew me better than anyone. maybe even better than liam. so if there was anyone who could tell whether or not i was in love… it'd be him, right?

"i can't tell you how you feel, y/n," he says.

"i'm not asking you to," i reply. "i just wanna know what you think."

he sighs, and shifts his eyes between yours. he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure it was his place to do so—more so, he wasn't sure you'd like his take.

"promise you won't get mad?"

you chuckle, feeling uneasy now. "why would i get mad?"

"i think you're scared," he says, causing you to furrow your brows.

you scoff, thinking he sounds ridiculous. "scared? why would i be scared?"

"because he's your first," he shrugs. "i mean, he was your first, right?"

"so? what does that have to do with anything?" you ask, knowing damn well the information was relevant.

"i know you, y/n," he says, locking his eyes with mine. "you're a hopeless romantic who has your head buried in those romance books all the time because that's what you want. you want your first to be the one. and you're a perfectionist. you can't stand the idea of putting your all into one person only for them to not be worth it… so all this time… that's what you've tried to do."

you stay quiet. jj was actually making sense.

"i'm not saying you didn't love him," he continues. "i think you really did, but the love you felt before isn't what you're feeling now. i think it's just indifference. you don't want to believe that you've actually lost feelings for someone you've fought so hard for, so you try to convince yourself those feelings are still there. because that way… at least you won't be the bad guy."

your mouth had fallen agape, as you realized that jj was right. "wow."

"but you're not the bad guy anyway," he assures you, placing a hand on top of yours. "you've done all you can. what he does isn't your fault. your only fault would be staying."

"but what if he's fucked me up so bad that i've become unlovable?" you ask, voicing your real fear. truth was, you weren't always the best girlfriend. since liam made you feel so insecure about his feelings towards you all the time, it made you act out in ways you never thought you would. you'd call him incessantly when he wouldn't answer. you'd demand he cut certain girls off. ask for his location at all times. he saw the absolute worst of you. and yet, he stayed. what if no one else did?

"is that really what you think?" jj asks.

"i wasn't always the perfect girlfriend, j," i admit, glancing down and fiddling with his fingers on top of mine. "i was insecure all the time. i constantly-"

"because he made you feel that way," jj cuts you off, and picks your head up with his hands to make you look at him. "don't you get it, y/n? whatever you did, it was because of him. anyone made to feel insecure would act out. that's not your fault. you're just…" his eyes shift between yours. "human."

"but what if-"

"but nothing," he shook his head. "you are the absolute perfect version of yourself, y/n. and liam's an idiot for not realizing that. it doesn't get better than you."

without even thinking and being overwhelmed by the sweetness of jj's words, you lean in to kiss him.

he doesn't even hesitate to kiss you back, his hands on your face immediately tangling into your hair. 

your hands make their way to back of his head, the kiss deepening as they do.

your tongues dance together in perfect harmony, until you abruptly pull away.

"wait, wait, wait," you say, and he looks at you, a mix of confusion and sadness at the lost of touch present on his face. "this feels wrong."

he glances down, "oh."

"no, not like that. i mean-" you take a deep breath to get your words together, while jj just looks at you. "the kiss was great. amazing, even. it's just… i'm still technically liam's girlfriend."

his eyes light up at the compliment about the kiss, before he chuckles, "shit."

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[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ illicit affairs | ellie w.

PAIRING : dealer!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY : ellie williams has been in love with her best friend for as long as she could remember, there was only one problem: her girlfriend. that is until reader finds herself needing some comfort.

WARNING : cheating and somewhat nsfw!

WORD COUNT : 1,027

Your head was in Ellie’s lap for the fourth time that week, the familiar smell of weed and sandalwood overwhelming your senses as she exhaled the cream smoke facing towards the ceiling. Abby had cancelled on you again, urgent basketball practice, desperate excuses, bashful nicknames, a promise that would not be kept of making it up to you. Ellie passed you the blunt placing it right between your softly opened lips and watched with eager green eyes as you inhaled, her teaching, as you could finally avoid the embarrassing coughs rejecting the substance from your throat. Nothing could get past your best friend, especially not the tears that prickled your eyes in abnormal gloss.

“Hey” she said softly, taking hold of your chin between her fingers, squinting eyes as you exhaled directly at her face as a failed distraction tactic “Abby’s a fucking asshole, alright?”

“Don't talk about her like that” you defended instinctively.

Ellie raised both her hands in defense before snatching the blunt from you and placing it down, unusually letting it go to waste and bringing a pout to your face in response “All I’m saying is if I had a pretty girl like you waiting for me to get back every day I would do absolutely nothing of my life except going home to you”

You had kissed once, years back. Two sixteen year olds who had gotten into the liquor cabinet blissfully unaware of when to stop, challenging each other for one more chug. When the world spun out of control, a staring match bloomed for grounding. She’d figure you’d both burn out laughing at the nothingness, but your irises turned out to be magnets. Twenty seconds you stood in silence, basking in each other's personal sunlight beaming of indecipherable desire. You leaned in first, she remembered. Strawberry lip gloss like an ode. She still licked her lips after every taste of strawberry milk– remnants of you. You never spoke of the kiss again.

