#STOP ANGSTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE

[borathae]

Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, SMUT

Warnings: Hard Dom!Jungkook, happy sub!Reader, size & strength kink, he is a lot taller than her, angst & misunderstandings in the beginning, poor woman gets threatened left and right at her own bonding party, please protect her, Kook is hurt by her at first but the problem gets solved hihi, her brother is a dick tbfh, insanely protective!Jungkook, whipped Alpha in loveeee, lots of kisses and touches, he is really soft with her & just a lil nervous, he is so lethal tbfh no wonder she gets turned on by him so easily bahaha, kissing & biting of her scent spots, the spots are on her neck and her tits and her inner thighs, he accidentally stimulates them long enough that she goes into heat, which makes him go into his ruts <3, this is a really passionate bonding night for sureeee, intense and hungry nipple sucking, her poor omega tits swell and produce sweet liquid (not milk just idk omega liquid lmaloaooa listen I made this up as I was going and it's hot), Jungkook eats it upppp, sooooo much slick, lots of drool and tears hihih, rough penetrative sex with his big alpha cock, knotting, lots of orgasms for both, breeding with his hot cum mhmh, listen he fucks her roughly while he is knotted which means she repeatedly gets penetrated by his knot, she likes it cause she is so into him, stimulation of her cervix which feels really good for an omega, she is in heaven with him fr, he never felt as good before as well, sex in missionary then in mating press and then just tangled up in a mess of limbs, praise, hand holding, he calls her "baby" & "my love" & "princess", the cuddliest and safest and giggliest aftercare, they're not aware of it yet but they're true mates <3, oh yeah! they break the bed

Wordcount: 15.8k

a/n: YOU HOES (affectionately) ASKED FOR IT AND THIS HOE (me, derogatory) LISTENED!!! I FUCKING LISTENED!!! AND I AGREED!! We need more Alpha!Kook in our life and on this blog. This is the hottest smut ever like (tmi but) i need to jerk it afterwards, which rarely happens with my smut HFAHDSFH i need him to be my alpha husband and rearrange my guts daily tbfh 😔 have fun besties, i hope this is a worthy enough sequel to the first part 😩💛 ps: for all you omegaverse veterans, i'm still a newbie to this AU and this story is MY interpretation of the AU hehe any rule changes are done intentional to my comfort levels <3

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would mean This, perhaps you never would have agreed. Perhaps if the night hadn’t been so stormy and you so hopeless, you wouldn’t have said yes. 

But you did and now you are here. In front of the entire pack, in a long dress as your pack’s priest is talking about eternal faithfulness. You knew that being marked by an alpha would mean that you had to be with him, but didn’t think it would mean This. 

Your family is in the audience. First row, next to Jungkook’s family. Your brother stares at you with a look you can’t quite make out. You still can’t really stand his face. Jungkook’s father seems displeased and you don’t blame him. The little stunt you pulled made alpha Urquard furious and it was Jungkook’s father who had to take care of it. He wanted to trade another omega at first, but Jungkook stopped him before that could happen. You didn’t get to see Jungkook for two whole days after this incident and when he came back, his upper lip was chipped and he didn’t want to talk about what happened. 

“Urquard’s not gonna bother our pack again. That’s all you need to know”, he told you tiredly while you tried to nurse his lip. “And there’s something else. It’s about us”, he then continued.

“About us? What about us?”

“If we wanna keep living here, we have to do something.”

“What do we have to do?”

“And with this kiss, I may pronounce you husband and wife”, the priest says and howls. The rest of the pack follows. Everyone, except Jungkook’s father who is staring holes into you darkly. It is custom for werewolves to howl for a newly bonded couple. It is meant to bring luck and happiness into the marriage. Having the pack alpha refuse this ritual is not a good sign. 

You gulp down the heavy lump in your throat, shifting your nervous eyes to Jungkook. He seems nervous too, clasping your clammy hands. He closes the distance. Thankfully the howls are loud enough to mask your voices.

“He isn’t-”

“I know. Ignore him. He’s a stubborn idiot.” Jungkook cups your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” 

You hesitate, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen in your lungs. His father isn’t howling. What if Jungkook doesn’t want this bond either? If you knew that your night with him would end in marriage, maybe you wouldn’t have said yes to him. He wants to kiss you, doesn’t he? His eyes are studying your lips. You want to kiss him too, but it is so scary to go for it. What if he doesn’t want this bond? You hesitate and hesitate. As a matter of fact, you hesitate long enough for the howls to die down. 

Heavy, thick silence follows. The pack stares. The priest stares. Jungkook’s father stares. Jungkook himself stares.

“Hey uhm, this is the part where you kiss me”, he whispers. 

“I know”, you whisper back.

The priest clears his throat. Jungkook licks his lips nervously, still waiting for your consent. Someone in the audience coughs.

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would lead to having to bond with him, perhaps you never would have agreed. He promised you that you would just have to pretend, that you wouldn’t have to be with him if you didn’t want to and yet here you are. You are now officially his mate. Well, not until you kissed him. You really want to kiss him, but it’s so scary. 

“You have to kiss for the bond to be sealed��, the priest whispers as well. 

You glance at the audience. Your family seems nervous. Jungkook’s father seems hopeful but also very angry. You look at Jungkook, whose eyes have darkened slightly.

“It seems that the bond is invali-”, the priest tries to announce loudly, but before he can finish his sentence, Jungkook silences him by pulling you into the kiss. 

You gasp, eyes wide open and body frozen. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close. The priest sees it as a sign and begins the howling again. It fills the wedding house, almost sounding like melodies of joy. But you feel sick to the stomach. You are mated for life. Jungkook made sure of it and you made sure of how your marriage will be because you hesitated. You can see it in his eyes once he pulls back and they are as cold as ice. Holy fuck, you messed up.

The iciness of his stare continues long into the festivities. It is the duty of the newly  bonded couple to open the dance floor with a dance. You and Jungkook have to wait behind a curtain to be called to the floor. You arrive a little later than him because your mother wanted to talk to you before that. Something about being a good mate to him. You didn’t really listen because she pissed you off. 

Jungkook sends you an icy glare, tonguing his cheek.

“You”, you stomp to him. Your mother made you angry enough that you feel the need to take it out on him. 

He watches you with a cocked up brow. You shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge, but stares with widened eyes. 

“How dare you force the kiss onto me like this. You took away my choice”, you hiss.

“Tch.”

“Don’t tch me. You said that it was my choice. You forced me.”

He tenses his jaw, looking anywhere but you. You shove him again with no chance of moving him. 

“Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know if you already forgot the five prior conversations we had, but if we didn’t bond today, my dad would have banished us both. I made sure that this wouldn’t happen”, he answers you snappishly.

“This still doesn’t give you the right to kiss me like this”, you throw back, shoving at his chest.

He doesn’t budge, taking your hands to stop you from shoving him again. His grip is strong and possessive, but doesn’t hurt. 

“The priest was gonna renounce our bond. I had to act fast”, he hisses.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be forced into it.”

“I know that by now”, Jungkook spits and swipes your hands away, turning a cold shoulder to you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest so tightly it looks as if he is trying to hug himself.

“I want an apology for it”, you insist.

“I’m sorry.” 

You falter for a moment, not having expected it. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Just. Drop it now, please.”

“Drop it? Excuse me?” 

Jungkook turns his head away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

No eye contact.

“Jungkook?” 

“I’m done talking to you”, he grumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you hurt me.”

You gawk at him, holding your breath. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with such urgency it feels as if he is trying to drown you in the connection.

“All this talk about not wanting me to hold back. You told me not to stop telling you that you’re mine. Was it just empty talk?” he asks.

His heartbroken scent makes you feel heavy in your chest. 

“What? I, I don’t- what?” you stutter.

“Did it ever mean something to you?” 

“Kook, I-”

“Don’t call me that”, he hisses and steps closer. The thing is, however, that you don’t feel the instinctive need to step back. He doesn’t feel dangerous to you. Not because he isn’t scary, because he definitely is, but because you know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt you. “Don’t call me that after what you did today.”

You gulp. He puts his hand over his heart, eyes showing how hurt he feels. His voice quivers as he speaks.

“You made me have my first knot ever. You, you made me feel so good that I bit you. You had your first knotting orgasm through me. I was fucking alive inside you”, he say and puts his other hand on your stomach where you once allowed him to feel himself in you. 

You gasp and tense at the touch, putting your hand over his’. His touch seeps into you, reminding you how it was to carry his warmth inside you. Everything inside you wants him within the first touch. The connection is so intense that you draw closer to him instinctively.

“I thought that it meant something to you too. So why did you hesitate?” he stresses, eyes racing between yours.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jungkook pulls his hand away from your stomach. “Wow, okay.”

“Kook, please.”

“Forget it. Let’s just get it over with”, he hisses and a second later, the curtains open and you have to pretend to be a happy couple.

He takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor while howls and claps cheer you on. He positions you and him in the middle of the dance floor, looking down at you with a tightened face. 

The music starts. So does the dance. 

Jungkook leads it, you follow. He holds you so close. He looks so deeply into your eyes. To anyone else it must seem as if he can’t get enough of his wife, but you are close enough to him that you know his true feelings. He wants this stupid dance to end as quickly as possible. 

You can’t bear to look up at him any longer, lowering your eyes.

“Don’t. Look up.” 

You obey instinctively.

“You’ve already fucked up the kiss, don’t fuck up the dance as well.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s already a little too late for that, isn’t it?” he says and leans you back as part of the dance. For just a second you see the world upside down before he lifts you again, holding you against his chest as he twirls over the dance floor with you. It makes your dress dance with you and blurs the world around you. He furrows his brows.

“Did it ever mean anything to you?” he asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no? It’s a simple answer.”

“I was desperate and I-”

“Wow.” 

“I, I just meant that I don’t know if it meant what it meant to you.”

“Stop talking, seriously.”

You gulp. Jungkook looks away. 

“You have to look at me”, you whisper panickedly.

“Don’t worry, the dance is already fucked”, Jungkook says and coincidentally enough, the music switches just this moment. The rest of the pack fills the dance floor, but you barely notice them.

Jungkook steps back and leaves you in the middle of the dance floor. Your chest feels tight. You didn’t want it to come to this. Of course it meant something to you, but he cornered you right now and you tend to say the wrong things under pressure. You didn’t want to give him a dishonest answer, but didn’t have the full answer ready yet. Oh god, this isn’t what you wanted to happen.

Sudden fear fills you. You know instantly that his father is next to you. You force yourself to look at him, holding your breath.

“Ruin this bond, you and your family can look for a new pack. Understood?”

You nod your head fearfully.

“Speak up!” 

“Yes! Understood!” 

“That’s better. Fucking, bratty omega. Just because my son can’t keep his dick in his pants. I’ll teach him how to discipline you, be sure of that”, he says with a deadly glare and turns his back to you, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor.

You bite back tears. 

Alcohol. You need to forget this night. Yes, that’s the solution.

Werewolf bonding parties aren’t that different from human wedding parties. There is good music, delicious food, lots of dancing and even more laughter. There is also, of course, the occasional friendly fighting between two wolves, which may seem scary to a human but is perfectly normal to your species. There is even a saying that if a bonding party doesn’t have friendly fighting, the bond will not last. A part of you had hoped that your party would be such a party just so it wouldn’t be you who ruins the marriage and therefore has to carry the alpha’s wrath. But your wish wasn’t granted the moment you watched Yoongi and Hoseok start a friendly wrestling march next to the margaritas bar.

Speaking of margaritas, you are drunk on them by now. Way too drunk, barely able to stand on two feet. 

“Fuck, I need air”, you get out and turn to leave. You run your eyes over the crowd. Your family is by their table, your brother follows you with his eyes. You must be way too drunk because for a second it felt as if he was hunting you with them. You break contact, spotting Jungkook next. He is talking to one of the betas, Seokjin. He also seems terribly drunk. You look away quickly, stumbling past him on your way outside. He follows you with his eyes as you do, but you are too drunk to notice.

The night is cold. A welcome change to the stuffy air inside. Tonight is a new moon. You look up at the moonless sky. Weddings under a new moon mean that they will last long. That’s what the legends say. The new life together starts with the new cycle of the moon. First the fighting, now this. Your marriage seriously wants to last, doesn’t it?

You stumble to a quiet corner, resting against the wall. The music is blurred behind a veil of alcohol and the thick walls of the venue.

The thing is, it’s not that you had to bond with Jungkook which upsets you so much. It is the fact that it had to happen under such circumstances. You are sure that if he didn’t have to mark you in order to save your life, he would have never even thought about taking you as a mate. You know how his family thinks. A wolf with the alpha gen should mate with another wolf with the alpha gen. Bonding with an omega isn’t a thing in Jungkook’s family. And this is what scares you. You are an omega in a family of alphas and his father seems to fucking hate it. What if Jungkook hates it too? He talked about keeping you safe and not wanting to let you go, but he probably didn’t think that he would have to mate with you. He was probably high on his afterglow and talked without thinking.

“Urgh”, you let out, grinding your fangs. 

But then, why was he so upset that you hesitated? Was it because he wanted to own you as quickly as possible? But he smelled heartbroken. Someone who is merely upset about not owning you wouldn’t smell like this. This is confusing you so much. 

“Who knew that you would be married before me.” 

You turn your head to your brother. You must be really drunk because his eyes still seem so different.

“It’s crazy to imagine that you came back and got bonded”, he says. 

“Only because you fucked up and I almost had to die for it. Otherwise, Jungkook would have never had to step in and I would have never had to bond with him”, you throw back.

Your brother studies you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I said that I’m sorry and I am. It was an accident. I thought that she was a deer.”

“Tch, sure. I know you were into her. I watched you sneak away sometimes to see her. You got jealous and decided to kill her because you couldn’t bear the thought that she was to be with someone else. Admit it”, you challenge him because you know that it was bullshit. Your brother would never kill someone out of jealousy. 

Something changes in your brother’s face, however. Your brother disappears, the face of an ice cold killer stares back at you. The face of a killer who killed before and who would do it again. He steps closer and you instinctively step back. Fear and the desire to flee overcomes you. It is difficult however when he has you cornered. It is a dark corner and there are no people around.

“What, what are you doing? You, you are scary”, you stutter.

“You know, you were never supposed to come back.”

“What?”

“If I were you, I’d be careful with your words from now on”, he warns, dragging the back of his hand down your face, “are we understood, sister?” 

You whimper instinctively, avoiding his eyes. His touch feels like sandpaper on your skin. He comes closer. You are so scared. 

“Are we under-”, he stumbles back as a strong hand tugs him away from you. It is so rough in fact that he squeaks against his will.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jungkook growls, stepping between you and your brother. He is huffing his air, torso stretching the fabric of his suit because his protectiveness is making his body grow. Your brother tries to take a step closer, but instantly stops with just one deep growl of Jungkook. 

Your brother looks at you for a brief moment. The person you once knew is gone from his eyes. 

“I was already leaving”, he presses out and turns his back to leave. He knows better than to pick a fight with Jungkook. He gets as far as one step before the latter pulls him back. 

He tries to fight him in reaction, but gives up quickly when Jungkook renders him useless with a strong grip on his chin. His claws dimple his skin, threatening to break through. He is towering over your brother by now. 

“You are the one who is going to start picking his words carefully from now on. She is under my protection now. Is that clear?”

“Is this supposed to scare me?”

“Don’t test me.” Jungkook hisses, shaking him by his chin. “I’ll let you go tonight because you’re her brother and I don’t wanna break her heart, but you threaten her again and you’re dead. Are we understood?” he snarls his words, eyes dangerously golden and sharp fangs on full display.

“Yes”, your brother croaks out.

“Speak up!” Jungkook barks, shaking him.

“Yes! I’m sorry, yes!” 

“Good. Now leave, you’re ruining my wife’s mood”, Jungkook growls and pushes him away. 

The man, who was once your brother, stumbles back and runs off with his tail tucked between his legs.

Jungkook stares him down until he truly left and only then, he turns to you. He puts his hands on your upper arms, touching you so gently one might never know how roughly he handled your brother seconds ago. His features are clouded over with worry. His body is smaller again and his muscles shrunk back to their relaxed size.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, studying you worriedly.

You shake your head, gasping for air in small, helpless breaths. 

“Hey, sshhh you’re okay now. You’re okay”, he says, hugging you against his chest. One hand is on your back, the other on the back of your head. The calming scent of him engulfs you, masking your own frightened scent.

“People need to stop threatening me tonight”, you get out, sobbing into him.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay”, he keeps repeating the words, placing little kisses all over the crown of your head.

The fight of earlier feels far away to both of you. Especially to him.

It wasn’t long after you stumbled past him, that he followed you outside. At first he followed you with the intent of confronting you again, but then he saw that you were talking to your brother and he stayed back. Because of his heightened senses, he heard everything of your conversation with him. He also smelled your fear even before hearing your whimper and it drove up his desire to protect you to such levels that he has to tremble now that he finally holds you safe and sound. 

“You’re okay. I’m here now. I’m here.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.

“This wasn’t my brother anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry”, he says, wiping your tears.

“He murdered her. Kook, he is a murderer.”

“I heard everything. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“He looked at me as if he wanted to kill me too.”

“I wouldn’t have let him. He’d have been dead if he tried.”

“Kook”, you get out and hide away in his chest.

You smell so sad and heartbroken and scared. Jungkook feels parts of his body cramp from how much he trembles. He wants to protect you more than he already does. It is driving him insane that he can’t do more for you.

“Jungkook, I wanna go home but I don’t…” Your sad scent reaches its peak as tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t even know where that is anymore”, you press out and sob. 

“Hey no, don’t cry. I’ll take you home”, Jungkook says and puts his arm around you to lead you away from the venue. You let your head fall against him, crying loudly because everything is just a lot for you. 

“Do we have to tell anyone? Can we just leave? What if they ask questions? I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t-”

“Hey, everything is gonna be okay. We’re the bridal couple, they’ll just have to accept the fact that we left early.”

You nod your head in understanding. You are so glad that he took control right now. You would have been lost and overwhelmed without him.

You walk home side by side. It happens for comfort reasons that, after a while, you and he stop hugging so close. You are in nothing but your dress and he is in nothing but his suit. The streets are empty and quiet because the entire pack is currently at your wedding party. 

You already walked long enough that you managed to calm down from the initial shock. It is an unspoken truth between you and him that you don’t want to talk about what happened. This means, however, that your walk is silent and that feels really awkward.

The town you grew up in hasn’t changed much ever since you were a child. The same trees still grow along the same streets, except that they are a lot taller these days. The same houses are still home to the same people and bonding nights are still held in the town’s sports hall. 

Said sports hall is still close to the playground and the way home still leads through it. 

You and Jungkook slow down as you walk down a metaphorical memory lane. You scraped your knee on the slide when you were eight and he had to blow on it to make it better. Jungkook sprained his ankle jumping off the swing when he was nine and you had to hold his hand as his mother rubbed it better again. Under the weeping willow, you and your friends played the silly little dares and you had your first kiss with him. 

You look away from the tree, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. He looked at it as well. You turn your head away, feeling your throat tighten in panic. Jungkook feels his heart twist in reaction. The better voice in him says not to dwell on it, the love drunk idiot in him tells him to fight for it. He wins in the end. 

“Wanna sit on the swings?” he suggests.

“And do what?” 

“I don’t know. Swing? Sober up a little?”

You contemplate for a second, nodding your head in the end. 

You weren’t even aware of how much you needed to sit until you are on the swing, stretching out your legs. You hate heels. They’re the worst shoes ever invented. You swing back and forth slowly, Jungkook does the same. This is still the same swing set you and he played on twenty years ago. The chains still leave this weird metallic smell on your hands and the rusty hinges seem to creak even more these days. You look up at the sky. The stars are so clear without the moon hiding them in her shine. You know this view all too well. In your left vision there are some branches of a maple tree and in the right a electrical pole is peaking at you. The view is familiar to you because twenty years ago, you and Jungkook sat at the same swing in the same order like you do today. 

You dare to glance at him. He is looking at the sky, unaware of your eyes on him. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted in awe of the vast universe. His eyes are the darkest brown right now, reflecting the stars. The street lights behind him illuminate the edges of his silhouette, glimmering in parts of his dark hair as well. He is so beautiful when he thinks that no one is looking. 

To think that you subconsciously chose the same swing even after all these years. He broke your heart like this fifteen years ago and now you are back, bonded. Your heart feels heavy. You shouldn’t have hesitated. You don’t know how Jungkook feels about this bond, but you get a feeling that you shouldn’t have hesitated. 

A gust of wind sweeps through the playground and makes you shiver. Your teeth clatter and you wrap your arms around yourself to rub your freezing skin. He looks at you, studying you.

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t planning on being outside for so long. I only wanted to catch some air for a bit. I’m kinda drunk.”

Jungkook stands up from his swing.

You watch him, confused.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and closes the distance to put it over your shoulders. It is warmed up from him, instantly stilling your shivers. It also smells like him, making you just a little droopy. He hovers his hands over your shoulders because he doesn’t know if you want his touch, talking in a soft voice. 

“Is this better?” 

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, feeling your heart race. 

“Good. Keep it. I’m too hot anyway”, he says and leaves your side to sit down next to you.

He swings back and forth gently, watching some leaves dance on the ground as the wind carries them. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk, but he feels mute. He doesn’t want to fuck it up. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to get hurt again. 

He dances his eyes over the playground, reminiscing on all the memories he shares with you here. You and he could have been so right and then his father fucked him up. Jungkook forces down the heavy lump in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks at you with widened eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m an omega. I can smell when people around me are upset.”

“Ah. I don’t know. I guess, just thinking of old stuff”, he says and rubs the side of his neck. 

“Yeah. Lots of memories here”, you say and sigh.

Jungkook sees it as his cue to ask you what he had planned to ask you before he witnessed you with your brother instead. 

���Why did you hesitate?”

You almost fall off the swing in shock. Jungkook takes your hand, providing you with support. He feels vast of air when you instinctively squeeze him back and intertwine your fingers deeper. There they are again. Those mixed signals. You say one thing, but do the other. You do another thing, but say the complete opposite. Jungkook can barely take the confusion anymore, repeating his question again. 

“I get it that you were nervous, but it looked like you didn’t want to kiss me at all. Why?”

“I just…”, you pull your hand back, swinging gently to soothe yourself.

Jungkook swings as well, looking at you. 

“All of this is a lot for me. I went from a normal woman to a sex slave by a snatch to an omega marked, to a wife in the span of two weeks. This is a lot to work through.”

“Yeah, when you put it like this, it really is.”

“I didn’t think that our little stunt in the shed would lead to this.”

“Yeah honestly, neither did I. I thought that they would want us to date for a little and that’s it.”

“Yeah”, you agree and glance at him. “I’m scared that you are only doing this because your dad forced you. That’s why I hesitated. I saw the way he looked at me.”

“Don’t think about him. He is old and unhappy. He didn’t force me. Not when I…I dreamt of having you as my wife ever since I’ve known you.”

“What?”

You stop swinging. Jungkook stops as well, turning with the swing to face you.

“I think that’s why I kissed you. The priest wanted to announce that it’s invalid and I panicked and went in. I just needed to know that this wouldn’t be lost forever.”

“Oh my god, you dreamed of bonding with me?” you press out, eyes full of emotions.

“Ever since I’ve known you. Well, you know, ever since I knew what bonding meant. I always wanted it to be with you.”

“Kook…”

He rests his head against the metal chain, reaching his hands out for you. You turn with your swing and take his hands, feeling your pulse in your neck because of how high he raises it. His thumbs draw hearts on your skin, his eyes are so soft.

“Yeah, I guess it’s out there now”, he says, laughing softly.

“It is”, you whisper and squeeze his hands.

Jungkook squeezes them right back, smiling with his eyes before it washes over his lips as well. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this on the same swing set you best friend broke up with me when we were twelve.” 

He laughs, lifting his brows for it. It’s such a cute laugh, making you laugh with him. 

“Correction, where I was forced to best friend break up with you ‘cause my dad is a control freak.” 

“Right. I’m sorry that your dad sucks.” 

"Yeah, I guess I got used to it. He’s my dad, that’s how he is.” 

“I’m still sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook says and lets go of your hands to twirl back to the front. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“If I remember correctly, you always loved the swing the most.” 

“I did, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

He walks behind you and puts his hands on the chain of the swing. 

“Hold on tight.” 

“Huh? Oh!” 

He pushes you, making you swing back and forth. You squeal, having to laugh afterwards. Jungkook snickers with you, pushing you a second time to make you swing higher. Your shared laughter dances through the playground and in this short moment in life’s series of moments, you and he feel like kids again. There are no responsibilities lingering in the back of your heads, no fears of the future, no stresses of past days nor dreams ruined by reality. You and he are twelve again, using the swings after a long day of playing adventurers in the forests. The stars shine brighter and the wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore. You are alive again, flying to the very stars with each push Jungkook gives you. 

“Not too high please, I’ll get scared”, you squeal, feeling tears of laughter run down your cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you too high. I never did, remember?” 

You and he talk as he continues to push you on the swing. 

“If I remember correctly, you sometimes pushed me way too high because you were a gremlin like that.”

“A gremlin? Wow, okay”, he laughs and pushes you extra hard as playful revenge.

“Hey! No, it’s too high!” you squeak, laughing way too much.

Jungkook does it again.

“Kook please! I’m gonna fall, ah!” 

And it happens. Your drunk ass falls off the swing. You squeal, preparing for impact which never comes. Instead he catches you in his strong arms, looking down at you with protective, caring eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, watching his lips move. You giggle, dropping your head on his shoulder, “fuck, I’m too clumsy for this.” 

“Hah, yeah.”

Jungkook noticed that you looked at his lips. For just a second, he wanted to kiss you. In the end, he didn’t. He won’t ever kiss you again without your consent. 

He sets you down gently, holding both your hands against his chest. You look up at him, feeling a little robbed of air. His eyes race between yours as if he trying to build connection between your souls with just one look.

“I promise to be a good husband to you. No harm shall ever come to you through my hands and if I should ever break this promise, it is your right to strike me down. You have my body as protection and my heart to find a home in, ___. You always have and you always will.”

“You keep saying that. Does it mean..?”

“It does. It means that I love you and that I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He exhales shakily. “I know that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry again that I kissed you. Please, can you forgive-” 

You put your finger on his lips, silencing him. He whimpers a little because of it.

“Can I say something now? Please?” 

“Of course”, he says and steps back, fumbling with his own hands nervously. 

“I’m not mad at you anymore that you kissed me. I, I was planning to kiss you, I was. I just, I saw your dad and he wasn’t howling and then I thought that we’re only in this situation because you had to save me. And I panicked and I was scared that we’d regret it and yeah.” 

He nods his head in understanding, lowering his eyes sadly. You take his hand.

“It meant something to me too.” 

He meets your emotional eyes, feeling emotional himself.

“It meant something to me, maybe not the same as it did to you but it did mean something to me. I wanted to tell you this, but didn’t know how. I get nervous when I’m cornered and I forget my words and then say dumb stuff.”

“I get it. I’m sorry that I cornered you. I guess I have the tendency to be pushy when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have cornered you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, I should have said something. I liked what we did in the shed and it meant something to me.” You put his hand on your stomach. “You were alive inside me and it was the best feeling I ever experienced.”

Jungkook sighs your name, instinctively drawing closer to you.

“But we also barely know each other as adults. What if we realize that we’re not right as mates once we get to know each other?” 

“I don’t think that will happen. I’m still the same than I was before, just older.” 

“You’re an alpha these days.”

“I am and I’ll use this status to provide for you and to keep you safe. I promise.” 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at him with those same puppy eyes you had in the shed. 

Jungkook feels weak in the knees. Those eyes are lethal to him.

“Yes, really. All I want is someone to provide for, someone to care for and protect. And for that someone to be you. I just. I wanna keep you safe, ___”, he says.

“Oh”, you let out and exhales shakily.

“Mhm, yeah”, he breathes and brushes the back of his fingers down your temple.

“But”, you begin.

“Yes?”

“But not too much. I don’t want you to get hurt”, you say and trace his upper lip. The cut healed by now, but the memory of how it looked is still in your mind. Jungkook chases your touch, closing his fingers around your wrists. He holds you tenderly, tracing the spots most sensitive with his thumbs. 

“Alright, not too much”, he whispers, smiling softly. 

You share silence, looking at the other. Jungkook is the one to break it. 

“We’ll get to know each other again and it’s gonna be nice. I want to make this work”, he whispers.

“I wanna make it work too. Not for the sake of my safety or anything, but because I wanna love you too.” 

“You do?” 

You nod your head.

Jungkook exhales shakily, closing the distance for a kiss. He stops just a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You give him your answer by erasing the remaining distance, connecting your lips with his’. His knees buckle, his arms instantly fall around you to hold you close. The world around you seems non-existent as your lips are lost in the kind of kiss a bonded couple should exchange. It is epic. Jungkook feels so alive. He knows that if he tried hard enough, he could touch the stars. 

You feel the same. This kiss is your reminder that whatever you and he have is out of your control. It is a bond made by fate, formed under a new moon. This is how you felt in the shed when he was alive inside you. 

Those feelings are heightened because of the alcohol, forcing you closer to him. Which makes him lose control for just a second, ending in you pressed up against the swing set post and with his hand on your lower back. 

It knocks out a soft moan from you. Jungkook answers it in a deep purr, sliding his right hand to your cheek to tilt your head higher. He sucks on your lower lip, ending it with a gentle bite.

The effect is instant for you. Slick begins to gather between your legs, your head gets droopy and everything inside you screams at you to give yourself to him.

Breathing shakily, you break the kiss. He stays close, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, tracing your own lips. They’re tingling from what he did.

“Yeah. Right?” he agrees, scrunching his nose and stubbing your temple with his forehead in a gesture of adoration. “Who’d have known that we’d kiss like this here”, he says, gazing at you.

Your eyes soften in submission. Jungkook feels drawn to you beyond repair.

“Keep looking at me with those eyes and we won’t reach home tonight”, he rasps, touching your waist as he basically undresses you with his eyes. “I’d take you right here and now. Make you feel so good that you see new constellations.”

Drunk you cannot handle talk like this, breaking into giddy giggles and hiding away in his chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he gasps.

“No, oh god no. It’s just, nobody ever talked to me like this before”, you explain yourself between giggles, nuzzling closer.

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing your back. 

“Get used to it. I realised that I’m kinda outta control when it comes to you. Maybe it’s the alpha gen.”

“Maybe”, you look up at him with pretty puppy eyes, arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting against his chest. 

He stubs your nose with his own, hands groping your butt possessively. 

“Stop looking at me.”

“It’s hard. When you touch me, I also lose control. I think it’s the omega gen.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.”

“Hah! So you’re saying I’m just drunk?”

“Basically, yeah.”

You snicker, Jungkook grins.

“Come on, let’s go home before I actually do something indecent to you.”

You gladly let him hold your hand now that his kiss triggered your affectionate instincts, following him in happy steps.

Your walk home ends at Jungkook’s house. Two stories high and with a big garden surrounding it, it was one of the more luxurious houses in town. 

“This is where we’ll live?” 

“If you want to. I figured, you know, given how you still live with your parents and I’m living alone, we could use my place. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” 

“Yes? Great then we can get your stuff in the coming days. But for now, let me do this right”, he says and swoops you off your feet.

“Ah”, you let out, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “What are you doing?” 

“Carrying you over the threshold. Why?” 

“Nothing, it’s so”, you stop talking to giggle instead, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. “It’s so cheesy.”

Jungkook chuckles, heart racing in his chest. He kicks the door closed behind him and does a twirl in the middle of his hallway. 

“Wait! I’m too drunk for this! Eeek”, you squeak, hiding away in his neck. “Please stop, I’m too dizzy.”

Luckily for you, Jungkook listens. He stops and sets you down, holding you close as you sway. 

“This wasn’t funny. Oh god, I’m dizzy”, you laugh, dropping your forehead against his chest. He rests his cheek against your head, talking in a chuckle.

“See? Told you. Total lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. You’re just a gremlin”, you say and shove at his chest. He laughs, holding your hands.

“You’re adorable. Come, dance with me”, he says, placing your left hand on his neck and holding the other.

“Dance? Right now?”

“Yeah. Just you and I. We’ll do it right this time.”

“But I’m dizzy.” You step on his foot, making him groan. “And I have two left feet when drunk. Sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay”, he says, smiling at you as your bodies move to silent melodies.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, baby. Just look at me”, he whispers, right hand on your lower back. It is so warm. 

You look up at him. The pull is magnetic and fucking electric. You are so attracted to him. He has you feeling drunker than any amount of alcohol ever could. You are so fuzzy inside because of all the laughing you have been doing. 

“You have the most beautiful eyes ever”, Jungkook whispers, raising your pulse with it.

“Kook, I”, you begin, eyes flitting to his lips. Merely seeing the shape of them is enough to reignite the flames in your stomach. Dancing becomes a little harder now that you are so excited.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers.

“It’s embarrassing”, you confess with a heated face.

“Tell me.” 