“She's got half the cheerleading squad chasing after her at every game, way prettier girls at every corner-”

“They've got nothing on you, have you seen you? Fuck, you are breathtaking. I'm a fine arts major and half a blunt away from going asthmatic, trust me I know breathtaking when I see it”

“What did you lace your smoke with, I think it's messing with your brain”

“I’m not being funny” she said seriously, scooting in a way that forced you to sit up from her lap and face forward. You weren't entirely oblivious to the romantic undertones of your friendship with Ellie, it had been there long before either of you fully knew what it meant and it would likely stay long after you have decided to act as if it wasn't there, this was just the first time you felt impulsed to act on it. The way she looked at you drew shivers up your spine and tired your eyelids, feeling completely seen and understood under the warmest gaze. You had thought yourself insufficient many times, unloveable a hundred more, and though not fully anyone's fault but your own, those doubts seemed to only slip away when Ellie had you trapped by her gaze. You watched intently as she lowered her eyes towards your lips. Your voice reacted before your body could.

“Ellie we can't-”

“Shh” she mumbled, leaning in “tell me when to stop”

Her lips ghosted over your own and you closed your eyes at the feeling of her warm breath so close, you were only children when your first and only kiss had occurred and Ellie has had plenty of experience afterwards, nowhere near as shy as you had remembered her to be. Her nose caressed your own in the lightest of touch and her hands reached up behind your neck, gripping you. You whispered her name in disapproval as it was all you could bear to do with the fast approaching lump in your throat blocking all senses. She hushed you again, leaning against your face and getting abnormally close to your ears, taking a strand of hair and placing it behind it.

“Tell me to stop and I will” she whispered in a low voice.

Before you could process anything her lips sucked in your earlobe softly, you let out a gasp that only made you feel her smile against your skin, slowly trailing wet kisses down your neck stopping by the clavicule. She stopped herself to look you in the face, demanding softly you opened your eyes and against all judgement you complied. Inches stood between you, there was still time to look back. Except maybe you didn't want to. You were desperate for attention and there it was, being handed to you on a silver platter by someone you so dearly trusted. It had been the second time you were first to lean in. You captured Ellies lips in the softest of kisses, melting into her touch that held you at the waist as though any gust of wind would carry you away from her reach. Soon enough the kiss was hungry, desperate even, your hands at her hair pulling it down, letting her groans echo inside your mouth, she leaped you into her lap and traced the arch of your back underneath the oversized shirt you wore till it reached and undone the clasp of your bra.

“Breathtaking” Ellie mumbled against your lips, grabbing a fistful of your breast and squeezing it, proud of herself at the moan you let out. She kissed down your neck once again, pulling on your shirt so you'd raise your arms and allow her to pull it off you. She wanted to hear her name come out of your lips, wanted to claim territory in every inch of your skin and dip herself between your legs with such earnest desire you'd know deep in your bones your girlfriend had never touched you this way.

And then your phone rang. The pet name baby lighting up your screen. You looked between your phone and Ellie for a moment, and then you picked up.

“Hi, yeah, I'll go find you. I missed you too.”

[bettsfic]

Venting-

When I hear people give the advice that writing is never a waste of time if you’re having fun or you should never feel like a story was a waste of time, you should enjoy the process. This advice I believe is real and true and works for some writers. But at the same time, there are writers who are very stressed when writing and feel better about their work when it’s finished. Not the “I enjoy having written.” But the “I have crippling anxiety and can only tell if my time, effort, and semi-breakdowns were worth something if I complete what I set out to do.”

Not to diminish anyone who agrees or resonates with the first statement, I admire those people a lot and wish I was calm enough to feel the same.

in my years of teaching and coaching, i've noticed there are two kinds of writers: "process" writers and "product" writers. rather, there exists a spectrum from one to the other.

on the process side, you have writers who reach a flow state fairly easily, who can become immersed in a world or idea of their own invention, and they write in large part to seek that immersive state. the end of a project seems more like a tragedy than an achievement because it marks the loss of the immersive state, and it will take energy and discipline and happenstance to find the next. i've also noticed that it becomes harder rather than easier to find that state over time; the more projects you finish, the fewer ideas appeal to you in the same way.

conversely, product writers get to feel that sense of achievement upon completing a project that process writers may lack, and that pleasure is worth the pain and turmoil of the act of creating something. product writing takes a lot of strength, patience, and discipline i think, to do something hard for the reward of having done it. it's the difference between an athlete and a surgeon. a person becomes an athlete for love of the sport, the act of playing. winning is important, but they wouldn't be able to win without first finding joy in the game. a surgeon, on the other hand, probably doesn't get into the job for the fun of operating. the fulfillment is in the operation's success; it's hard work with high risk. but the reward of saving or improving lives is worth it.