“No, it’s so stupid. I don’t even wanna do it but it just happens.” 

He guides his touch from your lower back to your waist. Gentle and loving but insanely possessive at the same time. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You hesitate.

“Promise.”

“I’m, uh, there is slick.” 

Jungkook draws closer, making you chase his kiss. 

“Shit. There is?” 

“Yeah”, you whimper.

He lowers his eyes, making you taste the idea of his kiss. It makes you so desperate for him.

“Is this normal for you or….” 

You shake your head, “it never happened before. Not like this. Or that easily. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I can’t stop it.”

“Holy fuck. Baby.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Just kiss me.” 

You kiss him. At least you try to because before your lips can touch, you step on his toes again. Vigorously.

“Ouch, hey”, he gasps, flinching back.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry. Are you okay?" 

“Ah fuck”, he laughs, “yeah, I’m okay. You’re a terrible dancer.”

“Hey”, you pout. 

He chuckles and pecks your cheek.

“I want to show you one thing before we make it official”, he says.

“Show me, please.”

“Follow me. You can leave your shoes by the door.”

Jungkook’s home is somehow exactly how you imagined it to be. It is neat and tidy, but doesn’t really have a lot of character. The rooms are spacious with little furniture filling them. The furniture is modern and there are barely any decorations present. It is the house of someone who doesn’t feel at home in it. The desire to make it cozy and homey for him becomes stronger and stronger within you. There are already a million ideas swarming your head.

“You’re quiet. Do you not like it here?” Jungkook asks you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m thinking.”

"About what?”

“It’s gonna sound silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I already have so many ideas on how to make it cozier here. Sorry, I know it’s your house and everything.”

Jungkook steps close and cradles your face, making you look up at him.

“And it’s your home. Make it as cozy as you want to”, he speaks softly, eyes warm and caring.

“Really?” 

He nods, kissing your forehead.

“This place never felt like a home to me anyway. It can use the caring touch of an omega.” 

You can’t explain how he makes you feel because you never experienced it before. The best way to describe it is cozy and safe. You want to curl up close to him and be yourself with him. This is how he makes you feel. As if you are allowed to be your truest You. 

“Speaking of cozy omegas, we’re here.”

“Here where?”

“My surprise for you. I worked hard on it these past few days.”

He opens the door for you, allowing you view of one of the coziest rooms you have ever seen. It is filled with soft surfaces to lie on. A bed, a big sofa, some bean bags, a window bench. Curtains frame the window and the bed. The floor is covered in soft rugs. There are pillows to sink into on every surface and he installed fairy lights on the wall and the bed frame. 

“What’s this?” you gasp.

“It’s your nest.” 

You look at him. He is clearly nervous, smelling of it as well.

“I’m still new to the entire omega heat thing. I know that they’re a thing, obviously, and I know that you like to get cozy for them. I looked up nest inspirations online. It told me that you like lots of pillows and blankets and that I should make it cozy and warm. You can totally change everything in this room, of course.” He touches the side of his neck. “I just thought that I’d try to make it comfortable for you. At least maybe? I don’t know, I just wanna make it nice for you.” 

Your lower lip trembles.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna make you cry. Is it that bad? I’m sorry, I suck at interior design.”

You shake your head and fall around his neck, “thank you.” 

Jungkook closes his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You smell of happiness right now. 

“Does this mean you like it?” he asks.

“I love it so much. I never had a nest before. I’m so happy.” 

“You are?”

“Yes, so much.”

You step back, giving him a smile. Jungkook retorts it. You giggle and turn so you can hurry through the room.

Jungkook watches you, enjoying the droopy feelings in his chest. The longer you are in the room and the more details you spot, the stronger your scent of happiness gets. It almost fills up the entire room by now, making him feel so warm and complete. He feels at home in his house for the very first time.

“This is so cozy, oh my god. So soft, wow. I love this colour, holy moly. Wow. So cozy. Wow”, you gush and gasp as you inspect everything and anything. 

You end up dropping into one of the beanbags, nuzzling into it as deep as possible while you purr in contentment. 

Jungkook feels his knees buckle. He got you to purr. Holy fuck, he was seriously placed on this earth to treat you right. 

He closes the distance between you and him, kneeling down in front of you. He comes closer, putting his weight on his elbow which he rests on the beanbag above your head. He leans down to kiss your cheek. 

You stop your nuzzling, gasping quietly as his sudden closeness surprises you. You look up and can’t look away again.

“You’re the most beautiful bride I have ever seen”, he whispers, cradling your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh”, you let out, feeling dizzy. 

“No wonder I had to kiss you.” He furrows his brows. “I know I shouldn’t have done this and I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not angry anymore. You built me a nest”, you tear up, “Jungkook, please give me my bonding night. I want to be with you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“So sure, please. I can’t take it anymore.” You shiver. “I keep producing slick and I’m so cold without you and, and I wanna feel that good again. Like we did in the shed. I, I wanna feel like this again. Please.”

Jungkook closes his fist on the beanbag, trying to keep himself at bay. His instincts threaten to kick in when you beg like this.

“Do you want it here?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you know what I’ll do to you? What might happen again?”

You deepen the lethalness of your puppy eyes, taking his hand to put it over your stomach. You whisper your words, turning him into puddy.

“I want to feel alive again. Together with you.” 

“Holy fuck, ___”, Jungkook croaks and goes in for a kiss. He growls and stops himself. “I need you to say that you understand. Please, don’t make me do it without hearing it first.”

“Yes, Kook. I know what you’ll do to me. I need you to, please.” 

“Thank you. Oh my god baby, I wanna treat you so right”, he croaks out and finally falls into the kiss. “I’ll never ever force myself onto you again. Never. Fucking never. Holy fuck, baby”, he babbles between kisses, turning you into a weak, turned on mess. “Wanna treat you so right. My baby. Mine.” 

His touch is everywhere at the same time, unable to decide where to find its home. It feels so good. Each spot he touches, tingles and heats up. Whenever he changes spots, it leaves behind shivers and goosebumps before the entire process repeats itself again.

You want to keep kissing him, but soon have to stop because of his touch. You have to gasp for air, you would suffocate otherwise. 

Jungkook, barely holding onto the threat of humanity by now, doesn’t see any problem in being denied your lips. He kisses a path to your neck hungrily. Your aroused smell becomes stronger and stronger the closer he gets to your scent glands. He knows how good it feels when someone kisses his scent spots and he wonders if it is the same for you. 

He kisses the spot on your left side, forcing you to arch your back and gasp loudly. You instinctively grasp his back.

“Do you like this?” he rasps his words, nibbling on the sensitive spot. You smell so good. Jungkook has never felt such an obsession with another’s scent before. He needs it all over his body, melted with his skin so everyone can smell who his heart belongs to. He can’t stop kissing you, picking up more and more of your scent.

“Does this feel good?” he asks again because you were too busy gasping the first time.

“Ye-yeah”, you gasp out, staring at the ceiling in shock. Your fingers twitch and tremble on his back, claws threatening to come out and slice open his shirt. 

What is happening to you? You were kissed on your neck before, but this feels different. This feels lethal, fateful, like it is changing the way you view pleasure. You have never felt so electric before and so close to losing control. 

“You smell so good, I can’t get enough.”

“Wow, oh god, wow…”

Jungkook stays on your left side until he can smell your arousal on his lips. Only then, does he kiss a sloppy path to your right side. He moans when he witnesses you roll your head to the side willingly and he moans again when he goes in to worship your hard working scent spot. And it is working hard. Fucking hell, you smell like pure sex and arousal. Jungkook huffs it up hungrily, biting and licking at the delicious spot. 

All while you stare and gasp and lose control over yourself. The bites feel so good. You want to squirm and moan. Your head is fuzzy, your body so weakened. What is happening? What the fuck is happening to you? You can’t stop producing more slick. You are so hot. Seriously, so fucking hot. Oh god, you can’t think anymore. Anything you can think is how much you need him to fuck you. 

“Seriously, fuck”, Jungkook comes up for air, mouthing at your cheek drunkenly, “you smell so good. I feel high.”

“I wanna be naked”, you croak out, arching your back. You don’t have many thoughts except desire and sex. Being naked is all you crave right now. If you’re naked, Jungkook can potentially bite more parts of you. This is the logic of your fuzzy mind and it is driving you crazy that it isn’t your reality yet.

“Sit up then and let me open your dress.”

You obey gladly, almost dry heaving in desire. Jungkook reaches behind you and opens your dress. He wanted to pull it off slowly to make the moment romantic, but you shrug it off quickly for him. 

He meets your eyes. They are golden and clouded in desire.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

“Why not?”

“I never saw you naked before.” 

“Oh.” A little clarity returns to your eyes. “Right.”

He can smell hints of coyness in your scent. And a little bit of nervousness. 

“Wrap your arms around me.”

You obey his order and like this, Jungkook is able to lift you out of your dress and carry you to bed. He lays you down carefully, straddling your lap without sitting down. 

You are below him in nothing but your underwear, feeling small and fragile, but so safe. 

“Do you wanna take it slower?” he suggests.

“No, just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. We can slow down whenever you need to.”

“Okay”, you whisper and make puppy eyes at him, “can you, uhm, can you bite me more?” 

“Yes. Wow this is…hah. Of course”, he lets out, “first, let me match you.” 

He is getting undressed. First his tie, then he opens his buttons. His shirt leaves him first, next his belt and last his slacks. He stays in his briefs, heavy cock straining the fabric as much as he soaks it. 

Now sharing in your state of undress, he leans down, taking your hands to pin them gently. He kisses you, blurring your thoughts into one big mess of arousal and safety. His thumbs caress your hands as he kisses you. Your scent is on his face, forcing even more slick to run out of you. Any sort of nervousness you felt is getting wiped out with each new kiss you share. He tastes so goddamn good. His lips are soft and the piercings on them are so exciting to feel.

The kiss breaks when air is sparse. Jungkook stays close to paint paths of worship down your body. He bites the softest spots and sucks marks of ownership on the firmer spots. And you are in heaven, wishing for him to never stop. Such heavenly feelings are unfamiliar to you. You had people mark you before, but it didn’t feel like this. With Jungkook, you need him to continue. You need to know that every single inch of you is marked by him in one way or the other. Whether it be a bite mark, a kiss spot or his scent, you need it on your body and each time he gives it to you, you leak more slick. It is out of your control, unfamiliar and amazing. So amazing. 

Jungkook is lingering over your sternum right now, hot breath tickling your skin. His strong hands are holding you under your armpits, reminding you that you were owned by the safest lover. 

“I know it’s difficult for you, but please stop me if I go too fast. I can’t stop myself once I let go, so I need you to yell it at me.” 

“Please. Don’t stop. Please, you feel so good”, you sigh, writhing.

“Wow, I….fuck, I want you”, he rasps, having to kiss every inch of you. “I want you. I want you so bad.” 

“Ah…please…don’t stop…”

Jungkook reaches your breasts. They are swollen and plumb from arousal. They aren’t always like this. When you are feeling normal, they also look and feel normal. They are how breasts are supposed to be, sagging from gravity and soft when lying down. Not right now. They stay in place. They are a little bigger, plumber and hot to the touch. They also smell like your arousal. Even through the fabric of your bra. It is so much sweeter and richer than it was on your neck. Jungkook moans like a druggy having found his drug, going in for a taste with an open mouth and way too much tongue. 

“Ah”, you whimper, following it up with a submissive mewl. You are losing control again and it feels so good. Why does everything he does feel so good? It is as if you are a virgin being touched for the very first time, which is insane because you definitely aren’t. 

“Your skin’s so soft and warm. I can’t get enough of you”, he mumbles between his hungry kisses, turning you into puddy. You lost sense of how much more you can still take before you burst. 

His masculine, possessive hands hold your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh desperately. His spit soaks the fabric of your bra, leaving behind spots of coldness whenever he moves on to a new spot.

It happens again. You experience sensations you have never felt before. People played with your tits before, you played with them as well but it never felt like this. It never felt so otherworldly. They are so swollen. You can’t breathe because there is so much pressure building up behind your nipples. You throw your hand over your mouth to muffle the overwhelmed sob, twisting the sheets with your other hand. It hurts. The pressure really hurts not to be taken care of.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear your panicked whimper because he doesn’t slow down in his feast. 

“Your scent, I’m so high. It’s insane, holy fuck, so good…” 

It gets too much for you. The pressure hurts so much. You’re scared. What is happening to you? 

Jungkook squeezes your breasts and bites down gently. The pressure bursts. You wail, arching your back as warmth trickles out of your nipples, soaking your bra. 

The sweet scent of it hits his nose instantly. He tenses up and shudders, cock threatening to burst through his briefs.

“What the-”

Jungkook’s instincts tell him to rip your bra off and lick up the sweet scent, but he forces himself to be stronger than them. It is you who lies below him in such a vulnerable state. If he took advantage of that, he would never forgive himself. 

“Jungkook, help me. Please. I’m scared”, you beg him in a quivering voice. 

“Try to focus on me. Focus baby, right here”, he tells you, cradling your cheeks.

Your eyes search aimlessly for a moment, but soon find their home in his gaze. 

“Koo”, you whimper, grabbing his wrists, “I’m scared. What is happening to me?”

“I don’t know. It never happened to me before. My instincts tell me to clean it for you, but I don’t know if you want this.”

“Please, it hurts. Just make it stop, please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, please”, you sob. 

“Sit up.”

You barely manage to obey. Jungkook supports you, using his other hand to open your bra and tug it off of you. He throws it to the side, helping you lie down again. 

Your breasts, normally victims to gravity, stay plumb and perky as you lie down. It is yet another proof that whatever he is doing to you is working beyond comprehension.

“Holy fuck, ___, your tits”, Jungkook gets out, gawking at them in total awe. They are seriously so swollen, your nipples are so hard and they seem to keep leaking pearlescent liquid. “You’re so beautiful, but holy fuck they’re so swollen. Baby, wow.,”

“I don’t know what’s happening. They’re so… so…there’s so much pressure.”

“I can’t. Oh god.”

If only you and he knew that this is happening to you because he stimulated your scent glands. If only you knew that simulation of said glands only works this well with your true mate. You could have a hundred other men play with your tits the same way Jungkook did, but your body would never fall into such helplessness with any of them. Only he will get you to such levels of pleasure. Because it is only his mouth which is destined to taste your sweet pleasure.

You and he are unaware of this fact however, because this is still new to both of you. 

“What, what do you need me to do?” He stutters, salivating.

“I don’t know. Your instincts, I don’t- ah.”

“Right.” His eyes glow golden. “My instincts”, he growls and gives in to the voices. “Stay still, I’ll take care of it.”

He picks up your tits and squeezes them together so your nipples are close to each other. He lowers his dripping mouth to them, taking in your right first but with the intention that your left will follow very soon. 

His instincts tell him to stimulate your nipples with soft bites first until they are throbbing and then change to sucking them. He listens to his instincts, getting you to moan so loudly that his cock throbs painfully.

“Is this working, baby?” he asks, drooling all over your sweet nipples.

“Oh god, yeah”, you croak, arching your back. You twist the sheets, curling your toes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Koo thank you…”

“Fuuuck baby, so hot”, he drags out his words until it turns into a growl instead, loving you oh so right.

He bites and bites, licks whenever you sob and bites some more, all while his strong fingers knead your plumpness. And then it happens. You arch your back and wail up as his stimulation finally forces your breasts to tighten and throb. Liquid shoots into his mouth and down his throat. It is the sweetest taste he ever had on his tongue, intoxicating him beyond saving. Jungkook’s eyes roll back, he thinks that for a second he blacks out before he comes back to be totally guided by his instincts. 

He gurgles and moans, sucking the sweet nectar from your right nipple while his fingers play with your left just to keep it ready for him. It is a messy business and whenever he changes sides, he has to lick up the mess he made before he can suck on your nipple. It is not a terrible fate. On the contrary, it’s heaven. For both. Jungkook has never felt this high before while you love his tongue on your body. He is so hot and soft, giving you the perfect contrast to the sharp bites his fangs give you.

“Kook oh god, Kook ah! Ah! A-ah!” 

You spill tears, grabbing your own face to muffle yourself and make sense of what is happening to you. This is life altering. You are in a constant state of genuine orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t want to die down. You can literally feel how Jungkook sucks the liquid out of you, relieving you of the painful pressure as he does it. It helps so much, while at the same time making everything worse.

He might help you with the nectar of your breasts, but your body still keeps producing slick. And it is getting dangerously full inside you. Your panties feel like imprisonment to your cunt. 

You twist a bundle of his hair, sobbing in ecstasy and desperation.

“Koo, I’m scared, it’s so good”, you sob, trembling. 

Your touch motivates him. He is starving for you even though he is currently feasting on you. He seemed to have sucked you dry. No matter how much he bites and sucks, your nipples stay dry. The starvation remains. He needs more of you. 

“More, give me more please”, he orders, growling his words between vigorous sucks.

“I, I can’t. Ah, Kook ah.” 

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re so sweet.”

He can’t take a break, he needs more of you. He lets your scent guide him. It gets stronger and stronger, the closer he comes to your cunt. Don’t be mistaken however, it is not your pussy which calls him, but your inner thighs. Your scent glands to be more specific. Working overtime to produce your arousing smell and begging for attention. They are the most sensitive of your scent spots, but you don’t know that yet. You had men kiss you there before, but none of them were Jungkook. None were your mate. 

Jungkook shoves your legs open and buries his face in your right thigh with a growl. His fingers dimple your softness, his fangs tickle your skin. Not long and he bites you. 

Your entire body reacts to it. You tense and flinch as if he shocked you, letting out a howl of surprise. Your empty cunt aches, craving nothing more than him.

Jungkook lifts his head, eyes droopy and drugged and lips still glossy from your tits.

“Is like a drug. You is like a drug”, he lulls his words and drops his face back in your thigh. Your left one for a change. He kisses and licks it, grabbing your waist possessively. He holds you with such strength that he even manages to bring it in a little, forcing you to burn in a fire you were never in before.

“I fucking want you, fucking need you, fuck can’t get enough.”

“I’m so hot, I-I’m so hot.”

“So hot, so fucking soft. Fuck, your smell drives me insane.” 

“Oh god, Kook. I’m so hot.” 

The thing about omegas and heats is that it isn’t as common as one might think. Before an omega has reached maturity, heats obviously aren’t a thing. Afterwards, they are manageable when living with other family members. They feel more as if you were bad mooded and grumpy. You managed to sleep them off whenever they happened.

Burning in this unfamiliar fire as Jungkook repeatedly bites your sensitive scent spots makes you realize that perhaps you have never truly experienced a real heat before. Maybe it slumbers in an omega until they are with their true mate. Maybe the grumpy days are just nature’s way of saving the omega of embarrassing moments in front of family.

You can’t explain why you know, but this is it. This is the real deal. Jungkook stimulated your sensitive glands for long enough that he forces you to go into heat. It feels different from anything you have ever experienced, it even feels different from the thing you thought to be your heat when he was with you in the shed. You were wrong back then, this is it. This is the real thing.

And it scares you so much that you beg for him. He comes up when hearing your distraught, cradling your face. He is clearly far away, seeming changed as well. The only thing having forced him away from you is his stronger instinct of keeping you safe. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are foggy.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he lulls his words. 

“I’m, I’m in heat.”

“What? It can happen like this?”

“When you bit my scent spots, it made me…oh god, please make it stop please.” 

“What, uhm, what do you need?”

“You. Please fuck me. I beg you.”

“Holy fuck, I-” Jungkook stops himself, growling deeply and twisting the pillow above your head, “something’s wrong with me. I’m losing control over myself.”

“Koo”, you croak, touching his chest. He is burning up, muscles swollen and tense. His heart races like crazy, unnaturally fast at that.

“What is happening to me?” he stresses.

“I don’t know.”

If only you and he knew that his accidental efforts of forcing you into heat, forced him into his ruts with you. If only you knew that these are the effects of being with your true mate. If only you knew that the only remedy is sex. But you don’t know and so you and he are fated to stumble through the unknown, still doing the right things because your instincts are stronger than anything else. It is as if your bodies do the talking without you and him having to speak their language yet. It is most certain that you will be fluent in it one day.

“I want to rip your panties off.”

"Please do.” 

Jungkook gives in and does as he wants. He rips your panties off, throwing the thin piece of fabric over his shoulder. He rips off his own briefs next, discarding the fabric. His heavy, thick cock slaps your stomach. He is so big and swollen by now that he can barely stand up despite his hardened nature. His slick pools in your navel and smears all over your skin. 

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, he drops his head in your neck, “it hurt so much to keep it in.”

“Kook, you’re so heavy.”

“I know, I’m so hard that I can’t keep it standing. I…” He lifts his head, cradling your cheek. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.” 

Jungkook shifts his hips so his cock probes at your entrance. You whimper and open your legs widely, putting them around his meaty thighs.

“Just the tip”, he whispers.

“What? No”, you get out and pout.

Jungkook chuckles, cradling your cheek.

“You know, like last time.”

“Oh”, a giggle shakes you and makes your face glow.

He chuckles, soaking up the moment of honest happiness like a dried up sponge would water. Each time he hears your laugh, he falls more in love with you.  

“Just the tip when it didn’t mean anything and we shouldn’t have done it.”

Your giggle changes into a sigh of his name. You gaze into his eyes, building soul consuming connection.

“Right?”

“Right.”

Jungkook allows his tip to fill you. Just enough to let you feel that he was finally there with you. You whimper, spilling tears of relief.

Jungkook wipes them, spilling his own tears. He loves you. This is it. The moment it is official that you are mates. And it happens exactly how he always dreamed it would. You under him, looking so vulnerable and safe as he can gaze into your eyes and see your face change in pleasure. 

“This means everything to me”, he croaks out and buries himself inside you to the base. “Ah.” He twists the pillow.

“Oh god. Ah.”

“Too deep? Hurts?”

“No, it’s perfect. I feel, ah, I feel whole.” 

Jungkook moans your name, eyes filling with emotion.

You touch his messy hair, scratching him behind his ear. Jungkook shivers, eyes threatening to roll back. You are stimulating one of his scent spots, forcing him deeper into his ruts.

“Okay. If you. Fuck. This is my scent spot. It feels. Ahm. I, I have to fuck you”, he struggles with his words, cock throbbing inside you as if it had his own pulse. 

Throb. Throb. Throb.

He fills you with more of his slick each time he twitches. It tingles whenever he does.

“Please don’t hold back. Fuck me like you need to, please”, you whimper, shaking in agony. You tickle his scent spot especially good and it’s over for him.

Jungkook’s fingers slip from control. He can’t hold back anymore. He knows that you can take it. 

He pulls out only to slam into you again in a deep, passionate rhythm. In and out. In and out. It is endless and harsh and feels so fucking good.  

Your eyes instantly roll back and stay there. Your fingers dimple the nape of his neck as you clutch him for dear life. Jungkook himself can’t keep his eyes focused, gazing at you through a veil of blurriness.

“Is this good for you?” he gets out through gritted teeth.

“Good”, you wail, writhing in ecstasy.

“Fuck, I’m fucking high on you.”

He thought that he knew the feeling of your cunt but this is different. This actually forces him to listen to nothing but his instincts. He thought that he was out of control in the shed, but he wasn’t. This is it. You are so hot around him, so soft and you are filled with slick to the very brim. It is Jungkook’s task to fuck it out of you in heavy, strong thrusts, making a mess of your bodies and the sheets in the process. He isn’t aware of it yet but this gives you so much relief. You were bursting inside and now it is finally leaving you. There is no muscle in your body which isn’t currently puddy. Everything you exist for right now is to be fucked by him. There is no other sensation to you than that of his thick cock reshaping your insides. 

“Baby, this is a lot. Holy fuck, this is argh”, Jungkook gets out, scrunching his face in anger. He wants to go deeper, but he can’t. It pisses him off, makes him want to break shit. He knows it’s this stupid position. Fucking good for nothing. Who thinks of something that unfavourable? (Jungkook will think back to this moment once he is clear in his head and wonder why he hated missionary so much.) But he hates it right now. He can’t even see himself inside you, his base is barely inside. 

“More, I need more”, he growls and pulls out.

“No please, please it hurts please”, you instantly beg.

“Patient, I’m rearranging you.” 

Jungkook takes your legs and guides them into a better position. You let him reshape you. This is what your body currently exists for and wants. It needs someone as strong and dominant as Jungkook to bend it to his will. Each second where he handles you feels like heaven. 

He puts your legs over his shoulders.

“Hands.”

You obey, giving them to him. He puts them on your own thighs, squeezing them against the back of them.

“Hold them for me there. I want you to feel yourself shake.”

“Yes”, you whimper. 

“Good omega. What a perfect thing you are”, he lulls and slides his hands to your ankles. He picks them off his shoulders and lifts them up. Like this, he opens you for him. Your butt is lifted off the sheets, your cunt instantly gushes out masses of slick. 

“I can’t keep it in”, you confess.

“It’s good, baby. You don’t have to. Relax”, Jungkook assures you in a hungry whisper, eyes a deep gold and mesmerised by you. He moves his hips close and buries his heavy cock back in you. 

You mewl, curling your toes. Slick drips onto the sheets as it makes space for his girthy length, you feel whole again. 

“There we go, fuck”, Jungkook growls and bottoms out. He stays there for nothing but a second before he pulls out again to pick up a punishing rhythm. 

It feels so good that your eyes roll back and you resort to moaning and wailing for him. Jungkook moans with you each time he is deep inside you. This finally scratches the itch. This is finally as deep as he can go. He can finally see himself inside you. Finally he can see how his thick cock reshapes your swollen cunt. He is so big and you take him so easily, moving and trembling around him as he repeatedly pounds you stupid. If you keep this up, he might get pussy drunk.

“I can’t take this. You’re so pretty. Is it good for you?” 

“Yes. More, please.” 

“You’re so perfect. Holy fuck”, he growls and throws your legs over his shoulders to hold your hips instead and pull you onto his cock each time he thrusts into you. You are tighter like this, jerking off his fat cock.

Your voice pitches and rises in volume. You were never fucked like this before. Your needs were never ever getting satisfied like this before. It is changing you and Jungkook makes it even better by taking your clit between his fingers to massage her. She is so swollen and big that he can jerk her off just a little, making you howl. Your hands drop from your thighs just so you can rip the sheets in your attempt to twist them.

You can’t take it. He makes you climax. It is so intense and fulfilling that your sensitive breasts leak again. You howl his name as it happens.

The scent of your sweet breasts and your pretty face sets off Jungkook.

“I have to. It happens”, he gets out and throws his head back. He moans loudly, falling victim to his orgasm. His toes curl for it, his tones stomach flinches.

And because you are currently in heat, existing for nothing but him, his seed sets you off again. It brings you back into this uncontrollable, intense state of bliss you experienced for the first time in the shed. It should be familiar to you by now, but it is not. 

You cry and sob, knowing that you won’t be able to stop orgasming for as long as your body needs to. 

Jungkook knots instantly, cursing so graphically that he is surprised himself. 

“Baby, I can’t stop. I can’t, I’m sorry”, he chants panickedly, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. It forces his knot to keep leaving you and then popping back inside. The stimulation is unlike anything he has ever felt before, making his toes cramp from curling them so harshly and his hips become even more violent. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it feels so good. Stop me, I can’t stop it”, he apologises because you cry so much. He wants to stop hurting you but he can’t. His hips rut against his will. 

“Don’t stop please. It feels so good”, you release him of his guilt, clenching down on him as he drills his knot back into you.

“What? You’re in no pain?”

“No pain. Oh god Koo, I’m cumming again…Ah!” You have to wail, squirting around his thick knot as he buries it inside you over and over again. 

“Ah! This is the best sex I ever had, oh god”, Jungkook moans, arching his back.

The knot fucking burns so deep in such a good way. You are so empty without him, the breach is so intense and once he is inside again everything is well. Your pussy sounds so wet, squelching around his knot sinfully. This is seriously the best sex he ever had.

“It’s so good, I’m so high”, he growls, following your orgasm with his own. It is so unbearable to keep moving but his hips have a mind of their own. They keep rutting and fucking even through Jungkook’s shakes. “I can’t stop this. Holy fuck, urggghh.“

If you knew that your little stunt in the shed would lead to having your guts knot fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook, you would have agreed to this bond sooner. Yup, we have reached the point of total acceptance of your situation. Fuck that his father didn’t howl. Fuck that you only married Jungkook because you were forced to. Fuck that this wasn’t meant to happen. This right now is everything which counts. It is making this entire situation right. It was meant to happen.

“Jungkook, I can’t stop”, you sob, grabbing for him helplessly.

“I know. I can’t either”, he gets out, holding your hands and pinning them above your head. Like this he is lying himself down on you, folding your willing body in half and burying his knotted cock so deep inside you that you feel him against your cervix. In your state, lost in heat and his seed, it is the highest level of pleasure he can give you. And you thank him with loud cries and your claws digging into his hands against their will. 

His own claws come out to play. He angles his hands so they wouldn’t hurt you. Like this, your hands are under his’, shaking and twitching as he brings you over one edge after the other.

“I can’t stop. Jungkook please help me”, you wail.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Baby, I’m here”, he soothes you and shakes as he manages to bury his knot in you again. You are getting tighter and tighter and his knot more and more sensitive. “Urgh, baby you’re making me- ah!” 

He loses control, pumping your belly full of his hot cum. Now that he is pressed against your cervix, his seed pushes its way right past it, giving you the feeling of being alive you so dearly craved. Of course it sets you off again, of course you cry as if you never had an orgasm before and experience it for the first time. Of course it sets him off again. Of course all of this is happening. It was meant to happen. Of course it was. 

And as you cry and sob in relief and bliss, Jungkook can barely stop his claws from hurting you. He grew in size and strength. Your small, fragile body is in danger of being crushed under him. 

He does what he needs to do. Jungkook grips the headboard, growling like a rabid animal. You are so stretched out, so lose around his knot. And so wet. He can’t stop fucking you with his creamy knot. It feels so good to have you struggle for a second but then take him happily. It feels even better because you moan with such ecstasy each time he drills it back into you.

Jungkook growls and grips the headboard tighter. And tighter. And tighter with each heavy thrust. With each of your moans. Tighter and tighter until suddenly it cracks loudly, breaking into two right under his hand. The bed gives up, forcing you to sink a good ten centimetres. 

“What?” You squeak out, looking around you disoriented. 

“Doesn’t matter. Look at me”, he dismisses it, cradling your cheek tenderly. One might never know that seconds ago he broke the bed with the same hand. “Look at me, only look at me.”

You look at him and fall back into the pleasure, having to orgasm instantly at the sight of him.

You wail for him, watching with blurry eyes as he orgasms as well.

His seed hits you in the deepest parts of you. He fucked you so sensitive that you can feel his thick vein pump it out of him. His knot trembles as it happens, bringing you to your blissed limits.

“Again.”

“Me too. If you- I- me too.”

His hips freeze as he is deep inside you. Your walls tighten and force his knot to stay inside you. He can’t move. It is happening to you as his seed drugs you, his knot does the rest. You can’t stop climaxing. It is finally happening. 

Jungkook whimpers helplessly, dropping your legs and collapsing into you. Your limbs close around him, his own do the same with you. He is on top of you, but gravity forces him to fall to his side and take you with him. You are stuck together, shaking and flinching as your bodies are trapped in the most addicting state of being. You orgasm which sets him off, which sets you off and so on. You should know the drill, but it doesn’t get easier to bear. You drool and sob and moan, holding each other so close that you almost melt together.

Jungkook cries out as an especially strong high hits him, writhing helplessly which ends in your position changed. He is on his back, you serve as his warmest blanket. He hugs you so strongly, knotted cock shaking inside your tight walls. You drool all over his strong chest, feeling far away because you are so close to his scent glands. He smells like sex and ecstasy but also like safety. 

It feels more intense than last time. This kind of knotting orgasm isn’t just sexual, it is also emotional. You want to be close and you are and it is ecstasy. There is enlightenment that what is happening to you only happens because you are with your true mate and this enlightenment makes the orgasms only this much more intense.

The sun is starting to rise once you and he finally come down. You are fucked raw and sore by now, crying into the crook of his neck. 

“Holy fuck baby, urgh. I can’t do it again. I’m cramping”, he says, “sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sore. Kook please I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m here. Baby, my love. I can’t believe we did that”, he instantly falls into a love drunk, sappy state. He hugs you so tightly, feeling up your knotted pussy gently to soothe her. 

“I don’t wanna be on top, please”, you beg, shivering.

“You’re safe, princess. I’m here”, Jungkook says and changes positions for you. Somehow in a mixture of his strength and your refusal to give up his knot, you and he end up in flipped positions. He is still inside you, keeping you bred and warm. All while he gives you warmth through his body, adoring you right with kisses all over your face and neck. 

“I’m so proud. I’m so fucking proud. Holy fuck, I feel high. You did do well. Oh my pretty princess. My baby love”, he whispers between his loving kisses, hands caressing your sweaty, sore skin gently. 