admittedly as a process writer it's always been hard for me to wrap my head around product writers. not only do i not have the patience to seek a sense of achievement, i think i'm mostly incapable of relishing any reward at all unless the reward is in the pursuit itself. looking back, i can't think of any single moment i've ever felt a sense of success. but also i've always struggled with concepts like ambition and competition. i've never had any drive to win anything, but also i've never felt much when i lose or fail. sometimes i wish those things mattered more to me, because then i would be a more driven and decisive person, and i'd be more successful in my career.

i know i'm on the extreme end of the process-product divide, and that colors a lot of my perspective of teaching and mentoring. but i think writers can shift on the spectrum depending on where they're at in their writing life or even with whatever project they're working on. i've been trying to have a more product-based mentality recently to at least develop the skill of shifting to the other side when i need to, so that i can get the patience and focus to write a novel that is not just me plopping my heart onto the page and hoping somebody out there cares. product writers have an easier time convincing other people of the value of their story, because the value of the story is a big reason why they write it. a purely product writer, like the surgeon, writes something because they feel that thing needs to exist in the world. meanwhile the only way for a purely process writer to be professionally successful is to happen by sheer coincidence to find an immersive state that also crosses with the interests of the current market. like the athlete, success involves training, hard work, and being at the right place at the right time. sure, churning out 100k words in a couple months and having a blast while doing it is great, but it comes from this wild inner place that can't really be controlled; meanwhile product writers can take that wildness and intentionally shape it into something. when you're feeling jealous of the other side, though, it's important to remember that both the meadow and the garden are equally beautiful.

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

HI! I absolutely LOVED the hcs about haitani brothers, and I was wondering if you could do some with kokonoi, maybe what he would be in a relationship. have a good day 💗 and thx!!

Of course! Thank you so much for requesting<3

Bf Kokonoi Headcanons

After what happened with Akane, he thought he'd never move on and fall in love with someone else, that is, until he met you.

What caught his attention? What did he even like about you? These questions has haunted your mind for so long. And after you heard about Akane and how Kokonoi loved her, you thought maybe he found similarities between you two, you somehow reminded him of Akane, and that's why he fell in love with you but, my god, you were so wrong.

After you told him how you thought, he sat with you and named 2000, exactly 2000 reasons of why he fell in love with you.

"Just the mere existence of yours is the reason why I'm happy to wake up everyday, I love you so much that I'd walk to the hell with you but I wouldn't mind burning for eternity if I get to be with you, if I get to see you."

"you don't deserve to be in hell because of me tho."

"Heaven will feel like a hell if you won't be with me and the hell will feel like a heaven if you'll be with me."

He seems like a flirty boy who's hard to make blush but all you have to do is smile at him and he'd already have pink blush on his cheeks.

He definitely would be very supportive partner. He'd celebrate your wins with you. He'd be so so so proud when you would achieve something that truly makes you happy.

What he do for you? What WOULDN'T he do for you? He'd risk his life countless times just for your happiness.

He hates when people speak nonsense, waste his times and talk completely pointlessly but when it comes his lover, he'd sit and listen to you for HOURS even if you would be pointlessly speaking nonsense because it's not a waste of time for him. He'd love every single second.

He'd spend billions on you like seriously, you'd have everything you could ever ask for.

I have seen people portray him as someone who'd just give his partner money when they're upset and NO?? He wouldn't take his lover's feeling in such a light way to just give you money without even comforting you. He'll definitely comfort you through your vent and give you advice, but wouldn't solve your problem for you because unless it's something you can't solve alone, you can solve it on your own. He's not taking your independence away.

He wouldn't be clingy in public but he'd be clingy at home, especially when he's stressed. He appreciates the moments when you two just lay down and cuddle in silence so much.

He's not really the one to be jealous type but of course, he'd have his boundaries and can get jealous sometimes tho he places 100% trust in his partner.

He's so creative when it comes to dates to be honest. He'd have everything planned, a place already chosen. He LOVES taking you to fancy restaurants but sometimes, he'd take you to places where it's more quiet for you two, where you two can really spend the time completely alone.

If he's angry at something, he'd ask for some space and after calming down, he'd interact with you immediately.

He's not exactly the one who speaks his feelings freely, unless something triggered it. And you understand how his coping mechanism works but you've told him to let his feelings out since he doesn't have to bottle them up when he haves you. This definitely touched his heart.

If his partner would freely vent, that'd be great but if his partner also has hard time venting, he'd wait for you to open up. He'll never pressure you to do so. He'll still find a way to cheer you up.

Good timeline Koko:

Surely, Akane won't ever be the problem since in that timeline, he did move on from her and neither did the fire incident happen.

Sorry, I wanted to make some NSFW headcanons with GT Koko only! So here's some:

He's definitely switch, at least in my opinion. He might loves to be in control but he could very submissive sometimes.

He wouldn't rush things in bed, he'd worship your body and kiss you everywhere, telling you how mesmerising and gorgeous you look.

He wouldn't go for things such as bdsm unless you tell him that you want to, because bdsm isn't something everyone enjoys.