This is instinct as much as it is his heart’s desire. He wants to soothe you, adore you, bring you down gently after lifting you so fucking high. He isn’t aware of how important this is to you. You feel so vulnerable and emotionally sensitive. It would be the same thing if someone decided to start open heart surgery on your aware self. This is how vulnerable you feel and it is Jungkook who makes it okay. It is Jungkook who calms you down and reminds you that you are allowed to be sensitive because he is there to protect you.

“I can’t comprehend this. I feel high. Wow baby, wow. How do you feel?” he babbles.

“Vulnerable.”

“Oh baby, I know. I’m here. Your Kook is here”, he assures you, nuzzling his nose against your scent spot. He hopes that if he nuzzles it long enough, he can spread some of his relaxing scent on you.

It works. Of course it does because your bodies need no instructions to communicate. It is natural and right and makes you and him feel fuzzy. 

You sigh. Jungkook smells the relief against your neck. He kisses a path to your face. Your glassy eyes await him,  eagerly building connection once they can. 

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“No, I have to thank you. This was the best bonding night ever.”

“No, thank you”, you insist, spilling tears 

Jungkook wipes them, knowing that you want to tell him something.

“For what, princess?” 

“For, for making me feel like this. I, I was never in heat like this. I didn’t know that I could and it makes me feel really vulnerable. But you’re so gentle with me and it’s so nice.”

His eyes soften. He whispers your name adoringly and kisses your forehead.

“I feel the same. This was my first rut ever. I didn’t think that it would be so intense.”

“Kook, I’m scared. I don’t know what this means.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He kisses your nose, stubbing you with his own afterwards. “We can ask someone about it, but all I know for now is that I don’t wanna fucking stop having you close.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He kisses your lips, making your heart race and feel at home. He breaks the kiss gently, giving you the fondest and warmest smile ever.

“I’m so proud of you. You did so well, my princess baby.”

“Oh wow”, you get out, having to giggle. 

Jungkook giggles with you, smiling as he steals a cheeky kiss. Afterwards he sits up. He is still connected with you by your middles, making you gasp and shiver.

“Sorry, I shifted. Are you okay?”

“Yes, oh god. What is happening to me? I feel so comfortable.”

Jungkook smiles, caressing your sides. He can’t stop looking at you. Your breasts are normal again, natural victims to gravity and so soft. They are still messy and wet from what happened before but nothing new leaves you. Your belly is bloated from his seed and covered in a layer of sweat. No wonder you sweat so much, you were burning up. Jungkook dances his palms over your bloated stomach, furrowing his brows in emotion. 

“So alive”, he whispers.

“So alive”, you sigh, placing your hand over his’. 

“___”, he says and meets yours eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I didn’t get to say it as we were doing it because I was dumb in pleasure, but you are so beautiful.”

“You think so?” 

“I do. I can’t believe that you’re real and, and that you allow me to see you naked. I just”, he exhales shakily. “I’m just so happy”, he chokes out, throwing his hand over his eyes to hide his tears. 

“Kook, don’t cry”, you gasp and pull him down to you. He falls to his elbows, allowing you to hold his hands above your head. 

He is pouting and sniffling. You give him a  smile.

“Don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears. We’re bonded, I’m so happy”, he says and smiles through his pretty tears. 

Your smile grows, you squeeze his hands. He was right when he said that you and he will get to know each and that it will be nice. You can feel it. You are right for each other. You are so right. 

You put your legs around him and push him deeper again. 

“Oh”, he gasps, squeezing your hands, “wo-oah this felt really intense”, his voice quivers as he speaks.

“It does”, you agree, rolling your hips up.

Jungkook gasps, “what are you doing?” 

“I want more of you.”

“Really? Baby, you’re sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. Be gentle. Please make love to me, Kook baby.” 

Jungkook spills tears, whimpering your name. This is everything he ever wanted. He pulls out of your sensitive warmth to thrust into you. 

Crack! 

You and he scream in shock as the bed finally gives up completely and comes crashing down onto the ground. Jungkook keeps you safe with his arms around you and your head cradled against his chest. 

You and he share a moment of shocked and disoriented silence before you break it.

“Oh my god”, you let out, breaking into loud, honest cackles. Jungkook looks at you, having to break into laughter as well.

“Did we just get cock blocked by the bed?” 

“I think so. It might be my fault. I kinda broke it when I fucked you with my knot. Sorry.”

“Oh god, Kook.”

You laugh oh so loudly, throwing your head back for it. 

Jungkook has to almost squeak as he laughs with you, heart bursting in his chest. 

“This is so funny. Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, it’s hilarious”, he agrees and goes in for a surprise kiss. 

Your laugh cuts off, a gasp replaces it. Your eyes fall closed and your hands bury themselves in his soft hair. This kiss is emotional and it is deep. It has meaning. It is happy and filled with love. Jungkook lets you experience it to its fullest, ending it with a stub of his nose and a smile. 

“I promise to fix it. I’ll add steel in the frame.”

“So you think we’ll break it again otherwise?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs breathily, nodding his head. “If this is how it feels to be with you during stimulation induced heat, imagine how it will be once it’s your natural heat.”

You gulp, gazing at him dreamily. The rising sun shines on his face, making his skin glow golden. 

“Koo, I think you need to heat proof this entire room”, you whisper, making him chuckle and nod his head.

“I will. I’ll make it safe and cozy. Shit baby, I can’t stop saying it. You’re so beautiful. The sun is shining on you and you’re so beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, looking at him shyly 

“You’re beautiful too”, you whisper, making him blush. 

“Wow, thanks”, he mumbles, scrunching his nose. He does a little shift to be closer to you. The bed croaks and punishes him for it by making the headboard drop. He catches it before it can fall on top of you

“Piece of shit bed.”

“Oh god”, you laugh “I think we need to take care of this mess first and then continue.”

“Yeah shit, I think you’re right. The bed’s out to get us.” 

You laugh and snicker, kicking your feet happily. He chuckles and shoves the headboard to the side. 

“Come on, let’s take a shower”, he says and picks you up.

You nuzzle into him, feeling beyond safe.

“Do you have snacks too? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“Of course. You know what? First fact about me? I’m actually a really great cook.”

“You are?” 

“Mhm, I’m also a total foodie. So if you wanna bribe me into snuggles, get me food and I’ll be the cuddliest boy ever.”

You snicker. It makes your heart flutter when he talks cute with you.

“Do you like food?” he asks.

“Yeah, I like food. It’s comfort.”

“Yeah, right. Do you like cooking together?” 

“I never did it before.”

Jungkook holds you closer.

“Then I know what we’ll do. Shower and cook and I get to give you kisses. And later when you’re not sore anymore, I’ll make that gentle love to you. If you want me to.” 

“Yeah, I want you to. This sounds so nice. Koo?”

“Yes, love?” 

“It’s gonna be so easy for me to fall in love with you.”

“Wow, you. Urgh, you drive me crazy you”, he gets out through gritted teeth and presses you against the next best wall to attack your face and neck with tingling kisses.

You squeal his name, having to laugh in giddiness. It will not be the last time that you laugh because of him.

[greengoblinswifey]

My Winner- Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

warnings- unprotected sex, angry sex, creampie, daddy kink, slight argument/angst, fingering, face fucking, choking, ass slapping, degrading kink, praise kink, slight spoiler for s4 ep 1(takes place during s4 ep 1)

A/N: I haven’t written smut on here in so long but after watching the first episode of s4, i had to😛He looked so hot. Requests are open!

Cheering quickly transitioned into worry as JJ easily overtook Rafe in the dirt bike race. You didn’t want to doubt your boyfriend but for a moment it seemed as though he wasn’t going to win— and then he didn’t.

“Shit!” you screamed, as Rafe’s poor attempt of bumping the Pogue’s bike caused them both to come crashing down. It took everything out of you not to run over to him before the race was over.

“Oh my god, are you okay,” you asked, helping your boyfriend from the sand as the crowd ran over to Topper.

As much as you wanted to scold him for endangering himself and someone else, you held your composure.

Rafe was seething, but anything was better than JJ or John B winning the Enduro.

Before driving him home, Rafe and his sister Sarah had a squabble with him accusing her of killing their father. It wasn’t your place to interrupt but you looked at Sarah with apologetic eyes, dragging your boyfriend away before he said anything more hurtful.

“I don’t fucking care,” he mumbled, still seething from losing the race and the incident with Sarah.

“Oh I know you don’t, but how can you say that to your own sister? You know she’s grieving too right? How can you accuse her of killing your father?” He didn’t answer, the grip he had on your thigh getting more painful as you approached Tannyhill.

The door was barely closed before your boyfriend pushed you up against it, his hand around your neck.

“I’ve had a shitty day seeing those fucking Pogues and losing that race, and I don’t need your lecturing making it any worse. I’m gonna take you right here, right now.”

Unable to get a word in, he smashed his lips against yours, his hands going to your ass and squeezing. While you wanted to discuss what happened further, there was no way he’d allow that before he let his anger out. Not that you were complaining.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he uttered, his hand swirling your clit with the other hand still around your neck, “you love seeing me all worked up.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

He found the sweet spot on your neck as his skilled fingers swirled your clit, rubbing rough circles and sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. A gasp escaped your lips as he slipped two fingers inside your pussy, giving you no time to adjust.

“Please,” you moaned, not even sure what you were begging for but his fingers felt too good inside you. The look on his face was almost enough to make you cum. The buzz cut, the dazed, lustful look in his eye as he released your neck from his kisses and stared at you.

“I can feel you just clenching around my fingers, so fucking close, cum for me slut,” he demanded. His thrusts sped up and his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, causing you to release all over his hand.

“That’s a good fucking slut, now, my turn.” He forced you to your knees, stripped himself and you of your clothes leaving you both bare. His cock was painfully hard in front of you, thick with the head glistening.

He tapped your mouth, you already knew what was about to happen. Rafe groaned as he shoved his cock down your throat, bucking his hips and shuddering, savoring how good your mouth felt around him.

“Gonna fuck your throat okay? If you want me to stop, don’t hesitate to tap my thigh.” You looked up at him and nodded, naked on your knees with his cock filling your mouth.

He held your hair in his hands, snapping his hips forward and fucking your throat. Your nails dug into his thighs, trying not to gag and focusing on the feeling of him so deep in your throat.

“God, look at you, on your knees just taking whatever I give you,” he moaned at the sight below him.

Humming around his cock, you used more tongue, swirling it around the head as he pulled out all the way and slammed into the back of your throat.

“I love it when you moan around my cock like a little whore,” he chuckled in between moans.

You could feel how close he was getting as his brutal thrusts sped up and his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Get ready, open up that fucking throat, get ready to swallow every drop of my cum, bitch,” he moaned.

You did as you were told and continue suckling on his dick, his pace faltering as his cum shot down your throat.

“Fucking hell, good girl, that’s my baby,” he breathed, slowly thrusting to make sure you swallowed every drop.

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around him, your lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as he tasted the remnants of himself on your tongue.

You opened your eyes as Rafe threw you unto his bed, his cock still hard and ready for your dripping pussy. His eyes were locked on yours as he slowly inched inside you and for a moment you thought you were about to have sweet, loving sex.

“Daddy,” you gasped, feeling him snap harshly against you, his cock practically kissing your cervix. Sweet, loving sex was clearly not in the works.

“Fucking take it,” he whispered, sending shivers throughout your body. His pace was brutal and the headboard knocked against the wall continuously as he fucked you hard.

“Mm, daddy, feels so good,” you cried, his cock going in and out of you roughly, making you see stars and you hadn’t even cum yet. Rafe wrapped his hand around your neck, and used the other to pinch your nipples, making you feel even more ripples of pleasure.

“Fucking cum all over daddy’s cock, now,” he demanded. His lips captured yours as you shuddered under him, your climax overtaking your body, but he didn’t stop. He continued fucking you hard through your climax, your tits bouncing, your body and the bed moving upwards, roughly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, so fucking hot when you cum for me. Now get on all fours.”

The loss of his cock inside you made you whine, but you did as you were told, going on your hands and knees, arching your back just the way he liked it. “What an obedient slut, good girl,” he cooed.

Rafe pressed your face into the bed as his rough thrusts began, this angle making him feel even deeper inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he moaned, the sound going straight to your pussy. You absolutely loved when he was vocal.

“Mhm, yeah,” you moaned, as he slapped your ass and dug his nails into your hips, slamming you hard against his cock. He pulled you back by your neck, your back arching off his body, his pace never faltering. “Rub your clit for me baby.” You obeyed, rubbing your clit as he fucked you from behind, moaning in your ear.

“Daddy, gonna cum,” you managed to croak out. This made him speed up his thrusts and he rolled his hips, continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you as you lost yourself on his thick cock.

“Good girl, that’s it, feels good doesn’t it? I know it does baby, I know,” he cooed, “but daddy isn’t done with you yet.”

Your body fell limp on the bed and he lifted your hips, pressing you into the bed as he chased his own orgasm. You screamed, the pleasure almost too much having cum three times already.

“You can take it baby, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

You nodded frantically, rubbing circles on your needy clit as his thrusts got harder and sloppier, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. With a loud moan, you squirted on his cock, surprising you both and making Rafe spurt his cum inside you almost immediately. He continued fucking you through both your highs as your legs shook and you began seeing stars.

He collapsed on the bed beside you and you snuggled into him, your body aching from the treatment he gave you a minute prior. You lay in silence, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the room.

“You’re my winner, Rafe.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. You always knew what to say to make him feel better.

“I may not have won but as long as I did in your eyes.”

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ��hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn��t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[lalunanymph]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. STOLE MY HEART (AND MY PANTIES) ♡

✧₊⁺ SUMMARY when your panties go missing like clockwork every wednesday, there's only one possible explanation...

✧₊⁺ WARNINGS fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, perv!caleb nation rise up, male masturbation, oral sex, pseudo-stepcest (for like, the first scenes), use of gege, use of mei mei, almost getting caught, semi-public sex, against the wall sex, closet sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, petnames (princess, pipsqueak, beautiful girl), caleb huge cock agenda, repressed emotions, angst if you squint, mdni, 18+, do let me know if i missed any warnings !!

✧₊⁺ DAWN SAYS oh my god here it is.... caleb debut we up!! this was the product of horny from the caleb gc and i have to thank everyone for fuelling this piece with sm thots (no prayers) ily all caleb fawkers <3 writing this took like 5 years from me (dying from the horny) so please enjoy and do let me know what you think <3

✧₊⁺ x/twt

Caleb knew this was wrong.

He knew with every fiber of his being that what he was doing was completely, irrevocably and utterly wrong.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself. It was like an addiction.

You were like an addiction.

It started with one missing pair.

In your defense, work had been pushing you too hard, and whatever spare time you could muster was dedicated to rotting on the couch. You would wave him off whenever he offered to do the laundry with a distracted,

"Sure. Thanks, Caleb."

He didn't mind. Of course, he didn't. If only he could use this chance to get what he wanted—your favorite pair of lacy panties. 

It was a gorgeous pair. Black lace, with a little bow in the front, slightly crumpled from being wrapped around your hips all day, and if he really locked in, he swore he could feel the remnants of your body heat still pressed between the lacy crevices.

But, that wasn't the best part. 

The best part was the little wet spot right on the innocuous fabric. A spot which he would press his nose into and inhale; flick out his tongue and run it along the seam, swearing he could taste your musk in his mouth.

That's funny, you commented one day, shooting him a look of confusion. Did you see where my underwear went?

And he would shrug, giving you a teasing look. "Maybe the washing machine ate it, Pipsqueak."

You frowned, wondering if he was pulling your leg. A day later, you found it crumpled and still damp in the back of the washing machine, and shrugged. Maybe Caleb forgot about it.

You had no idea how he had wrapped that delicate scrap of last around the base of his cock last night and was jerking off thinking about the face you’d make once he sank balls deep inside of you. How he had his sleep shirt stuck between his teeth, sweat bulleting down his toned chest and forehead, furiously jacking off his raw cock with the little lacy number stuffed in his fist. Imagining it was you—your cries, your moans, your sighs echoing right in his ear as you rode him. 

The guilt hit him immediately after that and he tried his best to scrub his seed from your panties, crumpling it up and tossing it into the back of the washing machine like he had forgotten to take it out. 

And so, the cycle continued. 

Every laundry day, you'd find one pair missing, only to show up inconspicuously in the back of the washing machine. You were starting to see a pattern: this only happened when Caleb was on laundry duty.

You weren't as stupid as he thought you were. And you had to admit, the thought of Caleb taking your panties, doing God knows what he did with them, stirred a curious flicker of heat in your belly.

It was on a random Wednesday night when grandma was out for a dinner that you decided to make your move. You hid behind the pillar as you watched your childhood friend doing laundry, keeping your eyes peeled on his every movement. 

Caleb looked good tonight. He had just come back from a gym session, face flushed, muscles swollen and pumped. He was shirtless, bare chest glistening, the military tag with the apple charm you gave him dangling from his neck. A pair of headphones muted him from your silent observations, letting you stalk him in peace.

Like the proverbial forbidden fruit, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You had no idea what to make of these new... feelings... you've developed for him, but you sure as hell didn't want to waste an opportunity to catch him in the middle of your suspicions.

And, there it was. A flick of his wrist that was quicker than the speed of light thanks to his Evol—but, you caught it all the same. 

Your panties flew from the laundry basket and into his sweatpants pocket, where he stuffed his fist inside to jam it down further.

You wanted to call him out, corner him and ask what he was doing with your intimate undergarments.

But, you kept quiet, letting him go about his work. 

It was only at night when you gathered the courage to confront him, standing right at the front of his bedroom door. You raised your fist to knock, but to your surprise, the door was cracked ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the darkened hallway. 

Cautiously, you stepped inside his room, immediately hit with the sounds of his low grunts and moans. 

With his back to you, Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, pumping his cock with something held tightly in his fist. Light as a cat, you slunk into the room, taking him off guard by your sudden appearance by his side. 

"Ah!" He squeaked and whipped his head around, looking wildly from the wide open door to your curious expression. "How did you—what did you—why're you here?!"

You pointed at the door with a lazy flick of your wrist. "You left it open, dummy."

His huffs and groans fell on deaf ears as your gaze landed on a familiar scrap of lace in his hand. "I knew it..."

Before he could defend himself, you snatched his fist, dragging it closer to your face as you forced him to reveal the truth to you. To your surprise, he didn't resist, letting you open his clenched fist as his free hand tugged his cock back under the band of his sweatpants. The highpoints of his cheeks were dusted with pink, and honestly looked like he was about to break into tears at your next words.  

"I had my suspicions all along... but, this is all I needed to know." 

Caleb was breathing hard, his bare chest flushed with shame and embarrassment. He couldn’t look you in the eye, the welling guilt overflowing through his stammers and stuttering words.

"Look, I can explain—I-I... that is to say—it wasn't my intention... I didn't mean to..." 

The words tangled in his mouth, losing steam once he realized there was no going back from this. A huge boundary and line had been crossed, and it was going to take more than an apology to get back into your good graces. 

He ran a hand through his mused hair, licking his swollen lips. Caleb couldn't fathom what was in your gaze—whether it was disgust, anger or something else entirely.

But, what he couldn’t deny was how your eyes flickered right to the bulge straining in his pants, the dot of pre staining the front from hastily hiding his arousal from your glare.

What is this feeling inside of me? You thought as you slowly approached him, your panties fisted tightly in your hand. Why am I not yelling at him? Or, scolding him? 

In fact, why were you looking at him like you wanted him to… continue? 

Caleb’s expression morphed from mortification to curiosity, and he gazed at you as you approached him, arms crossed in front of your body. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when you tossed your lace panties right on the seat of his lap. 

“Go on.”

Two words. Caleb’s brain felt like it was malfunctioning.

“What… wh-what do you mean—?” He trailed off, falling mute at the fire dancing behind your eyes. He tried hard not to gape when you sat down next to him, observing him like he was a bug under a microscope, scrutiny heavy in your silence.

Whatever shred of logic he had left disappeared the second you gave him your consent. Caleb slowly tugged down his sweatpants, letting his half-hard cock spring free. He grasped the base of his girth, keeping his gaze locked on yours, gauging your reaction. Your blank face gave nothing away, and he took a deep breath, suddenly wondering if he would be able to perform under pressure… so to speak.

“Touch yourself for me… gege.” 

Your sweet tone, coupled with his honorific, made his cock twitch, coming back to life. Caleb gritted his teeth, wanting to stop himself from jacking off, but unable to deny how your command was making him feel. 

He was hot all over, goosebumps rising on his skin. Biting back a low moan, he picked up where he left off, his movements a bit stiffer and shy.

Surprising him, you leaned forward, wrapping your palm around his fingers, helping him move his slick fist up and down, increasing the pressure.

“Holy—slow down,” he cursed under his breath, glancing at you with burning, violet eyes. “It’s not some j-joystick, Pipsqueak—mhmph.”

Caleb thought he was hallucinating your lips on his, but when his eyes fluttered shut and your taste permeated your mouth, he was acutely aware of how close you were. You tasted like strawberries, your soft lips drawing him in deeper till he was close to drowning. Ragged gasps and breaths echoed between the space where your mouths were connected by a single strand of spit.

His cheeks were hotter than two suns, stomach doing a flip when he felt you gripping his wrist, quickening his movements.

“So, this is where all my panties went,” you murmured, gaze half-lidded and eyes dark with desire. 

Caleb felt like someone had punched him right in the gut when you planted your lips on his throat, sucking your claim onto his skin. He tipped his head back to give you more access to his neck, groaning out your name.

I’m dreaming, he thought. There is no way in hell this is happening.

But, it was. You were here, right in the flesh. Close was never close enough for you when you clambered onto his lap, taking over from his flustered movements to jack him off.

“You’re disgusting, Caleb,” you purred, lips swollen from his kisses. 

He gasped when you twisted your wrist, the rough material of your lace panties chafing his cock in the best way.

“Absolutely… repulsive.” You marked each word with heated puffs in the crook of his neck, running your tongue over the ridge of his jaw. “Using your mei mei’s panties like this to get yourself off…”

Caleb gasped at the rough sensation of your tongue on his neck, never expecting you to tease him this boldly. 

“That’s not—” he broke off in a whine when you started to slide your thumb over his leaking head. “... shit…” he hissed, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“What’d you say?” 

“... nothing…” Caleb exhaled shakily, knowing he could do nothing but let you have your way with him.

Circling his sensitive tip with your thumb, you teased him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say.”

But, for all your bravado, the slick pooling in the pair of panties you had on now was hard to ignore. The feeling of Caleb’s hulking, muscular figure trembling underneath your smaller one injected you with a dose of cockiness. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

He hissed when you tugged on his girth, using your other hand to fondle his balls. 

Shit. It was one thing to jerk himself off, but another to have the woman he loved doing it.

Caleb wasn’t even phased with the realization, his mind feeling like it was floating a million miles away. Lightheaded and overcome by awe, he thought this moment might’ve been a hallucination conjured up by his desperate wishes.

You, sitting on his lap, looking absolutely delicious and depraved, licking your lips as you milked him towards the biggest orgasm of his life.

His hips moved against his volition, snapping into yours. To his surprise, he felt you grinding down on him, reciprocating his actions. The fighter pilot was holding onto his dear life to not spill all over your hands, batting your insistent digits away, breathing heavily.

“N-no, Pipsqueak, hold on—”

He thought he had finally lost it when you got onto your knees, glancing up at him with wide, doe eyes. You unwrapped your lace panties from his cock like it was a depraved gift bow, tossing the delicate scrap to the ground. Caleb’s lashes brushed his cheekbones as he took in the sight of you on your knees, lips mere inches away from his throbbing cock. In a position he had envisioned you would be in since the first time he understood the meaning of lust.

“Come on,” he murmured, brows knitted. “Stop playing—”

His protests died the second you wrapped your lips around his swollen cockhead, lapping at his precum. 

“Shhhiiit,” Caleb exhaled like a deflated tire, resisting the urge to sink his fingers in your hair and fuck your mouth.

While he was taking in the glorious moment of you sucking his dick, his keen ears picked up the sounds of footsteps outside the hallway. In a flash, he twitched his fingers, and his room door went slamming shut.

“... Caleb?” 

Josephine’s voice echoed from behind the door. Instead of freezing and getting off his cock like a normal person, you continued to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down his shiny, spit-soaked length. The soft gurgling of your throat taking his cock reached his heated ears and he cursed under his breath, hoping his grandmother of all people couldn’t hear your stupid stunt.

“Uh, yeah, grandma?” 

He bit back a moan when he felt your tongue slide across the thick, bulging vein down the side of his cock, leaving whispery kisses over his length. He just about nearly spurted some pre right into your eye when grandma asked him, “Where’s Y/N?” and you unexpectedly deep throated him.

“A-ah, I have no idea!” His voice was higher-pitched than usual, those violet eyes boring right into yours, warning you to quit it without words.

“Caleb?” Josephine’s concern shone past the thick barrier.

His heart dropped into his stomach when he heard the door knock jangling. With a level of concentration he usually reserved for the field, not the bedroom, Caleb increased the pressure of his Evol to create a dense weight behind his door, barring her from entering.

“I don’t know where she is, Gran,” he called out, hoping he didn’t sound too strained. You breathed a laugh, mouth still full of his cock, and he shot you a glare.

“Are you alright?” 

She refused to leave him alone, and Caleb cursed under his breath. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, trying his best to sound level-headed and not like he was getting the best head of his life.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from expelling an embarrassing moan. 

Clearly still unconvinced, Josephine cleared her throat. “Okay, Caleb. Goodnight.” 

You giggled softly when a drop of pre hit the back of your throat, lapping up the bitter-salty taste which was clearly a sign of his growing excitement from something so taboo and wrong.

“Okay… night, Gran,” he mumbled in a strained tone.

Her footsteps shuffled away from the door, and Caleb was left with his full attention on you. 

“You feisty little vixen,” he groaned, leaning back on his arms to enjoy the sight of you down the line of his body. 

As you continued to suck him off, Caleb’s breathing grew more unsteady, his bravado and confidence stripped away to be lapped up by your surprisingly talented mouth.

He wanted to ask you how’d you know to suck cock so well, but he thinks the answer would upset him.

In this moment, you were his and his alone. Screw the previous guys you were with—Caleb wants to be the only one you ever think about whenever you take dick. 

Your cheeky tongue expertly swirls over his weeping tip, and he stifles down a loud groan. 

“You’ll be the death of me, I swear.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you took him deeper down your throat. 

Mouth stuffed with him, you flicked your tongue over his heavy, leaking shaft and shot him a smirk. 

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, close to his finish line. 

He gritted his teeth, giving you one last chance to back off before he made a mess in your pretty mouth. 

“I’m close,” he whispered, knowing Gran would be in the other room, sound asleep. 

You hummed, and to his delight and mortification, massaged his taint with your knuckles. 

Holy… He bit out. “S-shit. You gotta show me the guy who’s been teaching you how to do t-this,” he stammered. “I need to beat him up.”

You giggled, letting him go with a soft ‘pop’, licking your swollen lips. It didn’t take much for him to spurt all over your hands, hot and thick, as you continued to fist his length and massage his weak point at the same time. 

Caleb was breathing hard like he had just finished running a marathon, his entire body limp like jelly noodles. He sagged onto the bed, grunting softly when you shifted onto his body, straddling his lap. 

Looking smug like the cat who got the cream, you traced a nail down his broad chest. Caleb caught your hand before it could move down to tease his spent dick, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles instead. 

“I think that’s enough exploration for now, Pipsqueak,” he muttered, chest still rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed and much to his fascination and consternation, lifted your cum-coated fingers to your mouth to suck them clean absent-mindedly.

Caleb’s dick twitched at the sight, coming back to life.

His blood pumped hard with the undeniable yearning and lust he’s had to deny himself for the longest time since he’d known what love meant.

He chuckled tiredly, and without much effort, straightened up, bringing you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Pipsqueak.”

Despite the fast track to this new development in your relationship, you were both still friends first. Banter, inside jokes and giggles filled the bathroom where he cleaned you up, intent to take care of you after you treated him so well. 

As much as you thought things would be different, it felt like… nothing had changed at all.

Caleb didn’t speak of the night since it happened, going back to teasing smiles, hair ruffles and his brotherly brand of affection. If it weren’t for your missing panties from the laundry basket which happened every Wednesday like clockwork, you would’ve thought you hallucinated the entire ordeal with him. 

You had no idea if you should confront him again. A part of you even wondered if he was embarrassed of the whole thing—if he wanted to pretend like the entire night hadn’t happened because he couldn’t stomach the thought of you. Shame and guilt paralyzed you from speaking about the whole ordeal, and you kept your head down, trying to avoid him if you could whenever he came back home after his training.

Since he was home for his summer holidays before returning back to the field, Caleb’s days back were limited. There was no rhyme or reason for you to pursue something so fragile, but a part of you couldn’t help but hope he would speak to you first.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to finish your food?” Gran’s concerned tone broke you from your reverie and you shook your head, forcing a smile. 

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, picking up your plate of untouched food and cutlery before stepping into the kitchen, almost bumping into Caleb.

“Whoa, Pipsqueak. You’re done already?”

You were never good at maintaining a poker face, so when he glanced at you, Caleb could tell something was wrong.

“Hey—”

You stepped away from him, plastering on a bright grin to hide the lapse of your emotions. “I already ate at work. I’m fine.”

Somehow, he wasn’t convinced. But, you didn’t give him a chance to ask how you were before you booked it back to your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it for extra measure. You were a grown woman now, and yet, this rejection from Caleb stung like you were a jilted teenager all over again. 

Huffing, you almost forgot that tonight would be the night of his DAA Fundraiser Gala—a night where you agreed to accompany him as his plus one since Gran couldn’t make it. 

It was one thing to see him again after practically finding out your childhood friend used your lacy undergarments as jerk off material, and it was another ballpark altogether to attend an event by his side, pretending to be his loving, younger sister while fighting off these strange emotions of love and heartbreak threatening to spill over.

Caleb could tell your heart wasn’t in it tonight when he pulled his bike in front of the Administration building where the Gala was in full swing. 

The entire ride here, you hadn’t said a single word, your arms wrapped around him, but your mind felt like it was a million miles away.

Before you could step away from the bike and walk ahead to the front doors, Caleb caught up to you, grabbing your wrist.

“Hey. Can we… talk?” 

He was stuttering, ears turning a bright red when you turned around with a little, “Hmm?” 

The taller, older man hummed and hawed, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze bounced from your eyes to the floor, an exhausting yo-yo of unspoken words and desires. 

“You… look beautiful.” 

You glanced down at the simple black dress you chose for tonight, noting its lack of frills or embellishments. “You’ve seen me wear this dress a thousand times. It’s nothing special.”

Your callous disregard of his praise made him wince, and Caleb shook his head. “Pipsqueak, no. That’s not what I meant. I… I think you look beautiful tonight. As in you and not the dress.”

He trailed off and you held your breath, vain hope blooming in your chest at the sudden fondness glimmering in his eyes. 

“You… mean that?” 

He was about to open his mouth and reply when one of his subordinates clapped him on the back, effectively shooting this tenacious moment between you and Caleb down with a shattering bark of laughter. 

“Captain Xia! You finally made it in time for the raffle.”

Caleb winced at the interruption, but mustered a grin, clasping his comrade on the shoulder. “I’ll see you inside, Ethan.” 

The man named Ethan tipped his head towards you, a wiry shock of ginger curls falling right into his hazel eyes. “Evening, Miss Y/N. You look beautiful.” Not one to stick around after flirting his way through half of Skyhaven, Caleb’s colleague hightailed it towards another group of girls, leaving a blank, ringing silence behind which engulfed you two. 

You could tell Caleb wasn’t exactly fond of Ethan’s praise, his amethyst eyes darkening a shade deeper, glittering like an uncut gem in the heart of a dark cavern. 

But, he shook off the jealousy and turned to you, extending his arm politely. 

Despite the awkwardness lingering between you, you took his arm, unsure what this gesture meant. 

Caleb glanced at you, a subtle furrow in his brow which belied his true emotions. He wanted to ask you how you were after the entire reveal—if you had it in your heart to forgive him. But, the words clogged in the back of his throat, lost in the oasis of his slowly fading hopes and dreams that the two of you could ever be more than just friends.

How can he entertain such a thought when you had someone like Zayne in your life? Caleb shuddered. If there was anyone who was perfect for you, it would be the dark-haired man who was your primary physician. He glanced at you throughout the whole night, watching as you danced, ate and bantered with his teammates. How effortlessly you fit into his life without so much as a hitch. 

Halfway through the second song, Ethan asked you to dance with him, and you agreed, taking his hand. Caleb struggled to keep his jealousy under wraps when he noticed how you tossed your head back, laughing at something his handsome colleague said. Before he could stop himself, the fighter pilot captain stood up and squeezed his way to the dance floor, taking your hand and tugging you into his arms while you were in the middle of a twirl.

“Caleb!” You gasped, and he glanced over at Ethan, giving him a dumbfounded colleague a cheeky wink. 

Ignoring your protest, Caleb smoothly guided you through a slow waltz, taking this time to hold you close. You struggled to put some distance between your bodies, worried that his colleagues would get the wrong idea.

“Caleb, we’re in public—”

“So?” He interjected teasingly. The chandelier overhead threw specks of light onto the dancefloor, fragments of rays speckling his grin. “People can say what they want, Pipsqueak. I’m here with you—that’s all that matters.”

He spun you in his arms effortlessly, reminding you again of how easily he could maneuver your body. Giddy from the champagne and restless from the feelings you were trying so hard to forget from that forbidden night you shared with each other, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Caleb, do I mean anything to you?” 

His grin faltered, though his movements were smooth and sure as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist, playfully dipping you low before putting you back to your feet. 

“Of course, you do. You’re my Pipsqueak,” he murmured, soft enough that you needed to move closer to hear him better. 

But, Caleb could see the doubt flickering across your expression, and he quickly rectified his insensible confession.

“No. Crap—that’s not what I meant,” he stumbled over his words, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the couples twirling and giggling around you, it felt like you were in a bubble, lost in each other’s presence and gazes.

“I like you,” he admitted softly, cringing when he came to the realization that the reason you were being so distant these past few days was because of him. “And I have always… I’ve loved you. Since as long as I can remember.” He had no idea where the confidence to spew these lifelong words he’s kept fast to his chest came from, but it burst forth from the dam the moment he gave his true emotions permission to overflow. 

You gaped at him. Under the strobing lights, Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off you, the flickering beams highlighting just how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You… like me?” 

If his feelings weren’t obvious enough, Caleb leaned forward and without a single shred of fear, he kissed you, softly and sure. Right on the lips where everyone could see.

He didn’t care if someone had spotted him basically professing his love to the woman he had grown up with. The same one who Josephine gave the impression of being his younger sister. All that was on Caleb’s mind now was tearing down your doubts of him not loving you.

Your pretty eyes fluttered wide open when he pulled away, common sense snapping you back to the reality of standing on the dance floor as he waited for you to say something. 

But, you had a better idea to truly show him your love.

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him from the dance floor and towards the exit, turning back to find him grinning knowingly. The flicker of desire you ignited that night when you caught him with your panties matured into something deeper. Something more carnal. 

He took the lead, knowing this building like the back of his hand. There was a hidden room on the second floor where lecturers kept their projectors, and he dragged you right into the dark spot, pushing the door open, and then pushing you against it. 

Caleb’s violet eyes shone brighter than jewels as he leaned in closer, lips millimeters from yours.

“I want you…” 

Intoxicated by his scent, his presence, his everything, you leaned in, too, eyes drooping close, your voice soft and hypnotizing as you whispered: 

“Then, take me.”

Caleb couldn’t waste another moment anymore. His lips slammed into yours with a bruising force and he kissed you like a starved man denied the taste of honey for thousands of years. The sweetness of you coated his palette, saturating his tongue till he felt like he could drown in your flavor. You kissed him back just as ardently, desperate to feel him closer. 

The inexplicable heat of your bodies pressed against each other began to fog up the windows of this tiny room, your mouths meeting in between stirring gasps and ragged moans. 

His lips charted a path from your jaw to your throat, down to the dip of your collarbone. The feel of him tonguing the rise of your breasts past the edge of your dress made a spark of electricity run up your spine. They said that the most sensitive parts of a human’s body were the fingertips and tongue with 100 pressure receptors in one cubic centimeter.

You were starting to realize how correct the fact was. The smoothness of his skin under your fingertips, the texture of his tongue curling around yours, seemed to be magnified by tenfold, your entire body aroused beyond reason. 

“You taste divine…” 

His whisper in your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck tingle. You moaned when he backed you up against the wall, hooking your thighs around his waist. 

You chuckled at his impatience, your hip bumping into an old projector. 

“S-slow down,” you teased in a shaky voice, digging your heels into his lower back. “I’m not leaving.”

He grunted, using one hand to unbutton the front of his pants. “Can’t take the risk.” 

The sight of him, bulging behind his gray boxers, solidified to you how real this felt. How you were about to get fucked by your oldest childhood friend in what was the DAA’s broom closet. 

Despite the less than romantic setting, the sparks flying between your bodies was hard to deny. The mounting heat left you susceptible to exhaling soft moans whenever his lips smeared hasty kisses on your throat and jaw. His teeth preyed on the sensitive strip of your neck, leaving behind careless love bites, his devouring mouth bringing the blood to your skin and gifting you marks in the shape of his mouth. 

It was too dark to make out much of the sight of his cock, but in the sparse scattering of light shining through the grimy windows, you could make out at least 6 inches of flaccidity which was growing into a monster waiting to impale you.

Heart in your throat and a pulse in your pussy, you eagerly lifted your hips, waiting for him to give you what you want.

“Impatient, aren’t we, Pipsqueak?” He teased, though the ragged quality of his voice belied his true need. It felt hot and stuffy inside this little room, but you didn’t mind the mugginess.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back and neck, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Caleb was fighting his inner demons to just grab and ravish you without a care for anything else in this goddamn world. It wasn’t exactly the ‘roses-on-bed-scented-candles-all-night-loving’ he envisioned for his first time, but he still had to be gentle.

He was determined to not hurt you. 

Using his raw strength to lift you with one arm, Caleb discreetly snuck a stroke, making sure he was ready to claim you.

Your eyes shone demurely with mushy desire, glowing softly in the lack of light. Caleb was mesmerized when he slowly unzipped your dress. Your tits were right in his face, held captive by the loving lacy grip of your bra, and he didn’t spare another second to drag them down, letting your pillowy softness overspill right into his waiting mouth.

Caleb took one hard nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive peak with his tongue. Your soft gasps and hitched whines were making him leak all over the dusty floors, and he growled, grazing his teeth on the stiff bud. 

He loved how your hips clipped against his and groaned under his breath when you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging on the roots.

“You’re gonna pluck some strands out if you keep this up,” he grumbled when you pulled harder. The ghost of your laughter brushed the delicate shell of his ear, and Caleb felt your warm tongue trace the ridges. 

Closer to you now, he could plainly hear your quiet whines. Taking his time to prep you, Caleb ignored the strain of lifting you up, enjoying the weight of your body in his grasp as he quickly stuffed his index and middle finger down his mouth.

Lubricating it well with his spit, he used the two soaked digits to pry the seat of your panties aside, before gently easing them right into your fluttering hole. 

Your gasp reverberated across the room and he shushed you, planting his mouth on yours to quell your whimpers and moans.

“C-Caleb—”

Shit. You’re so tight. He murmured right into the crook of your throat, flicking his tongue out to taste your skin. 

Beautiful girl, he whispered. You love this, don’t you? 

The stretch of his fingers felt immaculate, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, slowly feeding you inch after inch. Caleb knew he didn’t exactly have the smallest hands, and that was partly what made this so fun.

If you struggled to take his fingers, imagine how tight you would be wrapped around his cock.

The blood rushed straight to his head, leaving him dizzy. He licked his lips, settling knuckle-deep into the depths of your cunt.

The violet-haired man groaned the same moment you mewled out his name.

Caleb… shit… you’re so deep…

He chuckled throatily. I can go deeper, baby.

Scissoring his fingers, Caleb established a rhythm which had your entire body shaking. 

His mouth stays latched around your nipple, plumping it up with arousal from tender suction and licks.

Your breathy whimpers and heady sighs went straight to his neglected cock. But, Caleb didn’t care. He wanted to fully focus on you. 

You like that, baby? 

Devotion flooded his instincts, loving how you held onto him tighter as if he was both your anchor and the storm wrecking you apart. 

You gurgled a cross between a whimper and a sigh, nodding. “It feels good, Caleb.” 

You weren’t lying. The way you were squeezing down on him made Caleb feel like he was in a dream.

Yeah? He huffed, licking a strip from your jaw to your lower lip. Loving your mewled and arched your back. 

Once your sweet pussy began to flutter uncontrollably, Caleb knew it was time to really claim you once and for all. 

The thrill of fucking you with your clothes still on was part of the entire charm of why Caleb had fallen in love with you. Daring, bold, kind—you were the physical embodiment of all his dreams coming true.

And he never stopped reminding you of how lucky he was to have you.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” he cooed. The feeling of his cock sinking deep inside of you couldn't compare to his fingers.

For one, he was girthier than you expected; stretching you further than what you could handle. Caleb had to clamp a hand over your mouth to staunch your sweet moans.

Ssh. You don’t want them to find us out, don’t you? 

Sweet and obedient, you hummed, shaking your head. The honeyed tenderness in his violet eyes never disappeared, the affection in them shining through with unconcealed devotion.

Your dulcet mewl of, “Caleb, please,” went straight to his dick like a lightning strike, and the last strands of his patience snapped. 

Caleb wanted to take it nice and slow, but the building heat between the both of you that has been stoking for years and years on his end, displaced his common sense. 

He needed to have you; he needed to claim you.

In one swift motion, Caleb lifted you by the hips, hissing in pleasure when you hastily tugged your panties down, allowing him to nudge the tip of his cock past the snug fit of your drooling pussy.

He grunted the second your sweet heat and vulnerable walls closed on him, encapsulating him in your intoxicating warmth. 

Caleb felt your forehead press to his, the closeness of you spiking his heart rate. Despite the position and location he had you in, the air was clouded with intimacy.

Your soft sighs, your yielding kisses, the subdued moans you bit back so as not to give any nosy eavesdroppers an idea of how good he was indulging you, made his head spin with love and his cock twitch with lust.

You’re so big, you whispered and he almost came into your tight heat. 

Caleb grunted, sweat stinging his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. “You’ll be the death of me, darling,” he murmured, losing himself in your gooey, wide doe eyes. “You feel amazing.”

Grunts, moans and puffs of heat touching each other’s lips filled the space. Your body was making him so high; no amount of stimulants or adrenaline could make his heart pound this fast. 

When you pressed your lips to his, Caleb just about had a stroke of Nirvana, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, voice low and deep as he murmured, “I’m close.”

He’d been with girls before, but none of them were you. Experience couldn’t trump the novelty of tasting the first girl he had ever been in love with. 

Tears pricked in your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming.

Caleb… oh… oh… shit.

He felt you tighten on him, the soft plop plop plop of your bodies meeting each other in a sloppy, heavenly embrace loud through the rush of blood flowing in his ears.

Caleb pushed his tongue right into your mouth, at the same moment you cried out his name, muffling your cries.

You were being so unbelievably good for him, not a hint of restraint, and he kept on going. Caleb dug his heels into the ground, propelling his hips in powerful surges, the fucking grip of your pussy on him so warm, wet and tight.

He has no desire of stopping, intent on pushing you over the edge. To get your body to recognize his undeniable claim on it.

You’re being so good for me, princess, he breathed hotly into your ear. I can feel you clamping down—fuck. Don’t stop. 

Your nails stabbed into his shoulders, dragging down his back. 

His precum mixed with your juices, dripping to the floor, your body shaking like an earthquake was ripping through it.

Please—you panted. Don’t stop.

Caleb didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, and to finally see his claim dripping white hot and thick down your thighs.

He has been dreaming of this day since he figured out how to jack himself off—the star of his filthiest fantasies finally in his arms.

Caleb dug his fingers into the plush fat of your thighs, using it as leverage to jerk you up and down his slick cock. He can tell you’re approaching your high from the scrunch in your brow, the way your lips are slack and parted.

“Caleb…”

He encouraged your release with a hearty squeeze, the feeling of his cock rutting deeper into you making your toes curl behind his back.

You tossed your head back, letting a shameless moan escape. Fingers tangling his hair, his mouth pressed to yours, you squeaked, your climax hanging on a tenacious thread.

He broke it with his lips pressed to your ear, growling at you—cum for me, princess. Give me all of your sweet cum. 

Your heels stabbed into his lower back almost painfully, the sting enough to push him over the edge together with you. Caleb pumped you full of his cum, relentless in his need to conquer you. 

His seed painted your walls, your breaths plucking into a whiny, high-pitched moan. If he hadn’t just blown the biggest load in his life, Caleb was sure he would’ve combust into flames when you sucked on his bottom lip needily, murmuring about how much you loved his cum inside of you. 

Caleb brushed a soft kiss to your forehead, setting you back down to your feet. You wobbled and stumbled, needing to hold onto the thick trunk of his bicep to steady yourself. 

The flush on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes was a complete telltale to what you both had done in this closet, and yet, he wanted to see you squirm even more. 

Deftly, without you noticing, Caleb used his Evol to flick your skirt up, smoothly removing your panties and stuffing it into his pocket. He grinned at your aghast expression, words saccharine sweet and dubiously innocent.

“What? That’s my souvenir for the night.”

You had no energy to fight him off, not when he was helping you adjust your dress and hair. Once you were decently dressed and he made sure his pants had no wrinkles, Caleb steps out of the closet, glancing left to right before tightening his grip on your hand and leading you out. 

Your earth shattering release still humming in your bones, you almost felt shy to meet his eyes under the flickering, warm lights.

But, Caleb didn’t let you marinate in your shyness for too long, squeezing your hand and shooting you a bright, reassuring grin.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”

Not Pipsqueak. Not Y/N. 

But, princess. 

Caleb’s princess.

You squirmed under his gaze, but not for the reasons he thought. Caleb glanced at you, curiosity shining in his eyes when you whispered softly: “Can I have my panties back?” 

He grinned, cocking a brow. “And why should I do that, princess?” 

You plastered on a scowl, narrowing your eyes. “Because,” you huffed, “Your stupid cum is leaking down my thighs.”

Against your wishes, you felt the faint stirrings of his Evol brushing your legs, though to someone not accustomed to it, the pressure probably felt like the slightest hint of a breeze. Using his Evol, Caleb slid it between your folds, finding your puffy pussy and to your mortification, the pressure solidified. 

Safely stuffing you full of his cum.

You opened your mouth, about to comment on his audacity when you were accosted by Ethan, who’s self-assured smirk faltered the moment he saw Caleb’s hand in yours.

“Yo… isn’t she your sister?” 

Caleb’s eyes darkened, and he straightened at the intrusive question, his usual jovial, light tone now deeper and authoritative. 

“Do you always make it a habit to make such intrusive comments on your captain’s relationships, Lieutenant Cole?”

The second Caleb uttered his rank, Ethan sobered up and clicked his heels together, arms folded behind his back as he looked past his superior’s shoulder.

“No, sir,” Ethan said clearly, shaking his head. “Of course, not, sir.” 

Caleb nodded, apparently satisfied, and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go home before Gran gets worried.”

The older man knew the second his back was turned, Ethan would run off and gossip with the rest of his cohort, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Let the rumor mill churn. As long as Caleb has you by his side, he wouldn’t pay a single shred of attention to the whispers.

You were noticeably shaken by the encounter with Ethan and Caleb squeezed your hand, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Hey. You okay, Pipsqueak?” 

A deep breath. “Are you sure you… want this?” Are you sure you want me? 

The silent question was unspoken, yet he heard it all the same. 

“Of course, I do,” he said and proving without a shadow of doubt at how serious he was for you, Caleb drew you closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I want this. I want you. And nothing is ever going to change my mind on this.”

Relieved and a little touched by his insistence, Caleb saw the trust spreading across your face; your belief in him strengthening.

“Come on, princess,” he murmured, voice warm as he tugged you towards his motorcycle. “Let’s head home—I’m not done with you yet.” 

Clutching his hand tighter, you flashed him a carefree grin and nodded. 

Home with Caleb. Home and Caleb. 

Both felt incredibly right. 

a/n: i need a cold shower and caleb to come home stat .... reblogs and feedback are so beloved <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[saetiate]

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

extended author's note -- know that this is an incredibly realistic note about the perception of love that will take you out of the fantasy lovey-dovey space. it's a disclaimer for the parts of the fic i romanticize and how u should not romanticize them in real life, as well as some notes about kaiser's characterization if you're interested

[aly4khq]

. · ˚✧ #GRAVITY'S GRACE!

ׂ╰┈➤ WHO? — caleb from l&ds

ׂ╰┈➤ WHAT? — caleb's return took a few turns, and by a few i mean a freaky amount.

ׂ╰┈➤ WARNINGS? — angst to slight!fluff to smut to fluff || fighting, arguing, sědatives, fâinting, restraints, evol usage, kissing, èating ôut, p in v, dirty talk, bondage, slight spanking, sqúírting, grínding, màrking.

ׂ╰┈➤ WORD COUNT? — 3.1K (wowzers!)

ׂ╰┈➤ WRITER'S NOTE? — guys i'm sorry for being absent for so long!! christmas and new years kicked my ass. hope that i can reward you with a small oneshot about my bestie's return.

❝ Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy in your childhood? ❞

He was back. You watched the house burst into flames and roar at you whilst blowing you away. The memories of that house now in the air, to forever be remembered. The necklace being the only thing to hold onto you, staying by your side no matter what happened.

Yet you don't believe it, you don't understand how the man himself can stand there in front of you with no signs of injury at all. His face wasn't weird...and neither was his body..so what's going on? Trying to touch him, your hands get stuck, makikg you spin your head to look behind you.

Shackles around your wrist, tightened by a weird blue jagged pattern which seemed nearly impossible to break out of. Gasping, you stared up at him, wondering why he'd ever tie you up...? He stared back at you, with a stare of absolute devastation and hurt.

"....No, stop it you died."

You stare around, bring the inner part of your mouth to try and help you snap back to reality. The pain only hurting the feelings more then intended, the thought of being perhaps hypnotised.

"I don't..."

You remember, stop lying, you always will.

-

"Since you're a grown up, I won't cover for you this time," Caleb teased, opening the door to your grandmother's house. You had both gone out in a small celebration for your return, it's been ages since you've visited your grandma and — especially — Caleb, your childhood friend.

It's been a long few years away, becoming a Deepspace Hunter and finding the time to go to your home house. As soon as you were given that opportunity, you took it without any doubt.

It was a full day of getting snacks, ordering food, walking around the city and watching the sun set together. Nostaglia filling the space in your mind the longer your hang out went. Caleb was his usual self; always cocky, teasing, mocking, yet also loving, caring and protective. He's been like that for ages, when he decided to become a pilot and have a future in airlines he got even worse.

Caleb was your closest friend, the person who you grew up with. And seeing him get so...protective when it came to that interaction in the alley made you second guess yourself. Was this really the Caleb you remember—

A deafening bang came from the right of to her body, the flames searing hot on your skin as the force of the explosion shoved you back with extreme force. "Ah!" You shrieked, falling onto the hard concrete. Nothing but concern and worry swimming in your blood as your eyes locked onto the burning house.

No sign of Grandma, no sign of Caleb. The house was burning, your memories following, your family leaving you behind to carry the burden of grief.

With a desperate grasp, you held the necklace to your chest, instantly feeling some sort of relief despite the pain surrounding your heart.

Come back, Caleb.

-

Come back Caleb....Come back Caleb....

"Come back, Caleb." You murmured, reliving that moment with tears rolling in your shocked eyes. A gloved hand reaches under your chin, lifting your stressed face upwards to stare into your eyes. It's him. No it isn't. Yes it is—

Caleb tensed at your word, the shackles loosening as you took this opportunity to remove yourself from them. You snapped your hands off of the shackles. Nearly instantly, you got up. Your hands pushed his chest as your other fist threw itself to his face. Unluckily, he managed to catch on.

His hand grabbed yours as his leg went out to kick your legs. You jumped, using your leg to strike his thigh, making Caleb let out a small groan. He took out a small baton, using the item to hit your face. A small squeak escaped your mouth as your hair draped over your face. Caleb hesitated but he did it.

Rapidly, he grabbed your hands and slammed you onto the wall to the side of the two of you. His tall frame hovering over you with nothing but anger in his eyes, he looked devilish. Yet you were fuming, betrayed and heartbroken while you continued to fight.

"Get off of me!" You yelled, your eyes watering with tears as you tried to fight whatever magic you were being controlled with. "Get off! Help! Stop!!—"

Suddenly, a familiar feeling went over your body as you saw a blue hue around you. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. Your breathing slowing down as the nostaglia feeling entered your body, you couldn't help but mumble to yourself. "What the fuck...what the—"

"What, do you not recognise me?" Caleb spoke back, his voice deepened from the last time you even heard his voice. His presence was so intimidated yet so comforting, you missed your family. You really did but the sense of unease was all that he gave you.

The tension nearly instantly deescalated, a look of understand and relaxation fighting its way to Caleb's face as he looked down at your slowly-forming traumatised face. 'Come on Caleb,' he scolded himself, 'don't scare the girl. She's traumatised.'

"You need to hear me out." He started but didn't get far before you started to fight against his evol. He couldn't help just let out a small laugh and the fact that you couldn't do anything.

"Fine, we'll have it your way."

Caleb grabbed a small needle from his inner pocket of his uniform, examining the liquid inside the tube with a focused eye. Ignoring your squirms and loud yells of begging and pleaded, he flicked the top of the needle before turning to you with a sorry gaze.

"Stay still," He ordered, his firm, big hand grasping your arm as the other hand inserted the needle and let the sedative enter your body. As you screamed and cried for him to let you go, he let out a few coos and sorrys. The cold feeling of a suspicious liquid entered your bloodstream, filling you with an uncomfortable sensation.

As soon as he finished, he removed the tube and used his finger to wipe away the blood.

The sedative worked nearly instantly, making your brain all mushy. With an unhealthy amount of fatigue building, you held onto his shoulder, trying to ground yourself against the feeling inside of you.

You began to slowly collapse into his arms, the mysterious liquid making you body turn weak with every few seconds. First your legs, then your arms, then your torso. It was a horrible feeling, like you were slowly dying. "What are...you...doing—"

"Shhh...just relax. I've got you." Caleb reassures, kneeling down with you as your body feel weak to the medicine. His hands holding you so tight that you were sure to not fall away from his grip once again. His eyes closed as he held your hand gently, his soft lips by your ear as he whispered.

"I'll be here to make you feel okay...I'll be here to give you protection, I'll be here to shield you from criminals...I'll be here to make this right again,"

His pinky finger interlocked with yours tightly, an unspoken promise.

"I promise."

When you woke up, the argument that rose was nothing that you've ever think could happen with your possible kidnapper and childhood best friend. What kind of Reddit post is this? You obviously were agitated by this — the person you've grieved and cried over for 6 months had apparently been alive all this time and was never hurt in the first place. How rude.

"Get me out of me Caleb! I don't want to be here with you alone." You snapped back, keeping a good distance between the two of you. He was dressed in a simple jumper with a familiar logo on it, matching trousers and boots. He glared at you, analysing your body from his position before closing his eyes and sighing.

"You're not going anywhere, I won't let you." His tone was rough yet it held possession, heavy possession. His arms were crossed agaisnt his chest and you could see the tension between his muscles and his jumper. Even the thick material was fighting to rip, his outline was so...arousing?

"I am." With a turn of your body, you ran towards the door with purpose. And you didn't stop running until you heard footsteps behind you. A hand grabbed your wrists and turned you around, one hand around your waist. The other hand went to your chin, softly rising your head to stare into the eyes of — surprise surprise — Caleb.

"Listen...I won't have you suffer because of me twice. I learnt my lesson the first time and I won't have them force me to make you suffer another time. Why can't you understand me?" His voice was quiet but also demanding, a sense of worry on his intimidating tone. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop lying." You replied, your voice lowering in volume. Caleb sighed, his cologne strong as he held you closer to him. "I love you okay? I'll tell you everything just let me make things alright first."

"...I..." You scoffed, turning your head. "I don't believe you."

There was a few beats of silence before you heard a small chuckle escape his mouth, his breath on your neck. "Allow me to make you."

Slowly, his lips latched onto yours, so gentle that it surprised you. His other hand holding the back of your head softly as he used his evol to lock the door. Backing you guys up, the back of your thighs hit the soft mattress of Caleb's bed, leading you to fall over with Caleb hovering above you.

Yet the kiss never ended, your mouths moving at a fast speed as you savoured in his presence. His hands were quick, moving your head to kiss your deeper. His hips gently grinding into your mid section as he groaned into your mouth. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, barely taking a breath before Caleb indulges you in another passionate kiss.

"...I need you..." He spoke through breaths and kisses, his mouth all over your face and neck. "...I promise...I'll explain everything once I know myself..."

Caleb slowly undresses the clothes he recent put on your body, his hand frantic whilst removing the buttons and gently pulling the shirt off. He work quickly, taking off your shorts and underwear at the same time. Caleb stares at you before lowering down to his knees, his strong hand wrapped around your thighs.

"Stay still," He demanded, feeling your legs moving. With no hesitation, Caleb latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue licking up and down your folds with precision. He messily made out with your pussy, groaning into your folds and savouring the taste.

Caleb's thumb moved from your thighs to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it. You squirmed, trying to crawl away from his greed. Your hand grasping the bedsheets as you pulled away.

As soon as he saw the slightest bit of movement, he stopped you, staring up at you with a lustful gaze, slightly panting. "You better stay there before I make you stay there." His warning was small yet it held enough of a threat to keep you still — for now at least. Caleb continued to relentlessly eat you out, his tongue circling your clit in a quick succession.

"Ahh! Caleb! Please—wait! I haven't..." You let out a few pants, throwing your head back as your back met the mattress once again. Your legs rising as Caleb followed you, grinding his hips into the bed like an animal in heat. He groaned, his tongue flicking against your sensitive hole.

"Caleb! I'm gonna!—Fuck..! Slow down..!!" You begged onto deaf ears, Caleb increasing his speed. He wanted you to cum on his mouth, to release whatever stress you have onto him right now. "Cum," He breathed out, "cum on my tongue, you slut."

You gasped, finally releasing yourself onto his tongue. Your eyes closed as your hands found leverage in his hair, gripping tightly. Caleb let out a small "Fuck..." slurping up your slick with a desperate need. His hands tightened his grip on your thighs, huge hands squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of your thighs.

In less than a second, he was up, desperately pulling removing his tie. He He removed his shirt, seductively sliding his belt through the loops and removing his trousers. Caleb grabbed your shoulder, pushing you onto your stomach with a kiss on your back. You felt a smooth material go over your wrists, tying your arms behind your back in a secure grip. His tie.

"...Caleb you freak..." You murmured, a small amount of shock on your face which soon tuned to pleasure when you felt him line up his dick to your entrance. Your eyes opened as you felt the sheer thickness of his cock on your pussy. You tried look behind you and see what he was doing yet a firm unseen force held your head forward, "I warned you."

Caleb pressed his hips against yours, instantly filling you with that huge cock of his. The sudden feeling of him so far inside of you made you breathless, squirming against his tie. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan as he held your hips down with his hands.

"...You better brace yourself, I'm not holding back anymore." A hard thrust followed after, striking you deep and fast. His speed was merciless, his hips hitting yours with a heavy force. Your mouth couldn't even form a sentence, just mumbles and chopped words escaping from the pleasure of the man behind you.

Caleb didn't even think about the consequences of his actions, just having you close to him made him loose control. His hands pushed you back onto his cock, matching with his already slapping hips. The sounds of skin slapping echoed in your ears as you moaned out for him.

"You filthy girl...this pussy was just waiting for me to breed it hm? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?" Caleb's hand struck your left ass cheek, his hand grasping your skin on impact. He spread open your cheeks, spitting where you were connected to make it even more wet for him. You nodded, moaning, "Yes C-Caleb! Yessss!!! Oh my!—" You cried, trying to figure out how to deal with this large amount of feelings in your lower half.

Caleb slapped your flesh once more, not holding back on his strength at all. Your brown skin nearly instantly blooming with a soft red hue. "So gorgeous...I won't let you go, not again."

Caleb lowered to your face, still thrusting into your wet cunt with purpose. "You can't bring yourself to hate me with every finer being in your body...can't you?" He mocked, staring at your fucked out face with an evil grin. You tried to answer, but you were apparently too late in his eyes.

Another slap landed on your right cheek, and another followed — harder than the last. "Answer me," He ordered, holding your hip. With struggle, you hummed back, "Hmm! I d-don't h-hate you! Oh Caleb, I can't do this..." With a few more thrusts, Caleb could feel you tightening around his hefty cock.

He let out a soft hiss, kissing your neck with gentle intention. "You gonna cum?" He asked with a softer tone, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Nodding, your mouth hung heavy. "I'm cumming..! I'm cumming Caleb!"

That intense feeling of letting that growing pleasure in your stomach go was so satisfying. Your moans loud as you stuffed your head into the pillows below you. Your legs shook as your orgasm rode out, Caleb still thrusting into your wet, sloppy pussy. He soon came after you, filling you up with a mixture of both you and his cum. The feeling of him filling you was enough to make you squirm more, whining at the feeling of being full.

After a few beats of silence, Caleb slapped your backside one more, rubbing the sore skin afterwards. "I'll rather hear you as well as feel you next time...but I'll let you go this time round."

You laid there, fucked out and fatigued whilst Caleb stood up, his dick slipping out of your cunt. "You're absolutely gorgeous..."

Caleb pressed soft kisses to your body, rubbing the bruises on your hips and untying your wrists. You felt that tension on your head go as he removed his evol, his hands rubbing your neck.

"I love you...I promise you that." He whispered. His whole intimidating and aggressive demeanour had disappeared somehow. But when you looked into his eyes, you finally saw him. That same boy from your childhood. Your best friend had sprung back to life despite all the trouble you both had gone through.

You replied, to the best of your standards, "...Pinky...?" Your voice was soft and also vulnerable, melting Caleb's heart.

He let out a small chuckle, holding your face towards him and locking it in with a kiss. "Pinky."

Caleb gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, holding your face with gentle fingers. He pulled away after a short time, laughing at your marked body. You let out a small giggle, "I didn't know you had that in you Caleb..."

"Neither did I, until I met you."

© aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy any of my work. 12/01/25

[peachylynnie]

glasses

word count: 1.2k synopsis: in which you wear zayne's glasses. contains: zayne x mc!reader, slightly posessive zayne, whipped zayne, mentions of violence, slight angst, and fluff overall. a/n: i really like zayne's glasses (the frameless ones). do not copy or translate my work. zayne does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated :) lads masterlist: here

zayne doesn't expect you to be awake when he comes home. given how late he leaves his office, he's not surprised to find you fast asleep in your adorable pajamas with your mouth open and legs splayed by the time he arrives at your shared bedroom. though, there are times when he finds you awake, either treating your wounds from another day of hunting wanderers or sitting outside on the balcony to gaze at the stars. but, those times are rare. (not to say he doesn't appreciate them; he's in awe of how strong you are whenever you ramble about taking down a wanderer as he bandages you up and how the stars don't even compare to how stunning you look whenever he joins you at the balcony).

point is: zayne doesn't expect you to be up so late at night (morning at this point) when he walks in. so, he's surprised to find you awake... in his glasses.

the prodigious doctor freezes in place after closing the door. there you are, legs crossed on the couch with a book in your hand and your eyebrows furrowed as you flip a page, causing his glasses to tilt on the bridge of your nose. oh, god. he can feel his knees buckling. not from the eight-hour surgery he just finished, no. but from the gorgeous sight in front of him. his glasses looked so good on you.

"darling?" he calls breathlessly.

you yelp, causing the glasses to nearly fall until you swiftly catch and adjust them with your fingers. he thinks it's the most seductive thing you have ever done (besides the time you insisted on shaving his chin on a rocking chair). "zayne?!" you stand up immediately, abandoning the book on the couch and rushing to him to wrap him in a hug. "how long were you standing there for? i didn't notice you at all!"

"was the book that interesting?" the man questions as he returns the hug, careful not to apply too much pressure. he doesn't want to break his glasses after all. not because they're his, no, not at all. but because he wants to see you wear them more often.

you look up at him from his chest and nod. his heart soars at the sight. the glasses...they bring out the light in your eyes.

"oh? thanks, zayne." you giggle. ah, he said that out loud. his ears grow red as he averts his gaze to the side.

"ahem," he coughs. "why are you wearing my glasses, anyway? do they match your prescription?"

"yes, actually!" your beam. "i couldn't find my glasses earlier, so i decided to use yours." you lean playfully to the side to see his face. zayne can't help but smile upon meeting your eyes. they really did look good on you, and he couldn't be happier to hear that his prescription matches yours. "i hope you don't mind," you say sheepishly. "i was only going to use them for tonight. i'm sure my glasses are lying around here somewhere." at that, you twist left and right to scan the living room.

"no need," he says almost immediately. he really doesn't want your eyes to leave his right now, not with you wearing his glasses so mesmerizingly. you look at him with curiosity when his hands slide up your neck and stop at your face, gently cooling your cheeks.

"are you alright, zayne?"

he nods silently and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. "i'm alright, darling." caressing your cheek with his thumb, the man adds, "and i don't mind. not at all. wear them whenever you like. i have some spares back at the office."

"oh, okay." you're taken aback by how eager he sounds. it's almost as if he wants you to wear his glasses, and his glasses only.

except that's exactly what the man standing before you wants. to continue to wear his glasses whenever you please. the idea of you enjoying a book while donning his glasses fills him with an immaculate sense of pride. he takes it even further by imagining the faces of all the interns who dared to gawk at you with starry eyes whenever you visited him at his office. he's sure once they see you with his glasses, they'll get the message.