Okey, he might have slight bondage kink or other bdsm kink because he definitely isn't the one to only have innocent kinks such as praise kink.

He definitely does NOT have daddy/mommy kink. I actually feel like he'd be weirded out or cringed if someone calls him daddy and he wouldn't call someone mommy either. The petnames such as love, handsome, darling has him weak in knees and closer to his orgasm.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ੈ✩‧₊˚✧.*☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ-ˋˏ ༻

I hope you liked this! Again, thank you so much for requesting! Have a great day/night!

[talaok]

Chapter one: The perfect life

Pairing: No-outbreak!Joel x married!reader

Series summary: You moved to Austin Texas with your husband due to his job, but your already troubled marriage is about to get more complicated when the contractor remodeling your home, Joel Miller, will enter both of your lives.

Chapter summary: Moving to Austin was the right decision, but you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.

warnings: hints to the reader's unhappy childhood, and a very short smut moment

Next chapter

New city, new home, new life.

You should have been happy, you really should have been, but the weight that had sat on your chest as you got on the plane had lingered.

You wanted this. You had to.

You had the perfect life.

A big house with an even bigger lawn, more money than you ever thought possible, and a loving husband.

A loving husband of two years, a loving husband who had to move to Texas for work, a loving husband who you followed across the country, leaving everything and everyone behind, because it's him, and you love him. 

Yes. You love him, just as he loves you.

You just needed time, time to adjust, and find a way to start new.

And Austin seemed as good a place as any.

It's warm and sunny here, and the city has an aura you had never quite encountered in any other place.

It's different from New York, yes, but different is good, different means change, and you needed a change.

"I smell burnt"

"oh- shit" you hissed, your gaze finally dropping from the window and down towards the pan where bacon was frying.

You turned the stove off and opened the window, trying to get some of the smell out. 

"You ok?" 

You looked at Richard, his deep blue eyes, perfectly slicked-back hair, and the tailored suit hugging his body like a second skin made him look as if he had come straight out of a commercial.

He wasn't watching you anymore, his attention had moved to the coffee maker.

"yeah I'm fine, I'm just a little tired I guess"

"you should rest today," he said, pouring some coffee into a cup

"I will" you nodded, glancing at the pan "I should probably make more bacon"

"don't worry" he stopped you "I'll just eat something on the way"

"you sure?"

"Yeah" He took a sip from his mug and set down on a stool 

"So..." you walked to the opposite side of the kitchen counter to face him "Are you nervous?"

He raised his eyes from his phone to look at you.

"Why would I be? I'm the boss"

"yeah, but it's still your first day"

He shrugged "I just want to get it over with, today's only gonna be meetings and people introducing themselves, tomorrow's gonna be my actual first day"

"right," you offered him a small smile "And have you talked to Francis?"

"Yeah, he said he'll show me around today" 

He stood up to place the cup in the sink.

"and about the remodeling?"

"Right, yeah he gave me a number, I'll text it to you"

"great"

Silence fell, and with it, a spell seemed to turn you both to stone

He broke it first

"Right" he glanced at his watch "I better go"

"Right," you said, taking a step closer to him.

His lips were on and off of yours so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

"Have a great day" you managed, as he walked out of the room

"you too"

__ __ __

The shelves had finally started to come to life.

"Why do we have to bring all your books, it's a waste of time" you recalled Richard saying "It's not like you're gonna read all of them again"

It infuriated you how he didn't get it, how completely baffled he was by your decision.

Like hell you were leaving such an important part of you back home.

Some of the volumes filling the living room you've had since you were a child, some of these stories raised you when there was no one else bothering to do the job.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at your lips as your gaze fell to the last remaining book in the box.

'scary stories to tell in the dark'

You were only 12 years old when you read it. You had found it in the school library, and tempted by a bravado that didn't belong to you, you had picked it up and stuffed it in your bag, carrying it all the way home as if it were the most precious treasure ever known to man.

It had helped silence the screams down the hallway, but it also made it impossible for you to sleep for a whole week.

A quiet laugh climbed your throat as you remembered watching every shadow in your room mutate into a horrifying monster.

You had never given it back.

The barely-together copy in your hands was the same one you had held 22 years ago.

For some reason, out of all the books you've read, this one you held closer to your heart.

Perhaps it was the rebellion behind the act, or perhaps, it was the feeling that that book had given you, the courage, the proof that you could do it, that you were gonna come out the other end, the proof, at last, that monsters can be fought, and at times even defeated.

You sighed, as you settled the book onto the now overflowing shelf, taking a step back to admire the living room.

That's it.

Piece by piece, you were gonna make this your home.

The next hours passed in a frenzy and by the time only a box was left on the floor, it was two in the afternoon.

You had been so caught up with your work you had forgotten to eat.

And now that you realized... god if you weren't hungry.

It's just one more box though, you thought as you peeked at it.

Yeah, c'mon I can do this

Only the stuff for the coffee table remained, and as you took the first item-

Fuck.

The shattered lamp rested on the floor like paint on a Pollok.