"but i still have to look for mine at some point," you yawn. he takes note of how his glasses slide down whenever you scrunch your nose. "they weren't exactly cheap, you know?"

"i'll help you look for them in the morning," he says as he guides you to the bedroom (lies, he's going to hide them). your sleepy eyes look even more adorable with his glasses on; oh, he swears he can feel himself melting (and that says a lot given his evol).

"thanks, zayne," you say sleepily as you settle under the covers. "you always take care of me, you know that?"

"i'm your primary care physician. it's my job to take care of you," he answers as he sheds his coat and hangs it in the closet.

"you're also my boyfriend, remember?" you grumble, shifting onto your side.

"no, i forgot," he replies monotonously.

you jerk your head back, shooting him a glare. him and his dry humor.

zayne remains unfazed as he joins you in bed. "you should remember this too," he murmurs your name. "you don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you." pulling the covers up to your chin, he adds, "i will always take care of you." you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "not because i am legally obligated to do so, but because i love you. please remember that."

you blink, taken aback by his words. it's not often you get to see zayne so honest and close to you like this. due to your busy schedules, tender moments like these are hard to come by. determined to make the most of this, you cup your lover's face and plant a kiss on his lips. indulging in the much-needed warmth your lips provide, zayne deepens the kiss, his hands finding your waist.

after pulling back for air, you throw him a cheeky smile. "thanks, zayne."

he looks at you unamused. "what did i just say?"

you laugh before shifting onto your back, ready to sleep. sparing him one last glance before you close your eyes, you say, "i love you, zayne."

"i love you too," he whispers as he watches you drift off peacefully. it doesn't take long for him to turn and reach for the pull chain on the lamp. except he notices something.

you forgot to take his glasses off.

chuckling to himself, zayne carefully removes them from your face. as much as he loves how they suit you perfectly, he wants you to be comfortable. after placing his glasses on the nightstand, he returns to your side and notices another thing: the small dents on your nose bridge left by the pads from his glasses.

unable to stop himself, your lover admires them by gently tracing his finger over them. it seems there are many ways to show that you are his and he is yours. he's delighted his glasses are one of the ways.

after finally pulling the lamp chain, zayne presses one final kiss to your forehead.

"goodnight, darling."

[5sospenguinqueen]

Am I The Problem? | Franco Colapinto x Williams! Reader

Summary: After finding out you were going to be teammates, you and Franco have very different reactions. Franco is prepared to worship the track you race on whilst you do everything to ignore him. Until it becomes impossible to

Warnings: angst, swearing, the loss of a family member, a suggestive comment

Requested: Yes by anon (full request)

F1 Masterlist

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williamsracing just posted

liked by jensonbutton, jackdoohan and others

francolapinto dream reality

18,200 comments

williamsracing welcome to the team. we’re so excited to have you become part of the williams family 

user1 so they’re replacing logan, an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon, with an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon?

officialmpmotorsport we’re very proud of what you’ve achieved this season, and good luck in f1

user2 this doesn’t feel fair. he’s getting a seat (amazing) but will be paired with a driver who doesn’t want him there

dennis_hauger 👏🏻👏🏻

user3 has anyone checked on yn? she was always so happy to be racing alongside her childhood friend, and now they don’t even get to finish the season together

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others 

yn_ln i knew i was going to have to say goodbye at some point but i never expected it to be so soon. i couldn't have asked for a better teammate but at least you’ll always be my friend. i’ll miss you so much, lo lo, but i will be there supporting you wherever you go next 

23,096 comments

logansargeant 🤍

→ user4 signs of life! 

→ user5 the fact that she is the only person he has responded to

user6 even when she’s devasted, she stays respectful. literally the perfect role model for girls in karting

user7 chat, do we think yn will stay with williams next year?

→ user8 i don’t think she even wants to stay with williams for the rest of the season

→ user9 she looks so miserable any time she’s with them/james vowels

user10 poor franco. she didn’t even congratulate him on any of the posts

→ user11 because she doesn’t have to

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yn_ln posted a new story

logansargeant replied wow so i really am easy to replace → yn_ln lo, no…  → logansargeant how many more times are you going to fall for that? → yn_ln dickhead  → logansargeant the internet was right. you are the personification of satan → yn_ln 🖕🏻🖕🏻

oscarpiastri replied haha the heart eyes are winning you over → yn_ln you can’t say anything, lando lover → oscarpiastri 🙄

user12 replied girl, did you cover up James’ face? 😂

francolapinto replied is that me?? 

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Thumb scrolling down your feed, you couldn't stop the wounded look twisting your face. Numerous tweets glanced back at you, informing you that your teammate’s fans had a very low opinion of you. Was it really a shock that you wouldn’t like journalists hounding your teammate? Had you truly been that mean to him that signs of basic human decency came as a surprise?

The door to your driver’s room was cracked open slightly, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the disconsolate body that shuffled past. A cap covered his usual mop of curls and his head hung low. All he wanted was to hide away in his driver’s room. Away from the hustle and bustle of the garage. All alone. 

“Franco.”

A soft voice broke him from his sorrow. He’d never heard it say his name before, and he’d certainly never heard that gentle tone directed at him. His head snapped up in disbelief. Spinning around, he moved too fast and stumbled slightly. A pink flush decorated his cheeks, realising he’d just embarrassed himself in front of the woman finally talking to him. Your head poked out of the gap between your door and the wall. Almost hesitant to bridge the space between the two of you. You weren’t even fully aware of when you had moved, or decided to talk to him. But here you were, staring at his brown eyes, widened with scepticism.

Committing to your actions, you pushed yourself into the hallway. Unused to such close proximity to you, Franco took two shaky steps back. He could almost feel the wall behind him. 

“I heard about your grandfather. I just wanted to offer my condolences.” Your teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “The media were out of line this morning.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

Uncomfortable silence stretched between the pair of you. A need to fill it swelled within you.

“Nobody would blame you if you needed the day off. It’s not like we’re going to win any points in the Sprint.”

“I bet you’d like that. A race without me,” his tone was sharp, edged with grief. 

It was a stark contrast to the light, playful timbre you’d become accustomed to hearing around the garage. Hurt briefly flickered across your face, causing him to almost regret his words. But he’d had enough. 

He was tired. He was hurt, and he was not in the mood to be treated like he wasn’t there. Every day he hoped that you would finally speak to him. That you would smile at him, or share the glowing personality you had around the rest of the Grid. When he was still in F2, he’d been lucky enough to spend a day or two with you, and you’d been so warm and inviting. But, the person he was introduced to when he replaced Logan Sargeant hadn’t shown any sign of the person from before. 

“Wait, what? No. Franco, I just… Look, I found out from Twitter and-”

“It’s not like you give me the chance to tell you things in person.” 

Rubbing your hand over your face, you pondered whether you were doing more damage than good. All you wanted was to make amends, and not treat him like shit on a shitty day. Realising you couldn't make things worse, you decided to own up to your less-than-stellar behaviour. 

“Franco, I just wanted to say… I don’t really know what to say. Other than that, I am so incredibly sorry for the way that I’ve acted these past couple of weeks. Believe me, I’m not proud of my actions, and it’s been made very clear to me that I could be ruining your dream.” 

Your feet very subtly shifted closer to him, and his body was acutely aware of the smaller window of space between the two of you. The hairs on the back of his neck raised when the scent of your perfume invaded his nose. He loved that smell. 

“I’ve been so terrible to you. The internet knows that I’ve been terrible to you. And what makes it all that much worse, is that it doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”

Franco watched you inhale deeply before barrelling forward with your heartfelt apology. Your nose had pinkened from the exertion of your speech. Franco decided it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. 

“The truth is, I was angry. I was angry at the team, and the management, and the way they treated Logan was horrendous. But I didn’t realise that I was then doing the same thing to you, and I’m really sorry. I’m aware that none of this justifies my behaviour or makes it right but I just need you to know how much I regret what I’ve done. You’re so talented, Franco. If you had joined the team at any other time, I would’ve been flattered that you were so excited to be my teammate. I still am and-”

“Querida, breathe.” Franco’s lips curled in the corner. A small smile but the first time he had done so since yesterday. “I get it. You’re sorry. You were still mean though.” 

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate term he’d used. After years of working with Spanish drivers, you’d picked up a few words here and there. Unfortunately, his following words ruined any hope you’d felt. 

Scuffing your shoe against the floor, you avoided looking at him. “I know. I know. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

Franco reached out, taking your hand into his. His palm was warm and heated against your cold, almost clammy one. He was endeared by how nervous you seemed to be. At his touch, your head finally lifted to look at him. You were taken aback when your eyes met his, realising he was already staring at you. 

“You could always give me your seat.” He let out a booming laugh at the look of shock on your face. 

“Oh, I get it, you’re winding me up.” You pushed him away from you but your combined hands just ended up pulling you into him.” 

“I wasn’t lying in those interviews. You really are one of my idols. It’s going to take a bit more than a tantrum for me to be mad at you. However, if you really feel you need to make it up to me, I’m not going to object.” 

A body turned the corner, causing you to leap away from the Argentinian. His eyes twinkled as he did his best to keep his face neutral. You scrambled to compose yourself when John, your physiotherapist, glanced between the two of you. He raised his brows before walking past you and into your driver’s room. 

“You have 30 seconds, Yn, to finish your conversation and get your ass in here.” He closed the door behind him, allowing you some privacy. 

Franco turned to walk away, knowing you liked to run on a tight schedule, and not wanting to infringe on that when you seemed to be making a shaky form of peace.

“Dinner!” You blurted out, voice bouncing off the white plastic walls. 

Staring at his muscular back, you watched his shoulders shake with silent laughter before he turned back to look at you. 

“What about it?” 

“Do you eat it?” How were you making this worse!?

“Yes, every day.” 

He wasn’t making this easy on you. 

“Maybe, if you’re not busy this evening, I could buy you dinner when we get out of here.”

“It would have to be early. I don’t know if you know this but I have a very busy day tomorrow.”

“I think I prefer not talking to you.” 

“I’d love to have dinner with you, Cariño,” Franco smiled, “so long as you don’t spend the entire meal sullenly glaring at me. It seems to be a habit with you.”

An irritated shout of your name sounded from inside your room, reminding you that you were well past your allotted thirty seconds. 

Not wanting Franco to have the last word, you looked at Franco before you entered your room. “I’m not sorry that I snuck an LS2 cap into your pile of hats to sign.”

His face turns from pure adoration to unadulterated offence. “That was you?!” 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by jv.f1, lewishamilton and others 

its_yn my boy 💕

23,431 comments 

williamsracing took team bonding to a new level

→ francolapinto i aim to please 

user13 i knew that episode of team torque was carrying a different kind of tension

→ user14 no because he was so giggly and she was giving him full on banter 

→ user15 let’s not ignore how she kept blushing when she caught him looking at her

user16 she fell victim to the heart eyes

→ yn_ln how could i not? have you seen how intense they are? 

user17 oh no because now how do we tell who the biggest simp is 

francolapinto my lips are still waiting for that kiss

→ yn_ln come here then

→ francolapinto 🏃🏽🏃🏽💋

→ user18 oh no. now we have to deal with this instead 

logansargeant excuse me but where is his shirt in that last picture 

→ oscarpiastri completely scandalous behaviour. reported 

→ yn_ln piss off the pair of you 

→ logansargeant @/oscarpiastri pay up. she did my thing first 

→ oscarpiastri technically she did my thing first 

→ francolapinto she did both in the same day 

→ yn_ln franco!

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requests open. they may just take a while

coming soon; max taste part 3 and toto thirst

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @iloveyou3000morgan @justaf1girl

[lovegasmic]

──── . THE ONE WHO FELL FIRST, AND THE ONE WHO FELL HARDER ; SUKUNA × F!READER.

꒰ request : Sukuna is a popular businessman, nice to everyone but you, thinking you managed to plot everything to marry him. the wrong accusations only cause him to have conflicted emotions and unable to admit he's falling for you ꒱.

 𝜗𝜚 modern au ◞ angst to fluff / slow burn◞ forced marriage◞ reader is a business student and also comes from a slightly rich family◞ req from around august im so sorry ◞ 3K WORDS BABEY ★ taglist

wasting precious time in such a banal thing like your feelings, was something Sukuna was not willing to do.

time was money, and he knew you liked the latter, or else why would you even consider marrying him?

the deal was not yours or Sukuna’s idea, of course it had to be a dumb old man with equal old beliefs like “a man your age must be already married and stable” bullshit, Sukuna had enough wealth and health to be worrying about not finding a wife or getting onto procreating an heir.

but for the pink haired man, his investors were more important than his own family, so, he agreed.

and of course, one of them happened to be your own father.

the man was not stupid, with that hand rubbing and gruff voice while luring Sukuna into considering a marriage that would benefit both parties, almost like a leach attached to the pink haired by the hip until he gave in.

Sukuna knew you, of course he did, the pretty girl who tried to mingle in those boring business parties that were nothing but a place to brag about each one of their successful companies.

and you always were there, listening, almost as if testing who could be a suiting partner, the richest the better.

for him, you were just another money grubber on the list, truly a pretty girl like you must have thousands of suitors knocking on your door, yet you subtly but excitedly agreed on the deal, eyes almost shinning as if you were already imagining Sukuna’s millions in the bank

he scoffs at the thought, his idiotic self had to fall, didn’t he? right into the trap.

the champagne is a tad bitter due to the circumstances, the golden beverage that usually slid down his throat quite smoothly was now dry, leaving a gross aftertaste, perhaps the champagne was not the issue, but this whole fucked up lie.

hands clasped and congratulations were given, each one welcomed by a polite and quite charming smile from Sukuna, as if he was genuinely happy, although you knew otherwise.

the man was so kind, a bit stuck up like most businessmen, but that did not stop him from chit chatting with friends and other people in the business, asking about their families and such, to which you observed with a smile, genuinely happy to be found in a marriage with at least a decent man.

but when his attention turned to you, he was a whole new person, that smile fading and sticking to a stone cold mask that always stuck when speaking to you, solely to you.

“Sukuna—” you try, shoes clicking on the luxury wooden floor of his mansion, where you now resided as well, there was no honeymoon as you, —naively, expected, almost bouncing on your spot as the limousine drove away from the wedding reception, perhaps the cute lingerie set you got underneath will be useful.

but no, how your heart crushed upon the sight of the mansion, nor a helicopter or private jet to take you to some sort of fancy and private spot. instead, all you got was silent as Sukuna climbed off the car, already loosening his tie as soon as the butler opened the door, your hurried steps behind and the limo’s trunk filled with your belongings.

“let the butler show you your room” is what he interrupts with, the suit jacket tossed onto a nearby couch which a maid was quick to fold, almost making your face burn in embarrassment at your husband’s dismissal in front of other people.

you stop for a second, blinking confused before following him still, “my room? what do you mean with my room? aren’t we sleeping in the same bedroom?”

how naive, and Sukuna’s scoff followed by a cruel laugh is just adding onto your embarrassment, “i don’t believe so, sweetheart” that last word sounds so cruel right now, “you already got the fame and money you wanted, i’m not going to indulge your spoiled princess whims” 

the door slams shut and you freeze, unsure about what just happened.

the first night was unnecessarily cold, the lingerie forgotten in an empty drawer and the luggage you brought from home all stacked up in a corner of the wide room, everything lacked of color, of life, there was no wall decors, white sheets and comforters, beige curtains against boring beige walls, and of course, the warmth of the man you have longed for so long was missing.

deciding to blame the wedding nerves on Sukuna’s foul mood from the day before, making the bed and opening the curtains to allow the gentle breeze in from a barely open window that had a perfect view to the perfect backyard garden and pool.

the day was beautiful, and so you joined the chef to chat a little meanwhile Sukuna came downstairs with a serious expression like the day before, “good morning” is all he says before sitting down on the dining table, not sparing you another glance or waiting for you to sit as well as he already began on his breakfast.

“good morning, did you sleep well?” you try, again, and fail, again, since Sukuna doesn’t even reply, wiping his lips with a smooth movement that your eyes longer on, “the room you gave me is quite nice” your brain begs you to stop talking, “i just thought it’s a bit too dull, don’t you agree?”

“...” 

“maybe we can buy some decorations, or if you’re too busy I can do it on my own!”

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

you blink, once, twice, “excuse me?”

“nothing” he stands up, the chair dragging on the ground and a napkin left on the emoji plate, “i have business to attend to, don’t bother me” with a thank you to the chef, Sukuna leaves again towards what you think must be his home office.

what you don’t know is the fact that Sukuna double checks all of his credit cards to be in place, muttering a “that damn gold digger woman”

life with Sukuna was not going to be as quiet and calm as you thought, almost two days later after your first night at your new home, Sukuna brought in the news of some charity ball you ‘had’ to attend to, of course, a place to show around how your marriage was perfectly fine, how he was stable like those dumb old men said, but at least, the appearance of a married man will definitely be successful for future partnerships.

with a mental slap, the pink haired man turned on his spot as soon as you walked down the stairs, looking ethereal with the dress he got you under the threat of “not wanting you to embarrass him” a longer look and he would have probably said something nice, and you did not deserve it.

“let’s go” he says gruff, not even opening the Benz door for you to climb in, but you did not mind, you were not really expecting anything from him anymore.

“you look good” is what you say instead, and his hands clench a little around the wheel, keeping his eyes ahead without a response.

for a second you wondered if Sukuna had some sort of double personality, he was cold and serious to you, but as soon as you stepped into the gala, his hand tightened on your waist, and a kind and even soft smile plastered on his face while greeting the other guests.

your parents were there, and your husband simply rolled his eyes at the sight of your father sporting a self praising smile at the sight of your fancy attire and multiple diamond jewels decorating your neck, wrist and fingers. 

unable to deny how well you behaved yourself, and so as the hours passed, his thumb unconsciously began to rub up and down on your waist, chatting with a casual and soft look that made your heart skip a beat. this was the man you fell in love with.

a little too good to be truth, since as soon as you got back home, the usual stoic Sukuna came back, “perhaps you’re not as useless as I thought”

that should not have hurt as much as it did, you were already used to Sukuna’s dismissals, to his mean comments about wanting to suck his money like some sort of leech, about how you should stick to your own business and stop pestering him, but that really hurt.

so this time, it’s you who turns and leaves. 

a little shaky sigh leaves his lips, splashing cold water onto his face to ease the strange thoughts inside his head, was he too mean? that can’t be, you deserve it, you were nothing but a gold digger, a walking… temptation.

“fuck…” he grips the bathroom sink until his knuckles turn white, the previous night kept repeating on his head, over and over again, the look on your eyes, his harsh words and the way you left without a word, why did his heart was thumping so hard?

with another curse he leaves his room, grumbling and sliding his fingers through his hair to comb it back, just to stand frozen on his spot at the sight of you all dressed and holding a bag on your shoulder, “where are you going?” the words leave before he can stop them.

the look on your eyes is a bit duller than usual and that hurts bad, “to school” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing.

“what—” 

“i’m running late, we’ll talk later” and you leave just like that, leaving Sukuna with a frown and a look of disbelief that pushes the previous guilt to the back of his head.

“this damn brat”

although it was barely a week after your wedding, the whole attention his employees have you was, overwhelming, with big smiles and attentions showered as soon as you stepped into the fancy building, swinging your bag over your shoulder as a lovely, and way too cheerful, —probably fake, woman guided you to the elevator, explaining which floor to take to meet your husband.

you scoff inwardly, you’ve been to this building multiple times in the past, although just as a shadow, as a nobody, now that the boss was your husband everything was awfully over the top.

“sit, and explain” straight to the point, how kind was your husband.

with a sigh and a click of the door you sit on the chair opposite to his desk, “i told you I was going to school”

“what does that even fucking mean? are you a teacher? student? I truly hope you don’t mean highschool or i’m sending you to jail”

“what the…, no, of course not, I mean university, ugh”

“that’s better” his shoulders relax back but his eyes are still narrowed and hands in front of him, it was a bit funny, “explain”

“you really don’t know anything, do you?” you lean back and hum, “i’m at two semesters from getting my business degree” 

“why haven’t you told me?”

“you never asked” you swear Sukuna’s eye twitches slightly.

“from now on I don’t want you to keep secrets from me, you’re my wife, I must know”

“oh, so i’m your wife now?”

another twitch, “you are my wife, whether we like it or not”

whether we like it or not. those words kept replaying, you liked it, or at least that is what you thought before. 

your younger self would have been giggling and kicking her feet at the sole thought of marrying Sukuna, the man you admired and observed from afar when you were still a bit too young to approach him, barely out of highschool and your inner self longed for the man, saving his pictures on your phone and setting it as screensaver.

how ridiculous, you now thought, closing the first magazine you bought and sliding it under your pillow, the one that, of course, had Sukuna on the cover, and the one that inspired you to follow his path and get into business school.

fairy tales were now ridiculous, what you thought could be a perfect life with the man of your dreams turned into morning and goodnight greetings alongside some forced chats and questions about whereabouts.

but instead of sulking, you did what was best, shop.

the sudden sound of voices outside brought Sukuna from his thoughts and piles of paperwork, immediately standing up to step into the living room, only to be greeted by the sight of multiple men carrying boxes inside the house, “what the fuck is all this?” he asks with a low and almost scary tone, one to which you’ve grown used to.

“decoration for the house, I told you I was going to buy it” you reply nonchalant, and Sukuna couldn’t deny the way you look kinda cute with that rolled up sleeves shirt and overalls, like damn bob the builder.

unconsciously Sukuna taps his back pocket, checking his wallet, “i mean, with what money you got all this?”

“huh? with mine, obviously” 

“your what?”

“what? did you seriously think I lived from your money? please, I am very dependable, thank you very much” you scoff with a frown, Sukuna did not had to know the many business you invested in with a capital from your father, which you obviously paid back and now the percentages of profit in said business just kept increasing to your good luck.

“i didn’t mean—” no, he totally did mean to imply you are a gold digger, but now… with this, things were a bit different.

he scratches his cheek, standing next to you with his towering form as you observe the boxes getting placed into the living room, yet the pink haired’s eyes remain on your side, on the way your brows are knitted in annoyance and the soft cute pout on your mouth.

you mess with his head, and now with his house, wonderful.

so ask him why he’s unpacking boxes and moving the few paintings you bought according to your commands, “up, up, a little to the right, a little more, there, perfect!” you beam and climb onto the stool to hammer a nail into the wall and allow Sukuna to hang the painting. 

the maids, the butler are all gone under Sukuna’s order, and most likely gossiping over the development of the couple’s relationship.

“i should sue you for making me work unpaid” for the first time, Sukuna teases, slumped on the couch with his shirt a bit unbuttoned and his eyes locked on the way you placed a few cat like ceramics near the chimney, under the large picture frame of your wedding.

“you are soooo exaggerated” you roll your eyes with a little chuckle, “you won’t die from a little bit of hand work” 

“maybe not, but my hands will get calloused because of you”

“oh, i’m sorry i’m messing with your princess hands, I will give you my creams if that makes you happy”

his smirk widens, “hey, the only princess here is you” 

it really is the little details, month after month, and you notice how his behavior is slowly improving, he is no longer mean or cold, nor he leaves you speaking to yourself anymore, surprisingly he joins you on the couch now, with an arm around the back of it and over your head, yet sometimes you feel his fingers playing with the hair at the top of your head.

he is smiling, big and happy with a package under his arm, he remembers when you bought items for the house, but the floral silky set of sheets you wanted ran out of stock before you could get it, and the defeated look on your face haven’t left since.

he is a good husband, the best husband you could ask for!

“wait” where did that thought even came from?, and why was his face slightly hot, shit, shit.

never mind, he keeps mumbling to himself, hurrying to your bedroom before you arrive from your classes and is quick to undo your bed to change it into the cute sheets set.

but as he is hasty tugging the fabric, something comes flying from under your pillow.

he kneels to grab it, and his face just shows shock at the sight of it, he remembers that too well, the first magazine cover he ever did, his most proud moment and you had a copy, all those years, and so he turns the pages until it lands on the column, there's stickers and pink pen scribbles around, some words highlighted and even one or two hearts drawn around.

the pen ink was slightly worn out as if it was written years ago, and the idea makes his heart clench.

“... got some from the store, where are yo—” you both stand frozen, eyes on each other and the mess of sheets, fuck the surprise, “what are you doing?” your heart drops at the sight of Sukuna’s awestruck expression while holding the magazine open, “t-that’s personal, you know?”

“i- know, I should not have but…, when did you write this?”

how unavoidable was the conversation, “like two years ago” your gaze drifts to a side.

“did you… were you in love with me or something?” he gulps.

what was the point of denying it anymore, so you nod.

“where you or… are you?” and you softly nod again, avoiding his gaze.

“fuck” he mutters, sliding a hand through his hair in frustration, “fuck, i’m sorry”

“huh? what—”

for the second time you can’t finish a sentence before Sukuna is stomping to you, an arm around your waist and the other on your cheek before your lips clash together, it’s tender but also raw and needy.

“i’m sorry, i should have never been so rude to you, I was an idiot and thought you just wanted my money” even after the kiss he does not let you go.

“what? but I never asked for a penny”

“i know” he says even a tad frustrated, “i know, i should have trusted you”

“it’s okay, I mean, I would also be suspicious of someone who suddenly agreed to marry me without even knowing each other”

“but still…” he is still not letting you downplay the situation and his part of blame.

“Kuna, I promise it’s okay” you smile just like you always do that makes his heart melt, “i love you, and that’s all it matters”

a soft sigh leaves him, sliding a palm over your cheek, and suddenly the ring on his finger is just the perfect color that contrast your skin, “yeah, I love you too”

additional part of Sukuna finding the lingerie lmao

[madebycloud]

Ex at New Year

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: a second chance at love. a first chance at happiness. the love of your life is knocking at your door. do you let them in? warnings/themes: fluff and angst, ex lovers, breakup, new years eve, pining lmao, a lot of flashbacks, slightly suggestive, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au, mentions of: smoking, drinking, vi is DOWN BAD! serenading you with a boombox in the rain? yes please words: 24.7k (hell yeah...?) notes: i swear this is so fking sappy man like a hallmark christmas movie or smth like that... forced myself to NOT pull a 'past lives' ending. nyways my friend told me to listen to "ocean's & engines" just to write an angst so yeah... — ✩ part one, part two

The walk to your apartment is a quiet one, neither of you speaking a word. You're both lost in your own thoughts, the only sound being the soft scraping of your shoes on the sidewalk. Finally, you reach your apartment building. You stop in front of the door—the same door she slammed shut and left you behind three months ago.

Your hand automatically reaches for your keys, but your fingers linger, not yet grabbing them.

“So, this is it, huh?”

You nod, your eyes still trained on the door in front of you. “Yeah.”

There's a pause. A long pause before Vi speaks again, “Good night.”

This sucks.

“Good night,” you murmur.

She hesitates, like she wants to say something more. But she doesn't. With a nod, she turns and starts walking away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, finally reaching into your pocket and grabbing your keys. You put the key in the lock and twist the doorknob. The door opens with a soft click, and you're face to face with your lonely apartment. It's dark inside, save for the light that comes in through the window. You step inside, shutting the door behind you.

You take off your shoes, kicking them off to the side. You drag yourself over to your bed, slumping down against the footboard. Your hand fishes into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

Scrolling through your phone, you notice a notification from your mother, sent an hour ago. “How's Vander's Christmas party?” it reads.

You sigh, not really wanting to respond. It's already 1am, but you decide to give your mother a call anyway. After a few rings, she picks up.

“Hello?” her voice rings through the speaker. You can hear the faint noise of a TV in the background.

“Still up watching your favorite show?” 

“You know me,” she replies. “Your father is asleep already,” she pauses before asking, “You're going to come over today, right? I'll cook your favorite dish. You better.”

“Yes, I won't miss it,” your fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your sheets.

She hums on the other side of the line. “How was Christmas Eve at Vander's, by the way?”

You shrug, even though she can't see you. “It was pretty good,” you answer. “Food was good. Mylo and Powder are rowdy as always.”

“Oh, I could imagine,” your mother chuckles. “What about-” suddenly she stops, cutting herself off. “How was... how was Vi?”

You hesitate before answering. “She was... fine.”

There's a long pause, the sound of the TV filling the silence. Finally, she speaks. “And how was it, seeing her again?”

You exhale, staring up at the ceiling. “It was fine,” you say again. “It was just... fine.”

She hums, hearing the lie in your tone. But she doesn't push, not this time. “I see…”

After a moment of silence, you ask, “Mom, can I ask you something?”

Your mother pauses. She senses the seriousness in your tone. “Of course, sweetheart,” she says, the TV shutting off in the background.

You swallow, fiddling with the loose thread on your sheets again. “Hypothetically speaking…” you start. “If an ex asked for another chance... would you give them one? I mean, despite everything that's happened.”

There's a deep breath from the other side of the line, followed by a thoughtful hum. “Hypothetically speaking…” she echoes. “I suppose it would depend on why the relationship ended in the first place.”

“But let's say... hypothetically speaking…” you pause. This is going to sound ridiculous. “You have no idea why they walked away. They just... left, and then they turned up a couple months later, asking for another chance. Would you still let them in?”

Your mom takes a moment to answer. “Hypothetically speaking…” she finally replies. “I think if someone wanted another chance, the least you could do is hear them out. Find out the reason they walked away in the first place.”

“But... isn't that just asking for heartbreak all over again?”

“Not necessarily,” your mom says. “Maybe they finally realized how much they still... care for you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your knuckles against them. “But what if... what if they leave again? what if they change their mind?”

“I suppose that's a risk you'd have to be willing to take.”

“I don't know if I can go through something like that again.”

“Listen, honey,” you can almost hear her shaking her head. “If you don't try... how will you know?”

“I just... don't want to get hurt again,” you say, your voice quivering.

Your mother sighs. “Sometimes taking risks is worth it.” She's quiet for a moment before continuing, “Sometimes people make mistakes. They leave, they come back, they leave again, they come back again... but that's what happens when it comes to love. It's messy, complicated, and sometimes it hurts like hell, but it's also the most beautiful and powerful thing in the world.”

You chew on your lip. “I'm so scared, mom,” you admit. “I don't really know what to do.”

There's another pause, then her voice softens. “Remember when you were six, and you wouldn't go on the big slide at the park?”

You frown, her sudden question confusing you. “Yeah?”

“Remember what I told you?”

Thinking back, you recall the memory. Young you, clutching your mom's hand as the other kids swarmed the slide. You were shaking, too scared you'd fall. Her voice drifts through your memory. “I told you that sometimes it's okay to be scared, but you won't know if you like something if you don't try.”

“Besides,” she had said with a smile. “I'll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You remember how you nodded then, letting go of her hand and slowly making your way up. You're trembling as you stand at the top of the slide, preparing yourself to go.

Your mother's gentle smile, her encouraging words. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Before you knew it, you were off. You were flying, wind in your hair, laughter bursting from your lips. By the time you reached the bottom, any fear you had was replaced with pure happiness.

True to her word, your mom was there to catch you at the end.

“You loved the slide after that,” she chuckles. “You went down it countless times, right until we had to go home, and I'll tell you now…” Her voice turns serious again. “Even if you're scared and you fall, I'll be right here to catch you, okay?”

“I…” You can feel yourself starting to tear up. “Okay,” you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

She gives a hum, and you can almost see her nodding. “There's my brave girl,” your mom says, a smile in her voice. “Get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah... okay.” you take a shaky breath. “Thanks, mom. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you. Don't stay up too late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smile, though it fades quickly. “Love you too.”

You hang up, setting your phone down on the bedside table. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. You push yourself from the footboard and make your way to your bed. Crawling onto your stomach, you bury your face deep into your pillow and groan.

Taking risks, giving second chances, hoping for the best, fearing the worst...

You just wish you could shut it all off and just sleep.

—

3 MONTHS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE BREAKUP

You sat at the kitchen table, picking at your dinner halfheartedly. You glanced up at Vi, who sat across from you. Her plate of food hardly touched. She's avoiding your gaze. She's just right in front of you, and yet she feels as if she's millions of miles away.

“We need to talk about what's going on with us.”

Vi didn't even bother to look at you. She continues to push her food around her plate.

You slammed your hand down on the table, a loud clang breaking the quiet room. “Don't ignore me.”

That got her looking up to you. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You know damn well what I want to talk about,” you snap, “this. this." you gesture between you and her.

Vi stands up suddenly, pushing her plate away from her. “I'm tired,” she mutters, avoiding your gaze. 

“Tired of what?” you stand up as well, eyes narrowing. “Tired of this, of us?”

Vi sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Can we not talk about this?’ she says. “I'm just... I'm not in the mood right now, okay?”

It has become a familiar habit. Every time you tried to address the issue, to have a serious conversation about the state of your relationship, Vi would shut down. She would do everything in her power to avoid facing the problem.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “You've said that every time I try to talk, 'I'm not in the mood', 'Let's talk later', 'Can this wait?'” you mimic her voice. “If we're not gonna talk about this, then when?”

“I don't feel like talking right now!”