Fuck me, man, that was expensive.

You cringed as you bent to try and pick up the sharp pieces, but of course, as a ringing sounded across the room, you gasped and lost your focus, cutting your finger on the glass.

A stinging pain shot through you and you winced loudly, stumbling backward while trying hard not to look at the blood.

This really wasn't the time to be fainting.

Your phone was still annoyingly ringing.

"What?" you picked up without bothering to look

"I'm sorry is this a bad time?" what sounded like a confused male's voice spoke through the phone.

"Richard?" you frowned as you realized it was an unknown number "I'm sorry who's this?"

"I'm Joel, Joel Miller, from the contracting company" he paused "Your husband gave me your number"

"oh" you breathed "I-I'm sorry, he didn't tell me"

"Ma'am if this is a bad time I can call you later"

"no, no please don't worry I just- Now it's fine"

"ok good, your husband has told me you want to do some remodeling?"

"Yeah, we have a big room on the second floor that's unutilized and I'd like to build up a wall and make it into two rooms, perhaps a guest bedroom and bathroom"

He hummed, considering your words "That shouldn't be a problem, I'd like to come to your house one of these days so I can see the space firsthand"

"Yeah sure" You nodded, wrapping a paper towel around your finger once you walked to the kitchen "Would tomorrow be alright?"

"Absolutely, how does 10:30 sound?"

"perfect" you smiled 

"Alright then, if you just give me your address we're gonna be all set"

"of course"

__ __ __

he didn't come home for dinner.

"I'll eat out with some of my colleagues"

That's all he said.

And before you knew it you were heating a frozen pizza in the oven, and watching the sun disappear on the horizon through the kitchen window.

It was good that he stayed out, that's what you kept repeating in your head.

It's good that he's already getting to know his colleagues, and it's good that he's already settling in, it's perfect.

It's what you should be doing.

And yes you would have liked to spend more time with him today, but there's still tomorrow, and the day after that... there's still the rest of your life, one day certainly won't make a difference.

And it's not like you didn't enjoy the quiet, it gave you time to think, to look around the bare walls and ponder what you should fill them with.

A painting there, a mirror there, photos there... it was all coming together in your head.

The house had started to look more like a home, your home.

It was 9 pm by the time you decided to go to bed, it was early for your standards, but you'd had a long day.

He wasn't home yet.

You didn't know what time it was when you heard the front door open, but you were still awake, having tossed and turned hoping to tire yourself out for what felt like an eternity.

"hey" you murmured, once he entered the bedroom

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep"

He only nodded, as he started undressing

"So how did it go?"

"well," he said "Everyone seems nice enough"

"I'm glad" you smiled, turning on your side to look at him better "I unboxed everything for the living room today"

"cool," he sighed, hanging his suit and walking into the bathroom.

You laid there, listening to the toilet flush and the sink being shut on and off.

He emerged from the door again and made his way into the bed.

"And the contracting guy called" you continued, as he made himself comfortable "He'll come by tomorrow"

"that's good" he breathed, turning the light off 

"I told him what we wanna do and he said it shouldn't be a problem"

"yeah?" he asked, as you felt him shuffle closer to you

"Yup, he said he's done stuff like that before and he just needs to-" Your words got lost in your throat once you felt his hand travel to your chest.

"Richard?" you murmured, while his mouth moved to your shoulder and slowly up your neck.

The smell of his two hundred dollars aftershave hit your nostrils immediately.

"mh?" he hummed, letting his hand sneak down to find your ass through your shorts.

"Richard... I'm tired" you whimpered

"C'mon baby, you don't have to do anything I'll do all the work"

His hands on you felt inexplicably wrong right at that moment.

"I just-" you tried to slowly shift away from his grip "I've unpacked all day, I don't feel like it"

He emitted an audible groan "Y/n it's been like a month since you've last felt like it"

Your mouth closed as quickly as it had opened.

It was the truth, you hadn't been in the mood for a while now. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know- maybe tomorrow..."

He sighed, pushing himself off of you

"Whatever"

A small gust of air sent a shiver up your spine as he got up.

"where are you going?" you asked, watching his shadow move around the room.

"I'll just watch some tv or something"

"oh- alright," your voice was so small you almost didn't sound like yourself.

He didn't seem to hear you as he closed the door behind him, casting a veil of darkness over the room.

Once again, you were alone.

You turned towards the window, the moon's soft glow split the ocean of blue in the sky, shily lighting the neighborhood.

You felt a knot in your stomach, a sudden urge to cry, but as you watched the wind glide through the leaves and trees and grass, you were able to breathe, breath with each gust, slowly willing your heart to stop racing and your eyes to dry.

There was nothing to cry about.

Everything was good, great, fantastic even.

You had the perfect life.

Everything you had ever dreamed of was right in your grasp.

You just needed time, and everything was gonna work itself out fine.

…

Next chapter

...

(if you’d like to be added to the taglist comment or text me)

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Ok this is my first time requesting but, what about the characters reacting to MC choosing the evil route and to absorb the ancient magic?

HLC REACT TO MC ABSORBING DARK ANCIENT MAGIC

WARNING: angst, canon death

All the power Isadora stored found its rightful place, inside MC. The chaos of the final battle settled to an eerie silence. MC had never felt such clarity. The magic truly was nothing to fear. It was theirs to wield. To control. The very fabric of reality bent to their will. This wasn't a bad thing. No. Everything was going to be just fine.

ELEAZAR FIG: He can barely breath as he watches MC fight to control the magic around them. He couldn't reach out to them. He feared they wouldn't listen if he could at that point anyway. He watched the red ink like magic enter MC. He saw their eyes... What had they become? "I'm sorry I...failed you...M-..." Death claims him in his final moment of sorrow.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He's taken aback by MC's sudden insistence about curing Anne. They went from "I'm not even sure I can do what Isadora did" to "I CAN CURE ANNE" overnight. They seem manic, wide eyed and a bit... unhinged. He would be thrilled to hear this but MC's sudden shift in energy has him unsettled. Besides, Anne isn't in Feldcroft anymore and Ominis isn't speaking to him. He's not sure what to do.

OMINIS GAUNT: He regrets letting it slip that he was in contact with Anne. MC is now demanding to see her. They don't sound themselves. Their very presence feels "off". He can't quite explain it. He starts avoiding them as well. Not that it seems to help, he discovers his dorm has been raided. Letters to and from Anne stolen.

ANNE SALLOW: She's in a quiet cottage far south of Hogwarts valley. She's alone, trying to find peace, when there is a sudden knock at the door. She raises her wand. She's not expecting visitors. She hears a familiar voice on the other side. "MC? What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

MC enters and politely closes the door behind them. They look at her with a smile that should seem friendly, but there is malicious intent in their eyes. "Stay back!" She tries to shout but the curse surges with pain and she grabs her side. While she's distracted MC wordlessly expells her wand and taps their own wand to her chest.

She sits at the table next to the fire. There is no pain. Yet, there is no relief. No joy. Nothing...

IMELDA REYES: MC isn't challenging her to race anymore. They seemed to have lost all interest in competing. Even when she instigates them, they just smile at her with this really unsettling smile and say it's a waste. They had "bigger plans" whatever that means. She always knew they were a bit weird, but this was completely out of character.

NATSAI ONAI: MC suddenly didn't seem like the person she thought she knew. They would ask her if she was still in pain from the crusiotus curse and seem way too interested in "taking her pain away". She didn't understand why they suddenly seemed so obsessed with her pain. Then the questions became inappropriate, asking about her emotional pain. Like when she lost her father. She's less interested in being around them after that, but she keeps seeing MC out of the corner of her eye.

GARRETH WEASLEY: MC seemed strangely distant since the goblin attack. He would try to involve them in more of his experiments, like they used to, but they refuse every time. Then they would get rude that they had "real magic" to perform, not "alchemical party tricks". He's not sure what he had done to offend them, but he's sorely disappointed that he lost what he thought was a friend.

LEANDER PREWETT: He hears whispers. Rumors that MC is behaving differently. He can see it too, even from a distance. MC destroying things for fun, having no regard for any school work or activities, casting spells that seem WAY too strong for any fifth year. He decides to just steer clear.

AMIT THAKKAR: He's been hearing MC talking to themselves, muttering about change. Change that didn't sound like anything good. If he asked, they'd just tell him "You'll see". They're being cryptic and creepy and he doesn't like it. He doesn't even see them in class anymore. He doesn't know where he'll see them again, but he jumps every time they seem to appear out of nowhere.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He's so far out of the loop that he doesn't understand what's going on. He knows about the goblin attack, everyone does, but MC is suddenly acting like a crazy person? Hogwarts favorite person to talk about seems to be cracking. Shame. He liked them.

POPPY SWEETING: She notices that even the beasts are acting differently around MC. They seem frightened. They can sense something is very wrong with MC. She tries to gently broach the subject and MC nearly takes her head off with defensive rage, their eyes flashing red. Then their mood rapidly shifts to apologize. She backs away. Stay away from her.

MC: They'll all see. I am the answer. I am the truth. I am the end AND the new beginning. There is no good or evil, only power.

They'll all see

They'll all see

T̴̢̘̀h̸̛̟͔͆͠ẻ̴̠̀͝y̵͕͂̾'̶̝͈͇͒͐l̴̜̙͛̈́̇l̸̲̳̻̉̇͛ ̸̤͓͓͝ã̷̠̪ḷ̶̡̀̆̆l̵̗͓̅̓̋ ̴̜̣̏s̸̨̈̆̅ë̷͓́e̶͍͇͐͌͝

[daisyblog]

I Won’t Give Up

Too Young Masterlist Summary: Louis finds out YN is pregnant at his Mum's wedding.

It was the 20th of July, 2014. The day that YN had to see Louis for the first time, since their one night of passion. For the last fews weeks, YN had kept busy, uni assignments had helped with that but now that she had completed her second year she had time to think about the reality.