“That's the thing! there's never a time that you feel like talking. You always have an excuse, or you brush it off like it's nothing, like our relationship is nothing.”

“That's not true!” Vi snaps back, clenching her jaw. “I care about you and this relationship.”

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?” you interrupt. “You refuse to talk, you distance yourself from me, you dodge every attempt I make to connect. You're pushing me away every chance you get.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm not pushing you away,” Vi says. “I just need some space sometimes, I need to think.” Her tone softens, expression shifting from irritation to something closer to pleading. “Can you give me that at least? just some time to myself to process things.”

“Time to process things,” you repeat. “What things, Vi? see? this is what I'm talking about. You keep everything bottled up, and you never talk to me about it. I can't read your mind, and I can't fix what I don't know. I'm your girlfriend, and yet you treat me like some stranger.”

“What do you want me to say?!” Vi explodes, her voice echoing in the kitchen. “You want me to just pour out my heart and soul to you? spill all my problems and insecurities like some open book? is that what you want?!”

“Yes!” you snap, voice just as loud as hers. “I want you to talk to me! I want you to trust me enough to share what's going on in that head of yours! I can't keep going on like this, walking on eggshells, never knowing if I'm going to say or do something that's gonna piss you off.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to you all the time,” Vi says. “Maybe I don't want to burden you with all my crap all the time. Maybe I just want some time to myself to deal with it on my own.”

“Of course you don't.” It’s sarcasm, pure and simple. “You're Vi, too tough for feelings and emotions. God forbid you show some weakness. You're so tough and strong and independent, you can handle everything on your own.” “This is why I don't talk to you,” Vi exclaims. “Because I know you'll turn it around on me, you'll make it out like I'm the one that needs fixing. You're so quick to assume the worst in me, to assume that I'm the problem. Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—you're the one who's being too clingy, too needy, too-”

“Too what?” you interrupt. “Say it, Vi. I'm too clingy? too needy? go on, get it out. You've wanted to say it for a while—so say it.”

“You're too much!” Vi blurts out. 

“Too much,” you repeat. “I'm too much.” It came out like a scoff. “I'm too much for trying to get you to open up? I'm too much for trying to save this damn relationship? I'm too much for wanting you to fucking talk to me?! I'm just trying to have a damn conversation, but apparently that's too much for you to handle.”

“Yeah, because everything you're saying is bullshit,” Vi retorts. “All you ever do is criticize me and bring up the same crap over and over again. You don't actually want to fix anything. You just want to complain about how I'm not living up to your perfect vision of a partner.”

“Oh my god,” you rub your temples. “My perfect vision of a partner? really? really? I'm not asking for the damn stars and moon. I'm asking for the bare minimum. I'm asking for basic communication. I'm asking for emotional connection. How's that a perfect vision'? How's that being too needy?”

“I wouldn't have to keep bringing up the same crap if you would just talk to me. I wouldn't have to repeat myself. We wouldn't be having this same damn fight again and again if you would just-” you stop yourself, taking a breath. “You know what? no. I'm done. I'm done with this. I'm done with trying to pull teeth, to drag anything meaningful out of you.”

You pace back and forth. “I've been trying to be a good girlfriend. I've given you space, I've been patient. I've listened, I've supported, and I've tried to give you what you needed. But it's never enough, is it? it's always about your space, your needs, your feelings. But what about mine? what about what I need? or does that not matter, because I'm just the clingy, needy girlfriend?”

“Well, screw that!” you continue. “Screw the fact that this whole thing has been tearing me apart from the inside out. Screw the fact that I'm miserable because I'm not even sure if you still love me. Screw the fact that I've been crying every damn night, wondering what I did to mess us up this badly.” You want to scream, to throw something, to run until your lungs burn. “Screw the fact that I can't even sleep at night because all I can think about is our fights. I can't even focus on work because all I can think about is what's going on between us.” 

You pause, choking on the lump in your throat. “But I guess you don't care about any of that, huh? because I'm just the needy one? I'm just the emotional one, the one who's too goddamn sensitive.” You press your palms against your eyes, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I'm sick of this. I'm sick of feeling like I'm in this relationship all on my own. I'm sick of feeling like you'd be happier if I wasn't even here. I'm sick of feeling worthless.”

The tears start to fall. You wipe furiously at your face, but it was no use. They were quickly replaced with new ones. “I just want you to want me.” You choke back a sob. “I want you to want to share things with me. I want you to want to open up. I don't want to have to drag things out of you. I don't want to have to beg for your love and attention.”

“I'm so damn tired of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself tight. “Or maybe…” you say, hiccupping in between sobs. “Maybe I'm just not good enough at all. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm the reason you can't open up, can't bear to let me get close, and maybe—maybe I'm the problem.”

“I just…” you begin, and your voice shakes so much, it's hard to get the words out. “I just want to be enough.”

“I want you to see me,” you continue, hugging yourself tight. Your nails are digging into the flesh of your arms. Anything to keep yourself from falling apart. “I just want you to see that I can be what you need, that I'm enough for you, but no matter what I do, it's not enough. I'm not enough for you. I'm… I will never be enough.” 

You drop your hands to your sides, clenching them into tight fists to stop yourself from reaching for her. You're trying so hard to hold yourself together, but it's not working. You're breaking, you're shattering, you're crying so hard you can barely speak.

“Maybe we shouldn't be together.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. You don't think she'll go there, but here she is, talking about breaking up.

“What?” you force out, voice cracking. “Is that what you want?”

“I don't know,” she says, still not looking at you. “You need someone who can give you what you need, someone who's not so broken and messed up and damaged-” she clenched her jaw tightly, hating every word that left her mouth. “You'll find someone better. I know you will.”

Everything started to spin. You couldn't breathe. You feel like you were spiraling, grasping at straws, doing anything to reach her, to connect with her. This was happening, it was really happening—you were losing her. 

“You're serious,” you whisper. “You really want to break up.”

A part of you had been holding on to the hope that she'd change her mind, that she'd take back what she said. that this is some sort of prank and for her to burst out laughing and say 'gotcha!'.

but with each second of silence that passed, that hope was slowly dying.

You try to steady your voice to keep control. “If that's what you really want, then fine. Break up with me. Leave. Go be happy without me.”

“Okay.” And just like that, the fragile string that had been holding everything together snapped.

Vi walks to the door, her movements so slow. It's like she's in a trance, or maybe you are, because time seemed to slow down. This couldn't be happening. Please, tell me this is just a bad dream. But it isn't. It is real. It is happening.

You couldn't let her go like this. You couldn't let her walk out the door and out of your life without a fight. You had to stop her, you had to, you had to—

Your hand lasts out, grabbing her arm. “Please,” you beg. “Don't do this. We can talk, we can figure it out.”

Her hand paused, hovering over the door. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face you.

“Don't... please,” you plead. “Don't just throw this away. We can work through this, we can fix it. We just need to talk.”

You're not above begging, not if it meant keeping her from walking out that door. You had pride once, but it has shattered into pieces. Now you are just a trembling, broken mess, desperate to keep her with you.

You desperately want her to turn around and look at you. To see that this wasn't what you wanted, that you didn't want things to end like this. “Violet, please,” you repeat. “I love you. I love you, please don't—please don't leave me.”

“There's nothing left to talk about,” she says. “There's nothing to fix. We're over. Done.”

All the hope, all the love, all the dreams you'd had together—it was all falling apart in front of you. Because Vi, the woman you were sworn to spend the rest of your life with, is walking out that damn door, leaving you alone in the silence of the apartment.

This can't be real. It has to be a nightmare. You will wake up, and she'll be there beside you, holding you like she always did.

You found yourself looking around, half expecting to see her sitting on the couch or coming out of the kitchen. But she's not there. She's not here.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. You stumble back until you hit a wall and slide down to the floor. Your hands came up to your face, trying to hold yourself together. You can't stop the tears or the sobs that wracked your body. You can't stop wishing she’s still here with you, in your arms, where she belonged.

You clutch at the thin fabric of your shirt. It hurts, everything hurts. Your head, your chest, your heart. You can't remember ever feeling like this. You can't remember ever feeling so alone and broken. You curl up on the floor, your whole body shaking, your tears leaving dark spots on the hardwood floor.

Every memory you had of you and Vi flashes through your mind. Your first date, your first kiss, your first time. All the happy memories, the laughter, the love.

But all of it was tainted now, stained by the knowledge that it is over.

You thought you knew pain before, but this... this is a new level of hell.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

“You fucked up.”

“Thanks, Powder. Real insightful,” Vi mutters, rubbing her forehead. She's sitting in an armchair, surrounded by her family.

Claggor shifts in his seat, Mylo just rolls his eyes, and Silco and Vander exchange a glance.

“Hey, come on. Don't be so hard on Vi,” Claggor says, eyebrows furrowing.

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, she's already down after ending her four-year relationship. No need to pile on.”

Powder just shrugs. “I'm just saying what we're all thinking.”

Caggor sighs. “Let's just... drop the topic of the breakup, alright? it's in the past. There's nothing we can do about it now.”

Vander nods, a pensive look on his face. Mylo slouches back against the couch. “What's the point of us all sitting here bitching about it? it's not gonna change anything.”

Powder huffs. “I still think Vi should've handled it differently.”

“And I still think you should mind your own damn business,” Vi mutters, glaring at Powder.

Claggor glances at Silco and Vander, silently pleading with them to step in before it becomes an all-out argument. but neither of them say anything.

“What would you have done differently?” Powder snaps. 

Mylo leans forward in his seat. “This should be good.”

Claggor just rubs at his temples. This is going to turn into a shouting match.

Vander leans his elbows on his knees, sighing. “Alright, let's all just calm down-”

“We are calm,” both Vi and Powder say at the same time. They both glance at each other, and Vi frowns.

“Oh yeah, sure, real calm.” Vi scoffs.

Vander rubs his face. “Can we all just chill-”

“No!” Powder snaps. “I'm not gonna chill! Vi just-”

Mylo grins. “This is great. It's like a soap opera.”

Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you both stop arguing?”

Powder is glaring defiantly at Vi. “No, I'm not going to stop. You need to listen-”

“Oh, I need to listen? you're the one-”

Vander cuts them off. “Both of you, shut your damn mouths!”

The room falls silent. Everyone looks at Vander. Powder huffs, slouching back on the couch. Silco gives Vander a nod of appreciation.

Claggor looks relieved the arguing is over... for now, anyway. Mylo is visibly disappointed. “Man, I was just about to get the popcorn.”

Vander glances around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. “You three, get out.”

“Hey!” Powder protests.

Mylo grumbles, “Why do we-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting Mylo off. “No arguing. Get out. Now.”

Powder grumbles, shooting a glare in Vi's direction before storming out of the room. Claggor and Mylo follow, both of them looking slightly offended. The room falls silent once the door shuts behind Claggor.

Silco sits quietly, his hands folded in his lap. Vi looks at him for a moment before shifting her glare to the carpet.

Vander sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Christ,” he mutters. He looks tired, which is understandable. “Now, can we have an actual civil conversation this time?” No one says anything, so Vander takes that as a yes. He glances at Silco, a silent question in his eyes. Silco looks at Vi for a moment before turning to Vander and giving a slight nod. Vander sighs, sitting back in his armchair. “Alright, I'm just going to say it. Why didn't you tell us?”

Vi glances up, her eyes meeting Vander's. There's a pause before she speaks. “Because,” she starts. “I...I didn't want to deal with all this bullshit,” she gestures around the room. “I knew you'd all react this way, and…” she trails off, rubbing at her face.

Silco chuckles. “You thought you could just avoid dealing with it?”

Vander shoots him a glare.

Vi sighs, sinking into the armchair. “Look, I know I should have told you all sooner, alright? but I was-”

“Being a coward?”

She clenches her jaw, and she snaps, “I wasn't being a coward. I was just…”

“Stalling,” Silco adds, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine. I was stalling. Are you happy now? i didn't want to deal with the questions, or the pity, or the-”

“You didn't want to deal with the support?” Vander interrupts,

Vi looks at the carpet, her hands clenching into fists. “I don't need the support, okay? I'm doing fine on my own.”

Silco snorts. “Clearly you were really fine.”

Vander shakes his head. “Vi, we're a family. You should have come to us-”

Vi snaps, standing up. “And what could you have done, huh? would you have fixed my relationship? found me someone new?”

Vander opens his mouth to respond but closes it.

Vi throws her hands up. “Exactly. Nothing. I didn't tell you all because it'd be pointless. Because it's just a breakup. It's over. There's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past, so why does it-”

Vander cuts her off. “Why does it matter? is that what you were about to say?”

Vi's shoulders sag, and she nods.

Vander stands up as well and stares her down. “It matters because—because we care. Because you shut us out, because you made us think you were fine, when you were not.”

Vi scowls, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why does it matter? why do you all care so damn much?”

“Maybe because you've been moping around for a month,” Silco says. 

Vi looks around the room. “So, wait a minute, you knew?”

“'Course we knew. You think you're good at hiding things?” Silco raises an eyebrow. 

Vander sighs, ignoring Silco's comment. “We just don't want to push you.”

“Well, that explains it.” Vi glares at them both. "That explains why you invited her here."

Vander and Silco exchange a glance. “Vander and I... we both knew your little play,” Silco scoffs, lounging in his chair. 

Vi's eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”

“We just wanted to see how long you'd keep this up.”

Vi is stunned, her arms falling to her sides. “You all just... let me make a fool of myself?”

“You were doing that on your own,” Silco adds.

Vi sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I...it's for the sake of appearances, okay?” she scowls, hating that she has to even explain herself. “Because I didn't want all this bullshit over the holidays. It's Christmas. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for everyone.”

Silco stands up from his chair. “You were worried about us? you had to fake a relationship just to keep us happy?” he shakes his head. “What are we, children?”

Vi frowns. “That's not-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting her off. “No, Silco's right. You do treat us like children.”

Silco scoffs. “You always act like you're responsible for everyone, that you have to keep us all happy. When are you going to realize that we're adults? We can handle things ourselves. You don't have to fake a damn relationship just to make us happy.”

Vander sighs. “You think we can't handle knowing about your breakup? that we'll break if things aren't perfect?”

Silco walks around, sliding a hand through his hair. “You act like everything's your fault, like you're responsible for all of us. When are you going to stop acting like a damn martyr?”

Vi says nothing, just clenches her jaw.

“You do this all the time, hiding when you're not okay, pretending that you're fine. Do you even realize how much damage you're doing to yourself?”

Vander nods, stepping forward to look Vi in the eye. “You're driving yourself crazy. You need to learn to let us take care of you for once.” He gently squeezes her bicep. “You need to stop trying to protect everyone. Start worrying about yourself for once.”

“I just didn't want to burden anyone,” Vi whispers.

“Stop acting like you're a burden. You're not a burden, Vi. We care about you. We want to help you.” Silco lets out a huff, “We're family. You should be depending on us. You can lean on us occasionally without the world falling apart.”

Vander gently squeezes Vi's shoulder. “We'll do anything for you, darling, but you gotta let us help you sometimes.”

Vi closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She hates crying in front of them, hates letting them see her like this.

Silco sighs, leaning over to gently dab the tear away with his thumb. “Stop being so damn stubborn, girl. You don't have to handle things on your own.”

Vander gently kisses the top of her head. “You're not alone, Vi. We're here for you. Always.”

Vi sniffs, blinking to stop the tears from continuing.

Vander pulls her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her. “You're not making us miserable, okay? you don't gotta be perfect. Just be you. You're enough for us, kid.”

Vi nods, burying her face in Vander's chest. Silco rubs her back. Vander pulls back from the hug, holding Vi by the shoulders. “Now, we've talked about you,” he says. “What's going on between you and your girl?”

“We talked,” she mumbles. “I asked her to...give me another chance. To fix things…”

Vander and Silco share a look, a smirk on Silco's face. Vander clears his throat. “And what did she say?”

“She said...she'll think about it.”

Vander nods, while Silco's smirk widens. “Is that so?” he hums. “You finally grew some balls and asked her.”

Vi shoots Silco a glare. “You don't know a damn thing,” she grumbles, her cheeks burning.

“It's a step in the right direction, regardless.” Vander pats Vi on the back. “If she says she'll think about it, then she's considering it.”

“And if they say yes…” Silco says, then he glances at Vander, the two sharing a chuckle.

Vander pats Vi on the back again. “Then you'll get your girl back.” He pokes her cheek. “So, don't give up. Don't lose hope.”

Silco grins, “We just have to wait.”

“Waiting.”

“Which you're not so great with,” Silco snorts. “Anyway, if she says yes, remember to thank us.”

“You guys didn't do anything.” 

Vander and Silco share a smirk, the same thought clearly going through their minds.

Vander grins. “We didn't do anything at all.”

Silco nods. “Absolutely nothing.”

—

1 MONTH BEFORE THE BREAK UP, MARRIAGE

You're lying your head on Vi's lap, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through your hair. You look up at her, watching her face as you speak, “Hey Vi?”

She pauses, her fingers falling still for a moment. She looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” she says, her hands resuming at running through your hair.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?”

Her fingers stills, just a tiny flinch that she quickly tried to hide. But you noticed.  “Not much.” Vi shrugs. “What about you?”

You can hear the way her heart is thudding, how her words sound so strained. You reach up and take one of her hands, gently running your fingers across the back of it. You see her reaction. The way her eyes widen and her jaw is tense. It's not hard not to notice—you're literally lying on her lap, looking up at her. The topic of marriage suddenly came up out of nowhere.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, actually... marriage, I mean.”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah..”

You're mentally freaking out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel how your stomach is doing backflips. You want to desperately know what she's thinking. Are you freaking her out? what is going on in her head? is she disgusted at the thought of marrying you?

“Is that so?”

She is trying so damn hard to sound unphased, but you know her too well. You know her body language, the way her ears go slightly red when she is flustered, how tense her muscles become when she is nervous. 

“Just wondering what it'd be like, I guess,” you continue. You shift on your spot. The feeling of her fingers running through your hair is pleasant, but it is so hard to focus on that feeling when your stomach is flipping over itself every few seconds. “I'm just curious,” you add. “I can't help picturing it and wondering what it'd be like to marry you someday.”

Vi is silent for a moment, her fingers stopping in your hair. She licks her lips, trying to come up with a response. “Marriage,” she says again. “That's uhh…” she swallows, trying to compose herself. She starts playing with your hair again, trying to give her hands something to do to hide the way they are shaking. “It's a big deal.” She pauses. “Why—why are you even thinking about that stuff? we're too young.”

The only sound you can hear is the thump of your heart in your ears. You can feel yourself start to feel nauseous. This is the conversation you wanted to have, but now that it is actually happening, you wish you could take it all back.

“I mean.. I'm not saying I actually wanna get married right now.” This is not going well. It is not going well at all. But you continue, trying to make yourself seem uninterested. “It's just a thought... just a daydream, really. We're way too young for that kinda stuff.”

You're hoping that by downplaying it, calling it some silly fantasy, you would ease the tension in Vi's body. That maybe she will just laugh it off, make a joke about how you are an idiot. “Yeah, right, getting married to me?” she'll say, her cocky smirk on her lips, her shoulders slumping with relief.

But she didn't. She didn't brush it off. She didn't make a joke. Instead, the room is so silent.

Vi's fingers continue to run through your hair, but they are trembling, their pace a little slower than before. She's not saying anything, and that is making you even more nervous.

You don't know what to do, so you try to make another joke. “Can you imagine it?” you force out a laugh. “You and me getting married. Ridiculous, right?”

Then again, she didn't laugh. The corner of her lip curls up into a sort of half-smirk, but it looks like it's forced. Her eyes dart to the side, a clear sign she is distracted by her thoughts. She swallows, her hands still nervously fidgeting with your hair. What is going on in her mind? why is she so quiet? The longer the silence drags on, the more anxious you become. You want to reach up and shake her to snap her out of it. 

But you didn't, of course. “It will be a disaster.” You force out another laugh, hoping that she will finally talk. “Can you imagine going down the aisle in a wedding dress?” you continue. “Me, dragging you up to the altar so we can say our vows and exchange rings.”

The smile on your face is strained. Please say something, Vi.

“You will probably wear some suit that doesn't even fit you right,” you continue, the words pouring out of your mouth faster now that the panic is setting in. “You'll trip as you walk down the aisle and then fall on your ass during the first dance.” You want her to smile, to laugh, something. Anything that will give you an indication that your marriage joke hasn't gone completely wrong. But Vi is still so damn quiet.

“Then, when we finally get home for our ‘wedding night,’ you'll just…” You cut yourself off, realizing that you are about to make a dirty joke. Not the time. “Just—you will probably fall asleep immediately, right?” You sound like an idiot right now. “Then what will we do? It'll be like, our honeymoon or something, and you'll be snoring and-”

Shut up, your mind hiss. It's like you can't stop yourself from rambling like an idiot. You are starting to sweat.

“Stop talking.”

The tone of her voice made your heart skip a beat. She sounds anxious... or scared... what is going on in her head right now? is the conversation making her as nervous as it is to you?

Vi suddenly pulls her hand away from your hair, sitting up. You sit up as well to look at her. 

“I'm getting hungry.”

It's clear that she doesn't want to talk about marriage, at least for now. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable... but you don't know why. Is she really that opposed to the idea of marrying you? or is she just flustered by the thought of a future with you?

You try to push those thoughts away, try to dismiss them, and act like the whole conversation didn't just happen. Vi is already changing the subject, so you went along with it, putting your usual 'casual' tone back on.

“You're always hungry,” you tease, forcing a smile to spread on your lips. “I swear, you eat more than a goddamn goliath.”

“I don't eat more than a goliath,” Vi protests. “I just have a big appetite.” Her eyes still weren't quite meeting yours. Why wouldn't she look at you?

“And besides,” she adds. “It's not my fault I need a lot of energy to kick so much ass on a daily basis,” she flexed her arms. “Got to keep these biceps strong somehow, right princess?”

“Your biceps aren't that impressive.”

Blatant lie, you both knew it. Vi's stupid strong, not to mention she's absolutely ripped. She can probably bench press a goddamn elephant. She doesn't even have to respond. Her smirk tells you that she knows damn well she can destroy you in a wrestling match.

“Oh yeah? don't think my biceps are that impressive, huh?” she teases, flexing again. “How about I throw you over my shoulder right now, then? carry you around like a goddamn princess. Then you'll see just how impressive they are.”

“Oh, you wo-,” you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, Vi suddenly lurches forward. She scoops you up, hoisting you effortlessly onto her shoulder. You let out a strangled gasp, your hands immediately grabbing onto the back of her tank top. “This isn't fair!” Your voice comes out as more of a squeak. How does she make it look so easy to carry your heavy ass around like a sack of potatoes?

“What was that about my biceps not being impressive, princess?” she taunts. She carries you around. You're like a goddamn ragdoll in her grip, not that you're complaining...

“I have to admit,” you grumble. “I kind of like this view.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Shit. 

Vi's smirk widens. “Oh really?” she drawls. “You like the view? then I'll be sure to give you a better one.” With that, she kicks open the bedroom door and carries you inside.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi fidgets nervously outside Powder's room. She takes a deep breath and finally knocks. “Powder?” she calls out.

What if Powder doesn't want to even talk to her? She screwed up. Who's to say Powder won't be pissed at her?! Just as Vi's starting to think about backing out, the door creaks open. There, powder stands before her.

“Can I come in?”

Powder hesitates, studying her sister for a moment. Finally, she steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Vi sighs in relief, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. Powder sits down on her bed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She doesn't make eye contact. Vi shifts on her feet, standing in the middle of the room. She clears her throat. “So... can we talk?”

Powder hums in response. She slowly moves to sit down beside Powder. She's close, but not too close. “Thought you and…” she mumbles, “are still together.”

Vi shrugs. “The thing we did on Christmas was just for appearance. Dumb decision, really.”

Powder keeps her gaze on her lap, picking at a loose string on her sleeve. “Breakup must've been hard, huh?”

“That's one way to put it.”

“It was your decision, wasn't it?”

“Yeah... I was the one who broke things off.”

Powder nods, still picking absently at the string. Vi fidgets with a strand of her hair as she tries to think of what to say. But Powder beats her to the punch. “Can I ask... why?”

Vi sucks in a sharp breath. She's not sure how to answer that… how can she explain how stupid and scared she felt? how she pushes you away as a result? She wants to just give some bullshit answer, but there's something in the set of Powder's jaw that stops her. Powder deserves some form of honesty.

“It's complicated…”

Powder looks up at her. “Complicated, how?” she asks. “Did she hurt you...?”

“No, no. She'll never hurt me. Nothing like that.”

Powder nods.

“It's just... she's good. She's too good for me, Powder. She's always been too good for me.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

Vi huffs. “Hey-”

“You are an idiot if you really think she's 'too good for you.'”

Vi sighs, slouching forward.

Powder continues. “She stayed by your side for four years. She put up with so much of your bullshit, and she still loved you throughout it all. What the hell makes you think you're not good enough for them? seriously, why do you always do that? why do you always have this dumb idea that you're not worth it?”

Vi looks down at her lap. “She's kind, and smart, and beautiful, and strong...and you've seen her. She's gorgeous, Powder... and then there's me.”

“Don't give me that crap, sis. You're just as strong, if not stronger, and you're definitely not bad to look at. So that's not the real reason, is it?”

Vi bites her lip. Okay, powder definitely has a point. But she can't exactly tell Powder the full truth. But there's no way Powder will believe any more of her bullshit excuses.

Powder looks at her. “Stop trying to lie and bullshit. The truth. Why did you push her away? just tell me the truth.”

“I was scared, okay? I was scared that maybe I wasn't good enough for her, or that maybe she'll wake up one day and realize she can be with someone much better than me, or that she'll get sick of my bullshit-” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I'm just so scared, Powder. I'm scared of being a burden, of not being able to keep her happy, of not being good enough, and it just keeps getting worse, and I feel all this pressure building up, and I panicked. So I did what I usually do, and I ran. I pushed them away, just like I always do.”

“You're a coward, Vi,” Powders says again. “A complete coward. You're so afraid of screwing things up that you end up screwing things up anyway!”

Vi winces at that.

“I watched the two of you for four years. I saw how you two were together. What you had was real, and you threw it away because you couldn't get it through your thick skull that she really does want you?”

Vi feels her stomach twist. “It's... it's not that I don't believe she wants me. I know she does, but I just... I-”

“No 'but' here, Vi! Seriously, you're so damn frustrating.”

“It's hard!” Vi says, frustrated. “I feel like I can't be what they need. I'm a mess. I'm always so angry and on edge, and I get into fights, and I've got so much damn baggage. Why would they want to deal with that when they can be with someone stable and normal?”

“Holy shit, you're such a dumbass. Do you think that she is some perfect person? She has her own issues, her own problems. Nobody is perfect, and she knew that. She knew your flaws, she knew what your life was like, she knew everything, and yet she still chose to be with you for four years. Doesn't that tell you anything?!”

Vi swallows. When Powder puts it like that, it does make her feel stupid. She swallows again, looking up at her sister. “I know it probably doesn't mean much now, but... I really do love her. She's all I've thought about...I miss her so much…”

“'Course you do. Because you just did the dumbest thing you could have done. You let the love of your life slip through your fingers because you were just too damn stupid to see what you had right in front of you.”

“I know, I.. I don't know what possessed me to think she'd be better off without me.”

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Your own insecurities? your lack of self-worth? just a guess.”

“Shut it, powder,” Vi grumbles.

“Hey, don't get pissy with me. You're the one who messed up, not me,” Powder quips. “But anyway, I've heard enough of your stupid whining,” she huffs. “I'm not going to just sit here and let you drown in your self-pity. What the hell am I being the mature one in this situation for?”

“I hate it when you're right.” 

Powder snorts and grins. “Then you must hate being around me all the time, since I'm always right.”

Vi rolls her eyes and shoves her. “'kay smartass.”

“I just want you to be happy, sis.”

“I am happy,” Vi mutters.

“You're only saying that to shut me up.” Vi tries to protest, but Powder holds up one finger, cutting her off. “I know you. I know when you're bullshitting.”

“What are you, a mind reader now?”

“Pretty much,” Powder replies.

Vi rolls her eyes, shoving powder again. “Oh, shut up,” she pauses, then looks at her sister warmly. “I love you, Pow… and thank you. You don't sugarcoat, do you?”

Powder smiles, bumping her shoulder against Vi's. “I love you too. You're a pain in my ass, but I love you. Just...promise me something.”

“What?” she asks.

“Promise me you'll be more honest about your feelings. And I don't just mean with me, I mean in general. Stop keeping it all bunched up in here.” Powder taps Vi's chest with one finger. “Don't just throw something good away because you're scared it'll end eventually anyway. If you love her as much as you say you do, then you have to make up for what a dumbass you were and... at least try to make it work. Because she's... she's special, Vi.”

Vi hesitates but finally sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine, I promise.”

Powder hums. “Pinky promise?”

Vi raises one eyebrow. “Really? Are we ten right now?”

Powder grins, holding out a pinky finger in front of Vi's face. “Come on. Do it, loser.”

“You're ridiculous,” Vi tries to bite back a laugh. “Fine.” She links her pinky with powder's. “Pinky promise.”

“Perfect. Remember, you're not allowed to go back on it now. I'll strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, boss.”

“Oh wait-” Powder's eyes light up, then a grin splits her face. “You remember how we'd always have pillow fights when we were younger?”

Vi groans, already knowing where this is going. “Please, no.”

But it's too late. Powder is already grabbing a pillow off the couch and whacking Vi in the back of the head. “C'mon, it'll be fun,” she grins.

Vi rubs the spot on her head that powder just hit. “Oh god,” she groans again.

Powder chuckles, tossing her another pillow. “No getting out of it,” she teases.

She catches the pillow. “Fine,” she says. “But I'm kicking your ass.”

Powder laughs, already readying her own pillow. “As if. I'm more agile than you are.”

Vi scoffs. “You wish,” and thus, the pillow fight begins.

—

2 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST SNOW

You're sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch on another boring Friday day. Suddenly, you hear Vi calling out your name, and you look over to see her leaning against the window.

“It's snowing,” she shouts eagerly. “Babe look!”

You chuckle. You get up from the couch, walking over to the window to stand beside her. You can see the snow falling slowly outside.

Vi glances over at you. “It's snowing,” she repeats. She's practically pressed up against the window, her nose almost touching the glass as she watches the snow fall. She's grinning when she looks at you and exclaims, “It's our first snow of the year!”

She suddenly grabs your arms and pulls you closer, forcing you up against the window too. She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she puts her hands on the window sill and leans out. Snowflakes are falling around her, and she tips her head back, catching them on her tongue.

“Come on,” she urges. “Taste the snow.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards her, planting a cold, wet kiss on your lips. The snow that was in her mouth is now in yours. “See?” she laughs, pulling away.

Still holding on to your arm, she prevents you from moving away from the window. Instead, she guides your hand up to the glass. “Make a wish on the first snowflake,” she instructs.

“You really want me to make a stupid wish on the stupid snowflake?” you tease.

“Yes,” Vi responds bluntly. She squeezes your hand, her grip tightening around your fingers. “Now come on, make a wish.”

“Alright,” you relent, shaking your head in mock defeat. You tap your finger against the glass, watching as a single snowflake drifts down. You let out a breath and close your eyes, making your wish.

A yacht and a mansion would be nice, and while we were at it, I should wish for no taxes and free college. Maybe I'll even win the lottery. Win a million dollars. No, fifty million. I'm feeling lucky. I'll buy us a house with fifteen rooms. Ten christmas trees, one for every room. We'll even have a room for our christmas trees. I want to find a cure for cancer. Discover a never-before-seen species of shark, maybe a mermaid.

But most of it all, I want to spend another Christmas with her.

“There,” you say, looking back at her. “I made a stupid wish.”

“Good,” she says, grinning. She's satisfied with your compliance, then she releases her grip on your hand. She slides her arms around your waist, pulling you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I hope your stupid wish comes true.”

She stays like that for a moment, her body pressed up against yours as you both watch the snow continue to fall outside. After a few silent minutes, she moves her head slightly and rests her forehead on your shoulder instead of her chin. Her voice is quiet, muffled a little against your shirt. “Promise me something.”

You glance down at her. “What is it?” you murmur, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through her hair.

She lifts her head up so that her cheek now rests on your shoulder. Her fingers twist into the material of your shirt, clinging on tightly. “Promise me we'll spend every day through winter together, even the cold nights. Promise me you'll keep the fireplace going.”

Your hand gently massaging the back of her neck, your fingers playing with the soft hairs there. “I promise,” you whisper into her hair. “Every day. All winter. Even the cold nights. I promise.”

She hums in response, satisfied, and nuzzles closer to you. She pulls you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat—the steady thump thump thump against your chest. She mumbles something against your shirt, the words unintelligible. When you look down, you can see her cheeks are red.

“Whatcha saying?” You tug at a strand of her pink hair before you reach up and trace the edge of her ear with your fingertips.

She shivers when you touch her ear, and a grin spreads across your face. She buries her head further in your shirt, still mumbling something against the material. It's muffled, but you can still hear the last part of what she's saying.