Louis' Mum was getting married today, and YN had been looking forward to the day. But since her and Louis steamy night and YN finding out she's pregnant, she was nervous to see him again.

YN arrived had the wedding venue with her Mum and Robin, and they were each handed a glass of champagne. YN looked at her Mum not knowing how to say no to the drink.

"Just hold it in your hand for now." Anne whispered discreetly in her ear. Her Mum and Robin were the only people to know that she was pregnant.

"C'mon...I can see Harry down there." Robin spoke to the two women, nodding his head in the direction where Harry was standing talking with Niall.

The three walked down to where there were groups of guests huddled together. Jay and Dan had got married a little earlier in the day, their ceremony was small and intimate with just their close family and friends. Therefore the other guests were invited to the afternoon and evening celebrations.

"Hey womb mate." Harry wrapped his arms around his sister after he had given his Mum and Robin a cuddle.

"Hi twin." YN gave Harry a slightly smile, one that didn't quite reach the top of her cheeks.

Harry knew his sister better than anyone. "You alright?".

YN nodded her head quickly, not wanting to make Harry any more suspicious. "Yeah..I'm fine.". YN heard Louis voice behind her, he was talking to one of the guests. "Niall...you can have my drink...I don't like it." YN lied and passed her drink to Niall before she excused herself to use the bathroom.

Once YN got to the bathroom, she touched up her make up, her way of procrastinating so she could hide away for longer. After she touched up her lipstick and fixed up her hair, YN took a deep breath and went back outside to find her family. As YN was walking towards them, she bumped into Jay and the one person she was avoiding.

"Aw YN, there you are." Jay greeted her with a warm hug. "I just asked your Mum where you were.".

YN avoided looking at Louis, who's eyes she could feel burning into the side of her head. "Toilet break." YN tried to joke. "Congratulations...you look beautiful.".

"Oh thank you my love." Jay smiled sweetly at the younger Styles. "But between us, I can't wait to get out of this dress.". Earning a giggle from YN. "Lottie is calling me over...I'll see you later sweetheart.".

On the inside YN panicked as Jay hurried off in the direction of her daughters because now she was alone with Louis.

"Not talking to me are you?" Louis wasted no time in calling YN out for giving him the silent treatment.

YN looked at the ground, not feeling confident to look at him. "I haven't seen you to talk to you."

"You won't look at me either." Louis continued to push for answers. "Look...if it's about what happened-".

"Just leave it Lou!" YN snapped, shocking Louis. "Like you said, no stings attached so stop talking about it.".

Louis wasn't expecting YN to be so defensive. "YN...what's wrong?".

"Nothing...just leave me alone!" YN huffed before she quickly went back to find Harry, leaving Louis stood in the same spot wondering what had just happened.

But little did the two know that Anne had been watching their interaction from a far, wondering why their conversation seemed so tense.

YN relaxed once they were all in the marquee and sat in their designated seats, her between Harry and her Mum. Niall, Liam and Sophia also sitting on their table too. YN had turned down many drink offers and continue to sip on her orange juice, she was glad that nobody had mentioned the fact that she was not drinking any alcohol. YN was talking across the table with Liam's girlfriend, when she saw Louis walking towards their table.

"Alright Tommo?" Niall asked as Louis stood next to his chair.

"I've got meself into a game of dare with me sisters." Louis began to explain, everyones eyes on him.

Liam's eyes scrunched up as he laughed. "What have they dared you to do?".

Louis eye's found YN's eyes. "Daisy dared me to dance with YN".

YN knew all eyes were on her now too. She wanted to say no but she didn't want any one to question why. So she put on her best fake smile and followed Louis to the dance floor.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, as his slipped around her waist. Goosebumps covered her arms from the touch, teasing her about what had happened the last time they were this close.

The song changed to I Won’t Give Up and YN tried her best to hold her tears back, trying to put on a good show.

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts We got yeah we got a lot at stake And in the end you're still my friend at least we did intend For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not And who I am

The lyrics were taunting her, her throat went dry and she was focusing on her breathing. “YN…you’re crying.”.

She shook her head slightly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up I'm still looking up

Louis was filled with worry and guilt as he saw a tear threaten to fall from YN’s eye. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you here.” YN looked at him directly in the eye, silently pleading with him.

He guided her off the dance floor and outside to where the was a small building where his Mum had gotten ready this morning. Once he checked that the room was empty, he led YN inside.

Even though they were alone, YN still couldn’t find the words to say.

“I’m sorry about what happened between us…it probably shouldn’t have happened…I mean I don’t regret it but you obviously-“.

YN interrupted Louis. “I’m pregnant.”.

Silence.

YN’s heart was thumping against her chest now that she had said the words out loud to Louis. It was real now.

Louis was never speechless but his mind was completely blank as he stared at the girl in front of him. He didn’t really know what to expect YN to say, but her saying she was pregnant never crossed his mind.

“You’re pregnant?” Louis said out loud, looking to see if he had heard correctly.