“Love you.”

You can't stop yourself from smiling. You pull her head back so that she's looking up at you now. You want to see her face when you respond. You brush her cheek with your thumb before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“I love you too.”

—

5 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi paces back and forth in her room, checking her phone every couple of seconds. It's been five days. Five days, and still nothing. She can wait. Yes, she can wait.

You've kept Vi on the edge of her seat for days. Which is why Vi's heart was practically beating out of her chest as her phone dinged. She practically pounces on it, grabbing it off the bedside table as she checks the notification.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

She taps the screen, opening the notification.

...it's a meme from Powder, another stupid cat video.

She texts back, “Powder. One of these days I'm going to turn off your damn notifications. Stop sending me stupid cat videos.”

Powder immediately replies, a picture of her flipping off the camera. Below it, she's added the text “love you too.”

Vi rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto the bedside table. She flops onto her bed, sprawling out and glaring at her ceiling.

She sighs. How is it that she's been reduced to checking her phone every thirty seconds, jumping every time a notification goes off?

Pathetic.

Vi looks down at herself, looking at the sweater that she's wearing. It's an ugly-christmas-themed one that you gave her. The colors clash, there's patterns thrown in everywhere, and the whole thing is absolutely atrocious.

and it's her favorite thing in the world.

She wraps her arms around herself, snuggling up on the bed and burying her face into the fabric.

The stupid sweater smells like you. 

She has become a mess these last five days. Not knowing if you will take her back has been slowly driving her mad. She can't even take her mind off you, especially since she's wearing this stupid sweater. It's stupid. This is just a sweater. An ugly sweater made of scratchy fabric. But she can't help clinging to it, desperate to remember what you felt like.

She wants you.

She wants you here, snuggled up with her on the bed. She wants you to wrap your arms around her, pull her close, bury your face in her hair, and sigh into her ear. She wants you to whisper to her, tell her that you miss her too.

Vi wants you back.

She knows she was the one who left you, so why the hell is she the one losing her mind? She's the one who ended things. She's the one who left you. So why can't she stop thinking about how good it would be to feel your lips on hers? She can picture it so clearly. The feeling of your mouth against hers. The taste of your lips

She has become a pathetic pining mess and she hates it.

Vi grabs her phone again, unlocking it and scrolling to her gallery. Swiping through the many photos she has saved of you and her. Pictures of you in her hoodie, pictures of you cooking her breakfast, pictures of you two with your foreheads pressed together.

Her thumb hovers over her favorite picture. It's a candid shot of you wearing one of her shirts and her favorite leather jacket as your hair is ruffled with her fingers.

Vi sighs, heart clenching when she looks at the picture.

If she can go back in time and punch herself in the head, she would. She'll grab past 3 months Vi by the collar and shake her, telling her not to be such an idiot. “You're gonna regret this, dumbass,” she'll say. And god, she does regret it.

She doesn't even have a good reason why she left in the first place. She's just scared and confused. Now look where that ended her. Alone on her bed, wearing an ugly ass sweater, pining over you like some pathetic idiot.

Vi locks her phone and tosses it aside with a groan. She grabs a pillow, burying her face in it and letting out a muffled scream. “This is ridiculous.”

She's a mess. She's angry, she's frustrated, she's hurt, and it's all her own damn fault. She's the one who pushed you away. She's the one who ended everything. She's the one who walked out of the door and slammed it shut. Then five days ago, she had the nerve to ask you if you could give her another chance.

Like that will make everything all better. Like you'll instantly take her back after she treats you like crap.

That's not how life works, idiot.

She wants you to come rushing through the door, push her down on the bed, and pin her against the pillows. She wants you to kiss her until she can't breathe. She wants to feel your touch, kiss, and nibble every part of her body.

And at the same time, she wants to be left alone, to wallow in her own misery. She wants you to stay the hell away from her. 

She hates feeling like this. She hates how her heart beats harder every time her phone buzzes and then immediately sinks when it's not a text message from you.

She hates her dreams—no night goes by that she doesn't dream about you—about your face, your body, your mouth on hers. She wants to feel your skin against hers, hear your voice in her ear, taste you on her tongue.

She's a pathetic, desperate, needy, pining mess.

Vi doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her fingers tangle in her hair, absently toying with the pink strands. Her hand drifts down to fiddle with her ear, tracing the edge of her piercing just like you used to do.

She almost closes her eyes but stops herself.

She misses you. She misses the little things about you.

The way you scrunch your nose when you're confused, the way you bite your lip when you focus, the way you hum songs under your breath when you're alone, the way you get this adorable smile on your face whenever you catch her looking at you.

She misses everything about you.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST CHRISTMAS

“I should tell Vander to decorate the house like that,” Vi says, her eyes reflecting the Christmas lights as she looks around the neighborhood that looks like it was covered in enough lights to power a small city.

“It would cost a fortune,” you point out. “The electricity bill would be skyrocketing, not to mention the cost of all those lights.”

“Come on,” Vi protests, wheedling. “It wouldn't be that expensive, and just imagine the look on ol' Vander's face when he sees his bill next month.”

“Don't you want to give him and the other old farts in this neighborhood an aneurysm?”

“That would be great, and oh—we could also get lights in the shape of a huge middle finger,” she suggests. “And maybe a giant santa statue right in the front lawn, with a sack big enough to carry a goddamn mountain.”

“Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they drive by,” Vi continues. “They'll think they're hallucinating, seeing Vander's house covered in every color of light imaginable, with that huge ass santa statue waving a middle finger like a damn flag.”

The snow crunches under your boots as you and Vi walk through the neighborhood.

She doesn't shut up about how much she loves this time of year, from the chilly nights to the smell of pine trees to the Christmas movies and music that seems to be playing everywhere. 

“Seriously,” she sighs, her breath fogging up in the cold air. “This is my favorite time of year. Everything is so cozy and pretty and festive.” She reaches down and takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. “Plus, I get to see all the cute couples out and about, all cozied up in their winter clothes, kissing under the mistletoe…” She smirks, nudging you with her shoulder. “Makes me want to do cheesy cute things with you,” she starts whistling a tune, swinging your hands.

“We could go caroling around the neighborhood, or maybe build a snowman out in the yard, or-” Vi suddenly stops in her tracks.

Before you can ask what's inside her mind, she grabs your hand and starts pulling you along.

“Come on, I have something to show you!”

You stumble after her, trying to keep up with her as she practically drags you through the snow-covered streets.

Finally, she stops running and looks over at you. “Ta-dah!”

You look at the spot she's brought you to. It's a small park, and in the middle of it stands a tree. Not too small, but not too big.

“Look,” she states, looking over at the tree. “Now, stay right here,” she instructs, pushing you to stand under the tree. “And don't leave. I'll be right back, okay?” She winks at you before darting off, leaving you standing alone under the tree.

What is she up to?

You glance around, trying to figure out what Vi has in mind. It's getting cold, and the snow is starting to seep through your shoes. A few minutes pass, and still no sign of Vi anywhere. Just when you're starting to get impatient, you hear a voice behind you.

“Close your eyes.”

You turn around to see Vi standing there, a smirk on her face. 

“Please, close your eyes, and no peeking.”

Reluctantly, you close your eyes.

“Keep them shut,” she warns. “Don't even think about peeking.”

You hear rustling and shifting, and then some sort of...clink? what on earth is she doing?

“No cheating, okay?”

Minutes and minutes and minutes pass by, it feels like you wait for an hour. All is quiet. There's only the sound of the wind and the crunch of snow. Then, you suddenly feel her hands settling on your shoulders, positioning you exactly how she wants you.

“Don't open your eyes yet,” she whispers in your ear.

Her hands slide down from your shoulders, trailing down your arms and then coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay,” she murmurs, adjusting your position. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink a few times, adjusting from the darkness of having them closed, and then you look up. Vi has strung a bunch of Christmas lights up in the tree. It's almost like a scene from a cheesy Christmas movie. It's so sappy, but it's perfect.

“What do you think?” she asks. “Pretty damn great, huh?” she grins, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. She pulls you closer to her, your back pressing against her chest. She smells like a christmas treat. Just like the cookies you love to eat.

“I figured all the best cheesy Christmas movie stuff needs a perfect, romantic setting,” she says, her fingers absently tracing patterns on your stomach. “And what's more romantic than standing under the tree, with the Christmas lights all around us and the snow falling down?” Vi squeezes you tighter, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a light kiss just below your ear.

“And of course,” she mumbles. “We can't have a cheesy Christmas movie moment without some cheesy Christmas music to go along with it.” Vi steps away, going over and plugging in a set of battery-powered speakers. They immediately start playing a Christmas melody.

You watch as she skips back over to you, her hands immediately settling back on your waist. “Now, let's get in position. I want this to be suuuper cheesy.” She waggles her eyebrows and grins again, moving so she's standing in front of you. “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders, and then move a little closer.”

You follow her instructions, placing your hands on her shoulders and stepping forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Perfect. That's perfect.” Her hands come to rest on your hips. “Now, we just gotta get one last thing…” Her hands move from your hips, sliding slowly up your sides and over your arms. She grabs your wrists and lifts them up, putting your arms around her neck so your hands are clasped behind her head. “And now,” she murmurs, pulling you even closer. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “The mistletoe.”

You look up, and sure enough, there it is. A little sprig of mistletoe is hanging from a branch just above your heads.

“Seems like we have the perfect moment to finish off the Christmas movie cliché.”Her other hand is still on your hip, and she's pulling you so close now that you can practically taste her breath as she whispers, “You know what that means, right...?”

Even though you know exactly what she's talking about, you raise an eyebrow and give her a coy smile. “Oh, I don't know... refresh my memory?”

“Yes ma'am.” She then pulls you tight and leans forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, slow kiss. It's not at all like her usual passionate, fiery kisses. It's gentler, softer, sweeter. She nips at your bottom lip, her teeth pulling gently before her tongue soothes the redness. She tilts your head back, claiming your mouth in a much deeper kiss.

She pushes you up against the tree, pinning you there and claiming more and more of your mouth. You tighten your arms around her neck, pulling her even closer.

After a few more moments, the two of you finally pull away.

Vi rests her forehead against yours, both of you suddenly breathless from the kiss. Neither of you say a word. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the christmas music from the speaker.

“Well,” Vi murmurs, breaking the silence. She lets out a sigh and then chuckles, pulling back so she can look at your face. “That was pretty damn cheesy.”

“Like you weren't loving every second of it.”

“I would never deny that.” Her hands still on your waist, stroking your stomach. “I'd kiss you under the damn mistletoe all day, every day, if I could.”

“You're such a sap.” You move one hand up to her hair, tangling your fingers in it and toying with one of her pink bangs. “Corny, cheesy sap with a thing for Christmas movie romance.”

She laughs, tilting her head back to give you more access to her hair. “I just want to keep doing this,” Vi murmurs. “I want to keep spending Christmas with you, over and over and over,” she continues. “Every. Single. One. Even when we're old geezers with walkers and false teeth and liver spots, spending Christmas together underneath a tree.”

She pulls you as close, resting her cheek against your shoulder. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling the words against your skin. “I want to watch you open your Christmas presents. Even when we're both pushing seventy, then I want to watch you open mine,” she sighs. “I want us to argue over holiday decorations because you insist that the garland is crooked, and I don't care if it is.”

She tilts her head to look at you once more. Then she moves to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, then the tip of your nose. “I want to fight with you on the Christmas tree lot over whether we're going to buy a real tree or a plastic tree, but end up getting both just because you refuse to back down.”

She lifts one hand to cup your chin, tilting it up towards her, then moves to press kisses to each of your eyelids. “I want to wake up at three in the morning and sit on the end of our bed in our pajamas, our hair a mess and bags under our eyes, and listen to our kids in their rooms upstairs. Hear them whisper and snicker about the big fat man that's climbing down the chimney…”

She pauses, moving to press a kiss to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose again. “I want us to make Christmas traditions, even if they're dumb traditions. I want us to bake Christmas cookies and put ornaments on the tree together… even if you complain the whole time and say I'm doing it wrong.”

Then she moves her lips to your cheeks, a kiss to one side, then the other. “I want to go to the grocery store on Christmas eve, because you forgot to buy that one random ingredient that you forgot to put on the list and you refuse to cook without it,” she murmurs, her lips moving to your jaw. 

“And then, I want to watch you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of your favorite Christmas movie, even though you've seen it a hundred times.”

She presses a kiss to your chin, then another to the underside of your jaw. “I want to come home from work late on Christmas eve because I forgot to get a present, and I just know you're gonna say, 'I told you so', but you'll still give me a kiss and tell me to sit my ass down and not worry about any damn gift.”

She smirks against your skin, as she moves back to one of your eyes, placing a kiss to the outer corner. “I just want to spend every Christmas with you. From this one to the next, all the way through when we're old and gray. We can even spend Christmas in our damn graves.”

She pulls her hand away and lets her fingers slide down and find yours, intertwining them together, bringing your hand up to her mouth. She brings the back of your hand to her lips, placing a kiss against your skin. Her thumb gently brushes over your knuckles. Her fingers are calloused and rough, but her touch is soft and delicate, careful not to squeeze too hard.

Her eyes then close, placing your hand on her cheek, leaning into your touch. “Only you,” she murmurs. She turns her head to press a kiss to your palm. “Always you.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You're once again standing in front of Vander's house.

It's been a whirlwind of a year—first the breakup, then the Christmas, and now the New Year's eve. You don't know how to feel. Excited? nervous? worried? you're not quite sure which one. Hell, chances are you're probably feeling all three.

Powder has been nagging you about coming for a couple of days, and your parents wouldn't mind anyway. They're spending the night by themselves in a hotel somewhere, doing the tango or some other bs. So, here you are.

You have a feeling that the family already knows about the breakup. Vi had told you she'd tell them after Christmas, and it's after Christmas. You just hope that it won't be too awkward.

You're here for two reasons.

The first is to celebrate new years with the family, and the second is to talk to Vi.

You need an answer. You need to know why she left. Why she really left.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, then head up to the front door. You knock once, then twice, hoping to god that you won't have to wait long. Footsteps approach from the other side, and you can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. There's laughing, talking, and the shuffling of feet, then the sound of the door opening.

You've barely even processed the fact that the door is open when you're suddenly engulfed in a hug. A pair of arms wraps around you. A familiar scent of cherry blossom invades your senses, and you feel yourself stiffening instinctively.

The woman releases her grip on you, pulling away to look at you with a wide grin. “You made it!” 

“'Course I did,” you reply, a smile on your lips. “You were spam bombing me on every social media you could find. Kinda hard to say no to that.”

“Knew it!” she chirps, then grabs your arm and tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you as she leads you into the house. Following Powder further into the house, the sound of Mylo's voice coming from the living room as he sings loudly and very, very out of tune.

Powder stops at the entrance to the living room and glances over at him. She pauses, her fingers still clamped tightly around your wrist. She glances back at you. “I mean, you're still my friend,” she murmurs. “After you and…” she clears her throat. “After everything.” She doesn't finish her sentence, just looks back at Mylo. He's still singing, clearly oblivious to your presence. His voice breaks on a particular note, the sound of his voice scraping against your ears. Powder shakes her head. “He's awful,” she mutters. “Always has been.”

“I'm almost surprised none of you have tried to stuff a sock in his mouth yet.”

Powder snorts. “Believe me, I tried when I was younger, but Vander said violence is never the answer.” 

“That sounds like Vander.” You can almost picture Vander swatting Powder's hands away and saying some sort of fatherly bullshit about not doing something like that. 

“Yeah,” she grins, mocking her father's demeanor. “'Violence isn't the answer, honey. You and your siblings need to find other ways to figure out your differences. Blah blah blah.' Something like that.” Powder lets go of your wrist, letting her hands fall to her hips. “Anyway,” she says, “there's food in the kitchen. We already ate dinner, but there's snacks if you want any.” She pauses, her eyes drifting to the living room. “Vi's in the living room, so uh…” she stops, her eyes shifting back to you. “You know, just so you know. Get prepared for that or something. I'm gonna go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I think I might walk around first.”

She smiles again and gives you one last pat on the shoulder before she steps past you and slips into the living room.

You take a second, letting your eyes drift over the decorations. Familiar faces are in family pictures on the wall. There's a few colorful Christmas lights still hung up on the walls.

Upon a second glance around the room, you spot Sevika in the corner, casually puffing on a cigarette. You can't help but wonder how she always manages to get away with that. There's definitely a no-smoking rule in the house, especially during events like this. Apparently that rule doesn't apply to Sevika. She's just enjoying her smoke.

She looks up as you approach, grinning. “Hey there, kid,” she greets as she tilts her head to the side, giving you a once-over. “How's it going?” She blows out a stream of smoke that quickly drifts away.

You try not to cough when the smoke drifts into your face. You give her a half-smile. “It's going,” you reply, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I mean, you know how it is.” You nod your head at the cigarette between her fingers. “I'm surprised Vander hasn't kicked you out yet.”

Sevika grins, the corners of her lips curving into a smirk. She places the cigarette between her lips again, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Believe me,” she replies, “he's threatened to do it about fifty times tonight.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I can imagine.”

She puffs on the cigarette once more. “He's got that whole 'you're under my roof' speech down pat. I've heard it a hundred times.”

“Yet here you are,” you muse, gesturing at the cigarette in her fingers. “Still taking your chances.”

“I gotta get my cigarette fix.” She grins. She flicks some ash off the end before taking another drag. “Vander can lecture me all he wants, but I'm never giving up my vices.”

You're about to reply to Sevika, but you're interrupted by the sound of a familiar laugh. An arm slides around your shoulders, and you're surprised to see Ekko standing beside you. He grins at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Hey stranger,” he teases.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, bumping him with your hip.

He laughs before his eyes drift to Sevika. He looks from the cigarette in her fingers up to her face, then back to the cigarette again, then back to her face. He gives her a disapproving look, and Sevika just grins around the cigarette in her mouth. “Are you really smoking in the house?" Ekko asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Sevika takes a puff on her cigarette and shrugs. “I already told the kid, I live for the thrill,” she replies, shooting you a wink. “Besides, it helps me relax.”

Ekko rolls his eyes. “Of course it does,” he mutters. He turns to you. “Don't follow in her footsteps, got it?”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off. “I think I can handle myself, dad.”

“Hey!” Ekko exclaims. He places a hand on his chest. “I just don't want you to end up like some people.” He casts a pointed look in Sevika's direction. He then leads you away from Sevika, pulling you into the living room where the karaoke set up is. All of your friends are crowded around it, and Mylo and Powder are squabbling over the karaoke.

Claggor is perched on the floor watching his siblings, and he turns his head and smiles when he sees you. “Hey, you made it!” he says, getting to his feet. He claps you on the back, pulling you into a hug.

“Yeah, guess I couldn't keep away,” you joke, returning Claggor's hug. “I'm surprised you didn't try to stop me, honestly.”

Claggor grins and releases you. “Eh, I get it,” he says. “I know it's a little complicated for you to be here, but still... you're always welcome here. You know that, right?”

You nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

He pats your shoulder again, then turns back to Mylo and Powder, who are bickering again over who gets to go first.

Your eyes dart across the living room. And then, there she is, viola! sitting on the couch, she doesn't notice you at first. Until, a moment later, her eyes drift your way as you and Ekko walk over together.

She sits up a bit straighter as you walk closer, and she's looking at you too long for your liking.

Powder glances over at her older sister curiously when she sits up straighter. Mylo glances at Vi too, his eyes narrowing as he notices the look in her eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but Powder reaches over and smacks the back of his arm, shaking her head.

He scowls at her. “What was that for?!” he growls.

Powder shoots him a look. “Shut it.”

Ekko grins, taking an open spot on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You glance at the spot, and it is...right next to Vi. You reluctantly take a seat next to her, making sure you sit a few good inches away.

Ekko glances between everyone, clearly noticing the strange atmosphere. “So…”

He's about to ask a question when Vi turns her gaze over to him, giving him such a death glare that he immediately stops talking. Powder shoots him a scathing look as well, her expression telling him to ‘keep your mouth shut’. Ekko laughs nervously, clearly realizing that he was just about to ask a question he definitely shouldn't have asked.

Eventually, Mylo clears his throat. “So, who's up for karaoke?” he asks, trying to break the weird atmosphere.

Powder perks up, her eyes lighting up. “I'll sing next!”

Mylo scoffs. "No way, it's my turn!”

Claggor rolls his eyes. “Seriously? you were just up there.”

While the two boys bicker and Powder starts whining that she wants a turn, you glance away, your eyes involuntarily landing on Vi. She feels your gaze on her and shifts her eyes to you, and your gazes lock. She doesn't say anything, and the eye contact lingers just a moment longer than it should've. She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something but suddenly looks away. Her eyes fixed on the floor, staring down at it for a moment. Finally, she turns to look at you again, lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Happy New Year's Eve,” she says, giving you a strained smile.

“Yeah,” you force out, “happy new year's to you too.” The words feel flat, coming out almost awkwardly. She doesn't seem like she knows what to say either. She just gives a nod, looking away again.

Claggor grins. “Powder's a better singer than you, anyway,” he teases. 

Mylo turns his glare onto Claggor, shoving him roughly with a muttered, “Shut up, asswipe.”

Claggor scoffs. “At least she can hit the notes,” he shoots back.

Mylo scoffs back at him. “My singing is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It's not. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Claggor points out.

Mylo's jaw drops. “I do not sound like that!”

“You do.” All of you chime in unison. 

Mylo groans in protest. “You guys suck. I'm the best damn singer here.”

Powder laughs at his claim. “You're the worst singer I've ever heard.”

The trio continue to bicker, and Vi glances over again, her eyes flitting up and down your body. Her eyes flick from your hair to your mouth to your collarbones. She glances at the exposed skin of your neck, her tongue suddenly running across her bottom lip. Her gaze lingers on your chest... and then she realizes what she's doing. With a loud cough, she looks down into her lap, her eyebrows creased and her neck flushed. “You look good,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear her over the sibling's arguing.

You look down at what you're wearing, surprised by her sudden compliment. “Thanks...?” you respond, meeting her gaze again. “You don't look bad yourself.”

Mylo, Powder, and Claggor are too busy bickering to really notice what's happening between you and Vi. Ekko notices, his eyes going back and forth between you two.

But even though they're too immersed in their argument, Vi still keeps her voice low so the others don't overhear her. She glances away again so not to draw attention to the way she was just staring at you. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Mylo is yelling at Claggor. “I'm better at everything, including singing!”

“You're better at being stupid,” Claggor fires back.

Powder pipes up with a grin. “Oh! I have a great idea!” They all turn to look at her, including you. She grins wider before saying, “Vi should sing!”

Vi seems a bit taken off guard, her eyes widening. “N-no, no, it's fine, I-” 

Powder pushes her forward. “Come on, sing a song for us!”

Reluctantly, Vi allows herself to be pushed forward, standing in front of the microphone. She shoots Powder a glare for pushing her. “You're an ass,” she grumbles.

Powder grins at her. “Have fun, sis,” she teases.

She sighs, then turns back to the karaoke. She hums a tune to herself as she scrolls through the song list, her eyes skimming over the options. There's a few seconds more of searching, and then her fingers stop at one particular song. She glances around the room, checking to see everyone's waiting to hear what she'll sing. Her eyes land on you last, and she locks gazes with you for a moment.

Before she has a chance to chicken out, she selects the song and stands in front of the microphone. Vi clears her throat again and takes a deep breath. she seems...nervous.

At the start of the song, you immediately recognize the opening notes. It takes you a second to name the song, but when you do... you almost choke. The lyrics start, and there's no denying it. It's true. She's singing what you think she's singing.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, CONFESSION

You're lying in bed, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through random stuff. It's a quiet evening, and the rain patters against your window. Suddenly, you hear a faint melody drifting through the rain. Music. It must be your neighbor who decided to blast music in the rain. but wait...

Did you just hear your name?

You sit up, suddenly intrigued. You place your phone down, sitting up straight as you listen to the music. Your brows furrow, trying to find where the sound is coming from.

It's definitely coming from outside... and it's getting louder. The faint sound of Aerosmith's ‘I Don't Want to Miss a Thing’ reaches your ears. Curiosity now piqued, you slowly get up from your bed and walk over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, you look out into the rainy night, and there, amidst the rain, you spot her. Violet.

She stands under the glow of the street lights, the light rain showering down around her. She's holding something... no. Not something. A boombox. It's an old, weathered boombox. The kind you'd thought had gone out of style decades ago.

She's singing. Singing... for you.

Her face is tilted upward, the rain kissing her face, mouthing the lyrics, “Every moment I spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

It's cheesy, so, so incredibly cheesy. It's so clichéd and almost straight out of a cheesy romcom. The old boombox, the rain, the song. It's something you'd roll your eyes at in a movie. But it's... sweet, in a way. The way her body rocks slightly to the beat, the way the rain glistens on her skin as she sings those lyrics.

You open your window, the rain and wind blow in, and you raise your voice over the sound of the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” you call out. “It's raining! are you crazy, Vi?”

Vi turns her head towards your voice, a smile stretching across her lips when she sees you standing at the window. “I don't care!” she yells back, holding the boombox higher. “I know it's raining. I'm not blind!”

She takes a few steps closer to your house, her rain-soaked hair sticking to her face. The rain and the light from the street lamps bounce off her skin, making her look like a mess. But she's grinning, that smirk plastered on her face as she holds the boombox over her head.

“You're going to catch a cold!” you retort.

“I've lived through much worse than a rain,” she calls back. “And nothing's gonna stop me tonight.” She then takes a deep breath before belting the lyrics out. The smile never leaves her lips. “Don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing.”

You look around nervously, checking to make sure no one is disturbed by her sudden performance. The last thing you need is your parents waking up and finding out that your friend is singing under the rain for you.

“Are you trying to wake up my parents? or the entire neighborhood for that matter?! keep it down, would you?!” you hiss through tightly clenched teeth, leaning out of the window more. “Get inside!” you whisper shout at her.

She continues to hold the boombox above her head, the rain running down her face and dripping from her chin. “Come on, let me finish at least!”

“You're going to get sick,” you protest, “and my parents will be mad,” you try to reason. Although the idea of your parents waking up to the sight of her standing outside, singing a love song to you, is... funny. 

Vi just laughs at your warning, shaking her head. “Eh, who cares about that? I'm having way too much fun pissing your parents off right now!”

“Stubborn idiot,” you murmur to yourself, sighing. 

You head downstairs to the closet to grab an umbrella. As you grab it, you give a quick glance out your living room window. Vi is still there, holding that boombox, continuing to sing in the rain. Grabbing the umbrella, you step out into the rain. The rain instantly slaps your face, and you quickly pop open the umbrella, holding it over your head.

Vi turns around to face you as you approach. Her singing falters when she sees you. Her smile widens, and she lowers the boombox.

“You really are the stupidest, most stubborn woman I know,” you grumble, holding the umbrella over your head as you reach Vi.

Vi is clearly soaked. She looks like a drowned rat, but despite the mess and her wet state, she's still grinning.

“Do you know how loud you are?” you ask. “You might wake up the whole damn neighborhood, banging that boombox at this hour. It's late, you loud, stubborn idiot.” You pause, studying her appearance. Her face is flushed, the redness on her cheeks betraying her. It could be the rain, the cold, or maybe...

“What?” you ask. “Nothing to say? cat got your tongue?”

Vi pauses, her eyes meeting yours. The rain continues to fall, slapping against the umbrella.

“I like you.”

What?

“No,” you watch as she shakes her head, correcting herself, rain dripping from her hair. “I love you. No, I'm in love with you.”

You stare at her, stunned. The words coming out of her mouth are unexpected. Your mind is in chaos. How could she do this, spring this confession on you all of a sudden? Your eyes are wide, your mind whirling. “What are you talking about?”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, the redness spreading to the tips of her ears. “I said I love you,” she repeats. “I love you. I've... I've loved you for a long time.” 

She takes a step closer, the rain continuing to fall around you both. The boombox is still clutched tightly in her hand, the music still playing faintly.

You're speechless, struggling to find the words to respond. Your heart is racing and your mind is spinning. After all the years of friendship, all the ups and downs, all the times you've seen her in all her glory... this is when she chooses to confess? now? in the middle of goddamn rain?

Your gaze shifts on her lips. They're slightly parted, raindrops clinging to them. They look soft, even under the rain, even in this awkward and confusing moment.

Vi speaks again, and her words snap you back to reality. “You don't have to say it back…” she says, her voice shaky. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I know I'm a fool,” she continues, her grip on the boombox tightening. “Singing my heart out in the rain like a dumbass... but I couldn't hold it in any longer. You're all I think about.”

Your hands clench around the handle of the umbrella, her confession replaying in your head. I love you. I'm in love with you.

All the times you've admired her, all the times a simple glance got your heart to race... It makes sense now. The feeling you always tried to ignore—the warmth and the flutter in your stomach.

You don't know what to do, what to say, and those damn lips of hers are not helping at all.

Screw it.

Your brain stops thinking, and you act on impulse. The umbrella clatters to the ground, raindrops drenching you both as you step closer to her. You wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your lips against hers.

Her body is tense, clearly taken by surprise, but after that, she melts into your arms. She drops the boombox, letting it fall into a puddle by her feet, and wraps her own arms around your waist. 

She's kissing you eagerly, hungrily, her lips moving against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. Her tongue slides against your lower lip, seeking entrance. You could never deny her anything, and you part your lips, letting her tongue explore your mouth.

Her hands roam over your body. Touching and grabbing at any part of you she can reach. Her tongue is hot against yours. Sliding and tangling together, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your lips break away from hers, both of you drawing in ragged breaths.

Her forehead pressed against yours. Both of you are shaking from the cold. Her eyes are half-lidded as she looks at you, her lips swollen and red. “That's…” she mumbles, her voice hoarse. “That's one way to respond to a confession.”

Your arms remain around her neck, fingers buried in her wet hair. She's still gripping your waist, holding onto you tightly, her other hand coming up to brush a rain-soaked lock of hair from your face. “You're quiet.” Her thumb traces a path across your bottom lip. “Got something to say, or did I shut you up for good?”

“You always have to be so damn dramatic about everything, don't you?” you mutter, fighting the urge to smile. “Not even a proper date first or anything,” you continue, “just straight to saying I love you, no buildup. Very classy, very romantic.”

Her laughter is a low rumble in her chest when she shakes her head. “Welp, I'm a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “When I see something I want, I go for it.” Her eyes roam over your face. “And I really, really want you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now can we get inside before we freeze our asses off?” You reach down to pick up the umbrella. “I think we've given the neighborhood enough of a show for one night.”

Your eyes flicker from her soaked clothes to her shivering frame. “If you end up sick, my mom will have my ass for letting you stay out here for so long. You know what she's like when it comes to you…” Your voice softens, concern lacing your words. “C'mon, let's get inside before we catch a cold.”

Her shoulders sag when you mention your mother. She glances down at herself, taking in her wet clothes and shivering body. “Alright, alright,” she mutters. “Last thing I need is another lecture from your mom. She's damn scary.” She bends down to pick up the abandoned boombox, shaking off the rainwater.

You usher her to the front door of your house, your hand resting on her lower back to guide her. Her clothes are damp against your touch.

The door swings open, revealing your mother with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You sure managed to wake up the damn neighborhood with your display out there.” Her eyes flicker between you and Vi.

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You remember it all.

She used to hum that exact song to you. All the time. Humming in your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist, watching you clean dishes or cook.

Sometimes, she wouldn't even hum it. Sometimes, she would just sing the lyrics to you, while her fingertips would trace random patterns on your skin. Doodles on your back, swirls on your stomach, sometimes little hearts on your arm.

You'd always tease her. “Do you know any songs other than this one?” She'd just chuckle and hum the song harder.

All the while, she would pepper small kisses on your neck and shoulders.

You'd try to push her off, “Stop, I'm trying to clean,” even if you both knew that it was useless to try and stop her.

Sometimes you'd even start singing along in a loud, off-key voice, just to annoy her.

She'd stop humming and glare at you. “Stop that,” she'd say, pouting.

You'd just laugh at her. “Make me,” you'd challenge.

You always used to laugh and tease her about it at first... but slowly, it started to grow on you.

You'd catch yourself humming the song after she stopped visiting, and you hated that your mind instinctively wanted to hear her voice singing it. Sometimes, you'd hum it yourself, but it never compared to how she sang it. She's so much better than you.

The song continues, you just couldn't take your eyes off her. She's just... breathtaking. The way her eyes closed as she got into the song, the way her lips moved with the words, it made you want to reach forward and...

...what are you thinking? you can't do that. you can't do that. So, instead, you just sit there. You just listen. You just watch.

She's looking at you. You can feel it. Her gaze lingers on you longer than everyone else. She's really singing to you, isn't she? why does she have to make this harder?

Your heart is beating so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear it.

When the song finally ends, you're snapped out of your thoughts. Everyone cheers, clapping loudly.

“That's my sister!” Powder exclaims.

Mylo whistles. “Better than I expected.”

Claggor just grins, giving Vi a round of applause.