YN sniffed from the tears running down both cheeks. “Yeah…about seven or eight weeks.”.

“Shit…fook…fookin’ shit.” Louis mumbled to himself. “Harry’s going to hate me.”.

���I won’t tell anyone you’re the dad, if you don’t want people to know.” YN offered to protect Louis.

“Hey…you’re not doing this alone.” Louis spoke. “I’m the dad and a dad to this baby I will be.”.

Hearing these words, YN pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his torso, Louis following and holding her close to his chest.

As the pair stood as one in the middle of the room, the sound of the bathroom door opening caused them both to freeze. As they turned to look at who had heard their conversation, Jay was standing in the door way.

“I think you two have some explaining to do.”

Taglist: @jillsvalentinex @itsmytimetoodream @peterholland04 @youcan-nolonger-run @chronicallybubbly

[karolinswritings]

Can I request envy x gn reader who found him when he was is his little worm form and took him in? And then he reveals himself or something and him and reader just live together? I feel like that would be fun.

Okay I love this request, honestly I find his little worm form adorable. I am sorry for the veeery late reply, thank you so much for the request, I hope you like the headcanons. They turned out to be more like a story, I hope that's fine ^^

Fullmetal Alchemist Envy Headcanons: Envy x reader who took him in when he was in his little worm form

In these headcanons, Envy managed to escape from Mustang, Riza and Ed and he ended up alone on the streets of Amestris before he could return to Father, because of his lack of energy left.

I think when reader found him and took him in, he would be so tired and dizzy that he wouldn't really understand what is happening. All he can remember is a human reaching towards him and the warm touch of their palm.

After resting for a while he would regain consiousness and look around reader's house, observing their furniture and possesions, trying to understand where he is. Looking at their dining table he would see them and recognise them as the person who picked him up and carried him somewhere earlier. That's when it would all come together and he would realise that he is in a human house and has been taken in.

He would definitely know what condition he is in and that considering the absence of any philosopher's stones to help him regain his energy, he would stay quiet and observe their actions carefully.

When he notices reader holding a book and reading carefully through it, as if they are looking for something, and notices that it is a book about lizards and how they live, he would get the idea of pretending to be a lizard until he can find a way to regain his powers.

As time passes, he would quickly notice how careing reader is and how much they care about him. He would slowly start to trust them more and more, letting them feed him and even pet him. He would start feeling lonely whenever they are out and his eyes would sparkle with excitement anytime they come back to him.

At some point, probably after about a month passes and he notices that he doesn't entirely hate humans, specifically reader, now thinging of them as his human, he would decide to reveal himself. As to his plan of running away as soon as possible, looks like it will have to wait for a bit. This human just awoke his interest, he can't just leave.

One time, seeming out of the blue for reader, but completely planned by Envy, the little lizard would suddenly speak.

" Listen here, human. I am not a pet lizard, I am homunculus, so you should definitely stop wasting your time reading all those books, wondering how to take care of me properly. If you wanna know so bad, I might just tell you. If you ask nicely of course."

Seemingly not careing about reader's shocked expression and lack of ability to say a word from suprise, Envy would use all that's left in him to transform into his prefered form. He would have to take a seat on a nearby chair from exhaustion, but would look up at reader with a slight smirk, proud of how mesmerized they look from seeing his shape-shifting abilities.

"What? You didn't notice that whole time that I was homunculus? My oroboros tattoo was all out there for you to see and you just tought it's a spot? You're so oblivious..So, what do you think? I'm quite--"

For Envy's suprise, reader cuts him off and lifts up his chin for them to observe his features, still not really understanding what happened. They take a look at his eyes, nose, lips, making him feel more and more nervous. All of a sudden his cheeks get pink and he looks away, obviously embarresed.

"What? What's so interesting?...Stupid human.."

" You're quite handsome. So you are.. a homunculus? I think I have heard about them before, alchemists say that homunculi are artificial humans. But I definitely didn't imagine one to look so..nice."

After hearing reader's unexpected words, Envy would consider staying with them for a while, and then leaving, but the tought of ending their life doesn't seem to be of his liking, so he decides to put aside his departure until he feels satisfied enough with their presense. He won't think of it for a while.

As time goes by though, he would realise he doesn't really want to leave. At all. Everyone probably thinks he is dead anyways, so why not spend more time here? On top of all, he has his own human now.

He would get addicted to reader's care and would love feeling like a royalty, being served food, treated pretty much as a diety and being the center of reader's attention everytime he decides to tell them about all of his abilities and the pros of being homunculus.

I think he would think of various ways to get to a stone so that he can regain his abilities. Staying with reader and talking to them is quite interesting and new to him, but he would definitely miss being able to use his full abilities. If he manages to return them, the first thing he would do would be to show off to reader, taking in their compliments and watching them stand in awe as he shape-shifts into all kinds of things.

Sooner of later I think he would totaly forget about all the stuff he used to be interested in doing before. He is curious as to how living with his human would be like and in what new ways he would use his abilities.