While everyone else starts chattering, you just sit there in stunned silence. Your palms are starting to sweat, and you feel sick.

Vi sits down on the couch next to you, sitting close but not close enough to actually touch or bump into you.

The others begin taking their turns singing. Ekko sings first. He starts singing a song you don't recognize, but it's something rap and upbeat. Mylo takes the mic next and immediately starts butchering a love song. Powder laughs her ass off, “You're terrible at this!”

Claggor gives Mylo a glare before taking the mic, and he actually sings a pretty decent song. “See?” he says, shooting another glare at Mylo, “that's how you do it.”

Mylo lets out an indignant squawk. “Yeah, whatever, I'm not even trying.”

“Whatever helps you feel better about sucking.” Powder snickers.

It goes on like that, back and forth. One sings, the others make comments, Powder makes fun of Mylo, repeat.

The whole time, you're just stuck there with Vi. So close yet so far away.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP

Vi's cheek rests on the countertop, her fingers mindlessly running over the rim of the glass in front of her. It's empty, having never even been touched. Vander leans on the other side of the bar, still cleaning the glass in his hand. The place is nearly empty now, just a few stragglers sitting here and there.

“You gonna drink that?” Vander asks, raising an eyebrow at Vi's untouched drink.

Vi doesn't lift her head from the counter. “Nah,” she says. “Not in the mood tonight.”

Vander looks at her for a moment, still cleaning the glass. He puts the glass down, resting his arms on the counter, leaning forward.

“Something's on ya mind?”

She lifts her head up, rolling it until it's resting on her chin instead. She doesn't look at Vander. Her gaze on the wall on the other far side of the bar. “Can I ask you something?”

Vander pauses, then he simply nods. He knows what that tone means. The same way he knows the look in her eyes. “Sure,” he replies, “go ahead.”

“How do you…” she starts, her fingers slowly tracing the rim of the glass. “How do you know when you've found the right person?”

Vander knows where this is headed. He thinks for a moment, scratching his beard. “The right person,” he repeats. “Well,” he answers, “you can usually feel it here.” He slowly touches his chest over his heart. “Why are you asking?”

Vi suddenly feels like a little girl again, sitting at the bar, watching her father work. It's so familiar, something she never seems to grow out of. “Dunno,” she says, looking back down at the glass.

Vander smirks, knowing her too well to take that excuse as an answer. “Try again.”

Vi sighs. She glances up at her father, who's still watching her. Vander knows her too well, sometimes too well. Her fingers stop tracing the glass rim. She sits up, her hand resting idly on the countertop. “There's this girl…” she mumbles.

Vander's smirk almost becomes a grin at her words. He rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward. “A girl, huh?” he muses. “A special girl?” He already can tell the answer to that, judging by how quiet she's been this evening.

Vi rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the hint of pink that appears on her cheeks. She can feel Vander's smirk, and she doesn't have to look at him to know he knows. “Just a girl, okay?” she doesn't want to admit she's completely whipped. But she is.

Vander chuckles, seeing the hint of pink against her skin. “Right,” he drawls, clearly not believing her claim. He moves to grab a glass from behind the bar, and he starts pouring himself something to drink. “Got a name?” 

Vi groans, hiding her face in her hands. Of course he'll ask that question. “Why does it matter?” she mumbles from behind her palms.

Vander can see the tips of her ears turning red, and he has to fight the urge to laugh. “Come on,” he urges, taking a sip of his drink. “What's the harm in telling a name? at least a first name.”

Vi peeks at her father from between her fingers. She knows he's not going to drop it. So with a sigh, she slowly lowers her hands, looking down at the counter. She mumbles your name, the tips of her fingers starting to fiddle with the glass again.

“So this girl…” he continues, “you been seein' her?”

His question causes her to snap her head up. He looks back at her, his smirk still present on his face. Vi shakes her head, glancing back down at her hands. “No… she's just a friend.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “Just a friend eh?” he asks. “That's all?”

She lifts her head, giving her father a glare. “Yes, that’s all,” she mutters, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.

Vander just grins, looking smug. He sets the glass down on the counter. “She got a boyfriend... or a girlfriend? This friend of yours?”

His question makes Vi freeze. She never thought to find out, but now that he says it, it makes her stomach twist weirdly. She bites the inside of her cheek, shifting on the stool again. “No, I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, maybe she does. It's not like I've asked,” she says quickly, not liking where this conversation is headed.

“You like her, don't ya?”

Vi's sure her face is completely pink now, her eyes avoiding Vander's. “I dont-” she stops, sighing. Her shoulders slump. Her fingers twisting together. “...so what if I do.” 

He knew it. “Nothin' wrong with it,” he replies, pouring himself some more drink. He doesn't look at her for a few moments, sipping on his drink. “She knows ya like her?”

Vi sighs again, burying her face in one hand. She shakes her head. “No, she has no idea,” she mutters. “And she better not find out. I'd never hear the end of it.”

“Why not? afraid she'll turn ya down?”

Vi's head shoots up from her hands, a glare planted on her features. “No!” she snaps.

Vander just lifts both hands in mock surrender. “Then why are you so scared?” 

“I'm not scared,” she counters. “I'm just worried she'll start treating me differently.”

Vander hums in thought. “And that's a bad thing?”

Her gaze drops back down to her hands fiddling with each other. He doesn't understand. She doesn't want to lose what she has with you already.

Vander raises an eyebrow, watching her. “Why are you so scared of confessing your feelings to this girl? how bad can it be?”

Vi's fingers pause. Her eyes shut tight. “What if she laughs?”

Vander snorts. “That's what you're worried about?”

Vi groans again, dropping her forehead onto the counter. It's not as simple as he made it sound. “She might do more than that, you don't know.”

“You're scared to tell her how you feel because you think she'll... what? beat you up?”

“That's not funny.” How does she explain this to Vander? how does she explain the way her stomach turns and twists at the thought of telling you how she really feels? how much does it terrify her that things wouldn't be the same?

“You worry too much, kid.”

Vi leans back against the stool. “I know.”

“Just tell her you like her already.”

“That's easy for you to say,” she says, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Then why are you so afraid to do it?”

Vi groans. “Because I don't wanna lose her.”

“She won't disappear if you tell her you like her.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he counters. “Do you really think she'll stop being your friend?”

She knows he's right, at least partially, but she's still scared.

Vander sighs, his eyes narrowing at her. He knows he just needs to give her the final shove. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“For a while..”

Vander hums. “And you still haven't told her,” he states. It's not a question. It's a fact.

Vi starts to fiddle the hem of her shirt. 

“How long are you gonna keep avoiding it?” 

She mumbles something too quiet for him to make out. 

“What's that?” he asks.

Vi grumbles, her shoulders slumping. “I said, 'probably forever, probably.'”

Vander lets out a laugh. “You're impossible.”

“You don't know how hard this is.”

“You're always making things difficult,” he teases, then he suddenly asks, “Do you trust me?” 

Vi lifts an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

He leans in closer to her. “Then just listen to me for a minute.”

Vi hesitates but nods at him to continue. 

Vander leans an elbow on the counter. “Stop being a coward and just do it.”

Vi's brows furrow, ready to argue, but before she can speak, Vander holds up a hand to silence her. “Don't say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing her. “Listen, you're scared you'll lose her. I get it. But trust me, if you really know her, and I know you do, why would she stop being friends with you just because you like her?”

Vi opens her mouth to object, but Vander continues before she can.

“Stop overthinking, stop being so damn stubborn, and just tell her how you feel.” Vander takes advantage of her speechless state to keep going. “Worst-case scenario, she doesn't feel the same. Sucks, but you'll survive. Life goes on.” He pokes her forehead. “Stop being a big sissy.”

“I'm not a big sissy,” Vi grumbles, swatting at his hand.

“Come on, punk,” he teases. “When did you ever let fear stop you from doing something before?”

Vi huffs. She knows he's got a point.

“You've gotten into so much trouble before. You started fights, you stole things. You even stole from me, for gods' sake,” he scoffs. “But you're too afraid to tell a girl you like her?" 

She hates that he's right, and she hates that she's so damn predictable.

“You're being ridiculous,” he scolds. “You've done scarier things than this, and yet you're shitting your pants over telling your friend that you like her.” He always has a way of calling her out. “I'm just trying to knock some sense into your thick skull, pup.”

She shifts on her seat. gaze dropping to the floor. “Don't get me wrong, I want to. Badly. But-” she pauses, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “What if it doesn't work out? what if we just end up hurting each other? or worse… what if she will just hate me in the end?”

Vander's brows furrow. He has a feeling she will say something like this, and once again, she's right. The what-ifs are always scary. He thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping an absentminded beat on the countertop. As much as he likes to, he can't deny that the outcome of a relationship is uncertain.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

Vi hesitantly lifts her head, her eyes meeting his.

“It's true. We can't predict the future,” he starts. “But we can't let fear hold us back, either.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“Life is all about taking risks,” he replies. “You can't always play it safe, not when it comes to love.”

“But-”

Vander cuts her off. “It's never easy. When you love someone, you're putting yourself out there. You're letting her into your heart, and that's scary as hell. There's no guarantee of anything. Love isn't easy. It's not simple. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's even painful.” He pauses, studying her face closely.

“But you know what else?” he continues. “The good parts make all of that worth it. The smiles, the laughter, the feeling of her hand in yours. The little things, like waking up next to her or sharing a moment with her that no one else would have. That's what makes love worth it. The uncertainty, the fear... those are just parts of the journey.”

Vander holds her gaze. “Don't let that fear stop you from experiencing what could be amazing.”

He lets out a sigh. “You feel it, don't you? the way your heart beats faster when you're around her? that flutter in your chest when she smiles? the heat in your cheeks when she laughs?”

“That feeling, that connection,” he continues. “That's something special, Vi. Something rare and beautiful. You can't just ignore that. You can't pretend it doesn't exist. Look, I'm not going to pretend that I can make this choice for you. That's not my place... but I will tell you this.” He reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It's always worth the risk, Violet.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Everyone makes their way to Vander's backyard. He's standing at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs.

Powder is a few feet away, setting up a few fireworks displays that she made in advance before walking over to Mylo and setting up a few lawn chairs. Silco and Benzo are standing near Vander, talking quietly among themselves, occasionally stealing a beer from the cooler.

You find yourself sitting in a lawn chair with a soda in hand, while Claggor is sitting in the chair beside you, laughing at something that Ekko said. You take a sip, letting the liquid slide down your throat. You sigh, slouching in the chair.

“Seriously, have you ever even talked to a girl before?” Claggor says, raising an eyebrow.

Ekko gasps. “I have too! I've talked to tons of girls.”

“Name one.”

“...”

Claggor grins, poking Ekko. “That's what I thought.”

You can hear Powder and Mylo arguing about something stupid, just like they always do. Mylo seems really angry about it. “You never listen to me!”

“It's not my fault your ideas suck!” Powder argues back.

It's like the two of them never run out of things to bicker about, no matter how petty or ridiculous. They can argue about the weather. Mylo could look outside, see that it's raining, and still somehow get mad at powder and vice versa.

Vi is a few feet away, standing next to Vander. She has a cigarette hanging from her lips.

You've seen her smoke countless times. Sometimes she would blow smoke in Powder's face just to piss her off, or she would take a drag and then kiss you, the lingering, slightly bitter taste of the cigarette on her lips. She would even try to blow the smoke into your mouth. It's such a weird feeling, feeling the smoke pass from her lips to yours.

You take a sip of your soda, taking your eyes off her before you could remember anything else.

Across from you, Sevika glances at you from over the top of her beer bottle. She looks like she wants to say something, but she just takes another swig from the bottle instead.

Soon enough, Vander finishes with the grilling. Everyone scrambles to get their food, with Mylo and Claggor passing out paper plates loaded up with hotdogs and hamburgers.

Everyone gathers around in a circle. Silco is holding a bottle of beer in his hand, raising it up. “I have something to say.”

Everyone quiets down, glancing at Silco. Powder is still stuffing her face with food, but Ekko grabs her arm. “Stop eating and listen.” Powder grumbles something but sets her food down, giving Silco her full attention (as much as she can, at least).

Silco clears his throat, taking a sip from his beer. “New years. The start of a fresh year, a new beginning.”

He glances around at everyone, his eye lingering on Vi for a few seconds, and then his gaze lands on you. You quickly look down, taking a sip from your soda and pretending like you didn't notice.

“This year has been a shitshow, we all know it, but we always manage to keep together. No matter what happens, we're all family here. We look after each other. We take care of each other.”

Claggor and Ekko share a look. You notice Powder giving Mylo a nudge with her elbow. Mylo scowls at her.

He takes another sip of beer. “It's a time to forget about mistakes and move forward, to grow and learn, and for some of us…” his gaze drifts towards Powder and Mylo. “It's a time to stop acting like brats.” He continues, drumming his fingers against the side of his beer bottle, “So as tradition, I want everyone to think of a resolution for the new year. It could be as silly as wanting to eat healthier or something bigger like getting a new job or going on a trip.”

It's another one of Silco's traditions. It's something they all do every year. Everyone is thinking about their resolutions, thinking of something they want to keep for the new year.

Claggor and Ekko are still sharing looks, and you can hear Mylo and Powder whispering about something.

He glances around at everyone, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, any volunteers?”

No one makes a move. Everyone is either stuffing their face, or they're thinking about their New Year's resolutions, or they're just keeping quiet.

Silco sighs. It looks like it's down to him. “Jesus. If no one wants to go first... guess I'll go.” He raises his beer. “My resolution for this year is I want to get healthier. Eat healthier, stop smoking so much.”

Benzo chuckles. “A little too late for that, don't you think?”

“It's never too late,” Silco says, sending a glare at him.

He takes a sip of his beer before looking around. “Alright, anyone next? or am I really the only one going?”

When no one volunteers, Vander steps up. He raises his beer. “I can't say I have anything big, but I want to fix up the bar and give it a bit of a makeover. Something different.”

“New paint job?” Ekko asks.

Vander nods. “Might as well. It's needed it for a while.” He looks around. “Anyone else got anything to share?”

Benzo glances around before he finally decides to chime in. “Well, my resolution...hmm.” His hand rests on Silco's shoulder. “I want to convince Silco to stop smoking so much.”

“I just said-”

“Yeah, but you've been saying the same thing every year. Your ass is still here, smoking your lungs to death.”

“I'm trying,” Silco mutters.

Benzo laughs, patting his shoulder. “Sure you are.” Silco grumbles something under his breath but says nothing. Benzo takes a swig from his beer. “Who's next?”

Claggor is staring down at the beer in his hand, swirling it and watching the liquid move around the bottle. His eyebrows furrow.

Vander glances at him. “You got one, boy?”

Claggor snaps out of his thoughts, looking over to his father. He hesitates but ends up nodding, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I actually have one.” He hesitates for a second before speaking, “My new year's resolution is... well, my goal is to pass my final exams so I can get my certificate for being a certified mechanic, but... it'll take a lot of work.”

Vander beams. “That's a good resolution. Hard but achievable.”

“Yeah, it won't be easy, but I really want to get it done. I just-” Claggor suddenly looks down at his beer again. “I just don't know if I can do it.”

Vander places a hand on his shoulder. “Don't doubt yourself. You've got the potential. We're all rooting for you, kid.”

“Yeah, you'll make a great mechanic,” Ekko chimes in, “and all of us will be in your garage for free car services.”

That gets a laugh out of Claggor, and he gives Ekko a punch on the arm. “Sure thing. I'll give all of you free services once I pass.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” Mylo grins. “Once you're a mechanic, you better make sure you don't overcharge me.”

“I know you can't afford me, Mylo,” Claggor teases. “I'm going to make you pay double.”

There's a collective chorus of ‘oooh's,’ and Mylo rolls his eyes. “Okay, smartass.”

Claggor laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Who's next?”

Everyone goes quiet again. No one else is saying anything. The only sounds are the clinking of Claggor setting his beer down and Ekko opening a bag of chips.

Powder is sitting quietly, staring at her hands. Her fingers are picking at a loose piece of skin on her thumb.

Silco glances at her. “Powder?”

She looks over, suddenly blinking out of her own thoughts. “Oh—right, my turn.” Powder pauses for a second, staring down at her drink. She clears her throat and raises her soda. “My resolution for the new year is... I want to get into MIT. I know it's a long shot, but I really want to get in.”

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds, processing the words that just came out of her mouth. Then there's a sudden barrage of questions.

“MIT!”

“Really?”

“How?”

“Are you serious?”

Powder almost loses her balance when everyone starts talking over one another. She grumbles, waving her hands around to try and get everyone to be quiet. “Okay, okay! Shut up and I'll explain!”

All of them immediately snap their mouths shut, Powder sighs, and sit up straight. “Thank you. Now if you'll let me continue. Yes, my new year resolution is to get into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Everyone knows MIT is one of the most competitive schools out there, right? Hell, it's one of the best schools out there. It's... it's really selective. It's a place for brilliant people, but I've been studying a lot, really going hard at it, and I actually think I have a small chance at getting in. I've already looked at their application-”

Mylo interrupts her. “But how are you going to get in? we don't have the money to afford that Pow…”

“I know! I've looked into grants and scholarships, and they do have a few financial programs for students who need help paying. If my applications go through, I can get a partial or even full scholarship. I really want to get in. I know it's a lot of work, but I'm up for the challenge.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but Silco cuts him off with a look, ‘Let her finish’ Mylo snaps his mouth shut again, glaring at Silco.

Powder continues. “And honestly, I didn't just wake up one day and decide I wanted to get into MIT. I've been working hard for a while. My grades are great, I have tons of extracurricular activities, a few teachers have agreed to do recommendations for me, and-”

“If you get into MIT, you'll be moving away, right?” Vi cuts in. She pushes herself off the wall, tossing her cigarette into the nearest trash bin, then making her way over to her sister.

Powder's face drops at the question. “If I do end up getting in, I probably won't be around here a lot. MIT is nowhere near here.”

It's an honest answer. There's no sugar coating or beating around the bush to make it seem less harsh. Hearing the words come from Powder's mouth makes it all suddenly seem real. If she does end up getting into that school, she'll be gone. She'll be hours away in a completely different state. 

“I'll probably be busy studying a lot anyway, on top of clubs and stuff. It's a lot of work, honestly, and besides, I can always video call you or something.”

Vi ruffles Powder's hair. “Well, if you are going to be way up there on the east coast...don't forget about me—I mean us,” she looks around. “Yeah?”

Powder sighs and swats at her sister's hand. “I won't forget about any of you. You guys don't have to worry. Once I get into MIT, I won't abandon you all or anything.”

Silco says, “If you think you've got it in you to get into a place like MIT, then go on, kid. Try it.”

Claggor agrees with Silco, nodding. “You can do it, pow-pow. You're smart. You can make it into MIT.”

You give a supportive smile and a nod. “If you really want it, I think you should go for it. If you get in, you'll be going to a place for brilliant people, and you're definitely smart enough to be one of them.”

“Jesus, you're gonna be a long way away,” Mylo says, sighing.

Benzo adds, “Yeah, but it's good for her. Getting into somewhere like MIT is no small feat. Go for it, kid.”

Vander looks over at Powder and smiles. “That is a big place for big things. If you think you can make it, go for it. We're always here for you, Pow-pow.”

Ekko grins. “And if you get in, you'll have to show us around the campus.”

“Thanks… thank you guys. I didn't think I'd be so nervous about saying all that, but…” Powder glances around at them. “Now you guys have to share your resolutions now.”

Everyone's heads collectively turn to Mylo. He groans in response. “My resolution is, uh... to get laid and have a... girlfriend maybe,” he mumbles out, not really putting a lot of effort into his answer.

Claggor snorts. “That's what you said last year too.”

“Hey, things change! It's going to happen this year!” Mylo huffs. “And it's gonna be an actual girlfriend this time!”

“Like you had a fake girlfriend before?” Powder teases.

The group goes quiet, a few awkward glances going around. You notice a few people look at you, then at Vi. You can't count how many people clear their throat at that.

After a few seconds, Claggor speaks, “Well, that's... that's a resolution, I guess?”

Powder clears her throat again. “Yeah... guess so.”

Mylo looks over at Ekko. “What about you? what's your resolution?” he tries to distract everyone from the awkward silence.

Ekko glances around, then shrugs. “Dunno, figure things out, I guess. I think we all have stuff we need to figure out, so that'll probably be my resolution, to just... figure it out.”

“Figured out anything yet?” Powder teases him.

Ekko chuckles. “Not yet, still working on it. It's complicated.”

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, we could tell. You've had the same crush since middle school.”

Ekko opens his mouth, but Silco cuts him off. “Enough about the kid's love life. What about yours, Sevika?”

Sevika, who's been quiet the whole time, leans back in her chair. “I haven't really thought about it too much. I'm not a big resolutions kind of person.”

Benzo laughs. “Always living life on the fly. What about you, Vi?”

Vi looks at you for a few seconds, then looks away. “Work with myself more, I guess.”

“Work on yourself? in what way?” Claggor asks.

Vi shakes her head. “In a lot of ways, I've got a lot going on. Stuff that I should fix or just figure out,” she says, avoiding any eye contact with anyone but mostly avoiding eye contact with you.

Vander and Silco share a look, silently speaking with their subtle eye movements and raised brows. But neither of them say anything.

“What about you? You haven't shared yours yet,” Powder prompts, turning the conversation to you.

You never really thought too much about your own resolution, but now that they're all looking at you, you're starting to wish you did. You can feel Vi's eyes boring a hole into the side of your face, and you can't bring yourself to look at her.

You take a few seconds to think about your words, then you just decide to go with what you can think of on the fly. “I guess mine is just… taking more chances and risks.”

Powder nods. “Taking risks, yeah, that's good.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow. “Risks? what kind of risks? like skydiving or bungee jumping?”

You're starting to regret your response. You just said the first thing that came to mind, and now they're all going to be asking questions. You glance in Vi's direction, and your eyes meet for half a second. She quickly breaks the eye contact, looking away. 

You swallow hard and turn your attention back to the group. “Yeah, just...yeah, like that.”

Mylo scoffs, and it's obvious that he doesn't believe that. But he seems to decide not to pry into your answer too much. “Skydiving is definitely something I'll be interested in trying someday.”

Powder smirks. “You'll have a heart attack before the parachute even opens.”

“What? I'm in great shape. I could do it.”

“The only way you could skydive is if you were pushed out of the plane yourself.”

Mylo scowls and flips her off. “I could do it if I wanted.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh, sure you could.” Powder then checks her phone, checking the time 11:50. “Almost midnight!” she exclaims excitedly, jumping up and running over to the fireworks she was preparing. 

The rest of the group starts getting up, grabbing beers, and setting up for the upcoming countdown. 

Mylo and Ekko begin helping Powder, adjusting different fireworks, and making sure everything is in order. Powder is making some last-minute adjustments, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in silent concentration. Ekko notices this and laughs. “You look stupid when you do that.”  Powder just sticks her tongue out more in response, flipping Ekko off with a free hand as she continues working.

You look around, suddenly realizing that Vi is not where she was a few moments ago. You hear a noise next to you, suddenly you feel a presence beside you. You expect to see Vander or Silco. You look up to find Vi standing beside you.

She notices you noticed her but doesn't say anything, just kind of hovering beside you awkwardly. Both pretending to look around at everyone else's preparations for the new year's countdown, but neither of you is paying attention.

After silence and silence, the countdown begins, everyone in the group yelling out the numbers.

“10”

Mylo has his arm around Claggor's shoulders, ready to shout along with everyone else. Sevika raises a beer in the air. Benzo is recording the countdown. Silco and Vander are standing next to each other.

“9”

Powder is bouncing on her toes, her hand on the igniter, ready to fire the fireworks into the air. Ekko is standing beside her, a smile on his face as he watches her.

“8”

Mylo's head is thrown back as he yells the countdown. Benzo raises his phone up higher, trying to get a better view of the fireworks for the video. You glance at Vi, and this time your eyes meet, she's already looking at you.

“7”

Her eyes snap away as soon as your eyes meet, acting like she's not been looking at you in the first place. You're left wondering if she even wants to look in the first place. Maybe it's just a coincidence. 

Her cheeks have a faint dusting of pink, but it can easily be blamed on the cold.

“6”

You swallow hard, your heart starts to pick up its pace. Your eyes flick back to her, and this time she's staring off somewhere to the side, refusing to look at you. You start to get a nagging, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you push it aside.

It's not like she's looking at you because she wants to. Right?

“5”

Suddenly, you feel a touch against your knuckles, causing your fingers to twitch at your side. It's a subtle touch, one that you could ignore. But you don't. You don't dare look down at her hand, you don't even move your hand away. 

“4”

Vi's fingers are still touching your knuckles, and neither of you are moving away, neither of you are saying anything, and neither of you are looking at each other.

“3”

Just 6 days ago, she held your hand tight on her own, but now it feels like a simple brush of fingertips over knuckles is almost too much to handle.

“2”

Slowly, almost cautiously, you feel her pinky fingers touch yours. They brush against your skin, trying to intertwine your fingers with her own. It's hesitant and slow, but after a few moments, you take the chance and slowly move your fingers over hers, intertwining them.

“1”

Her fingers twitch when you intertwine your fingers with hers, like she's shocked that you're letting yourself do this. She doesn't pull away though, her fingers just tighten, locking yours together. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The group erupts into cheers and celebration, shouting out the words loudly and fireworks and whistles going off all around. Powder is shouting and smiling and laughing, launching fireworks into the air. Mylo and Ekko lift Powder up, settling to their shoulders, shouting happily. Benzo raises his phone, getting the whole scene on film.

Vander and Silco glance at them, then shake their heads with a smile. Silco murmurs something quietly, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Vander snorted at whatever he said.

Claggor nervously glances at Mylo and Ekko, worried that they're going to drop her sister accidentally. Powder notices him looking and grins cheerfully. “It's fine, it's fine!” she reassures him, then throws her hands up in the air. “WOO! Happy new year!”

Sevika downs the last of her beer, then tosses the can aside. She raises her eyebrows at the scene of Powder being lifted up in the air, a smirk crossing her face.

You turn to look at her once again. The fireworks light up her face in a kaleidoscope of colors.

She looks so... soft like this. Relaxed. Peaceful. You drink it all in. You want to remember this. The way the colors play across her face. The way the fireworks light up in her eyes. The way her eyes look so much more blue under the colored lights. 

It should be illegal for her to look this good.

You've seen her make a hundred different expressions, every one of them just as beautiful as the last. But somehow, the way the light plays across her face is making her look downright ethereal.

You've always loved her hair. The way it frames her face, how you always want to bury your fingers in it.

You want to reach up and brush her cheek, to run your fingers over the little bumps of those freckles. You want to count them all, and you want to make sure you don't miss a single one. Maybe even kiss each one, if you're feeling daring.

You think about her lips. The pouty, pretty, perfect curve of them. How pink they are and how soft they look, how much you want to kiss them or watch them say your name.

You want to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. Maybe whisper something in her ear, just to watch her shiver.

The way she talks. The way her voice can be so gravelly but also so smooth at the same time. The way she laughs, her eyes lighting up as her body shakes. The way her voice gets breathless when she's riled up.

You love the way she says your name, how it sounds so different on her tongue than anyone else's.

You want to hear her say it again. You want to hear her say it over and over, so many times that it starts to lose its meaning. You want to hear her say it until you forget how to breathe without her name in your lungs.

You want a thousand more moments like this one. Moments where the rest of the world faded away, moments where you thought there might someday be more to your relationship than broken glass and sharp words.

You want the domesticity of sharing a space with her. The quiet evenings and the stupid, petty arguments. Being able to come home after work and share a bed instead of coming home alone and trying to silence the aching in your chest.

You want the stupid things. Like cooking together, doing laundry, going shopping. You want to walk through the rain together and laugh at the stupid, soggy-haired look on her face. You want to hear her sing in the shower, complain about the weather, and have her crawl into bed with you when it's cold outside.

You want the dumb little arguments about who's turn it is to do the dishes, what movie to watch, and who forgot to fold the laundry. You want stupid, mundane things like the annoying morning alarm she sets that she hates and the dumb coffee mug that she drinks out of every morning.

You want the little things. The way she would leave the bathroom door open when she's brushing her teeth just so she can continue talking to you. The way she'd pull you to her side when you're watching movies. The way she'd steal your food even though you're both sitting at the same table.

More than that, more than the stupid fights and small annoyances, you just want her. You want all of it. Every stupid, messy, frustrating, wonderful thing. All of it. You just want her, every part of her. The soft parts, the hard edges, and the broken bits.

And there it is. There's the realization that makes your chest tighten.

You're still in love with her.

Somehow, that thought shouldn't surprise you. The way you've been acting around her, the way you've watched her without even realizing, the way you've ached to reach out and pull her against you. It should've been obvious.

You think of all the days you've spent apart. The sleepless nights spent waiting for a call or text that never came. The countless times you'd wished you could see her, touch her, kiss her, love her. The times when you'd told yourself over and over again that you were perfectly fine being single, that you didn't need her.

You'd been wrong. You'd been so, so wrong.

Because no matter how much you'd tried to deny it, no matter what you'd told yourself, nothing could change the way you feel. There's no way you could get rid of the way your heart stutters every time you look at her. You can't change the way you still crave her. You don't think you'd ever be able to forget the way her smile makes you feel like you're coming home.

You're still so goddamn hopelessly in love.

You're so focused on her that you don't even notice Vander looking at the two of you.

Vander glances over to Silco, shooting him a look. Silco's eyes flick to the two of you, then he grins, raising one eyebrow at Vander. Vander rolls his eyes, returning the expression.

—

7 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

The celebration has died down now, the clock striking past 1 am. Everyone is finishing up, cleaning up the trash and any unwanted mess.

Vi is in the middle of picking up a few empty cans lying on the ground, throwing them into the overfilled bin. Her head is bowed forward, her hair falls over her face, her body bent at an angle to reach the ground, her skin flushed warm from the cold air. 

There's so many questions floating through your head. You need to talk to her. You need to ask her so many things. Why she ended things, if there was a reason, if she wanted it to end, if you somehow did something wrong. You need to know. You deserve to know.

You watch her for a moment, then take a breath and step forward. “Can we talk?”

She's still bent over, picking things up off of the ground. Her fingers pause in their movement, and she straightens up slowly, her head raising and turning toward you. “Huh?” She blinks a few times before replying, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can.” She sets the can in her hand down into the bin with a rattle, wiping her hands on her jeans when she's done.

“Can we go somewhere more... quiet?”

She glances at the rest of the group, but they're all mostly focused on their own tasks. “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

You walk across the yard, passing Powder and Ekko, who are teasing each other as they pick up trash, making a game out of it. The two of you walk silently, with no destination in mind. Neither of you quite knows where to take this conversation, but you have to have it eventually. You walk in a mostly awkward silence for a few more minutes.

Vi glances in your direction, noticing how your hands are stuffed deep into your pockets. “Are you cold?” she asks. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It's fine.”

She hums in response. Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. Her eyes linger on your hands shoved into your pocket. After a moment, she sighs, then stops walking. “Give me your hand.” She doesn't give you much of a choice as she steps closer to you. She holds out her own hand, keeping it there like she expects you to just place your hand in hers.

But you hesitate. Sure, you're holding her finger just minutes ago, but this feels so different now, so much more real. You know if you put your hand in hers, you won't want to let go… and yet you do it anyway.

The second your hand touches hers, she laces her fingers with yours, pulling your hand toward her. She closes her fingers around your knuckles and tugs your hand closer, lifting it and inspecting your skin, her fingers tracing small circles. She doesn't meet your eyes while she examines your hand, but her gaze is focused on it. 

“You are cold,” she mutters, tracing her fingers over your knuckles and the back of your hand. She lifts your hand, turning your wrist to reveal your palm, then touches your fingertips with hers. “Your hands are like blocks of ice. Christ, you really are an idiot sometimes.” 

Her eyes stay down, but you know her well enough to know that she's smiling. Even she can't keep the smile from her face. “So… what do wanna talk about?”

Her eyes flicker up to your face, but she quickly looks away again, turning to watch her own fingers still tracing over yours. “I just wanted to ask why.”

Her fingers still for a moment, lingering in midair just above your hand. “Why what, exactly?”

“Why did you end things so suddenly? like…” you pause, licking your lips as the question sits on your tongue. “You never gave me a clear reason, just... left. No second thought. No explanation. Nothing.”

Vi's fingers go back to tracing soft lines over your skin, her head still bowed, staring at your hand. She doesn't answer at first, then sighs again. “It's not that... it's not like I wasn't happy. You made me happy. So happy. It's…” she pauses, her teeth catching the inside of her lip as her fingers freeze and she lifts her head finally. “I got scared.”

Her words take you slightly by surprise. Scared?

Her head turns toward you, but she won't meet your eyes. She glances to the side. “I got scared. We were fine. You were fine. I got scared. I got scared that you would change your mind, that you would realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I got scared like a damn coward.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I convinced myself you would be better off without me, so I ended it... to protect you, I guess... it sounds stupid out loud, doesn't it?”

“It sounds like bullshit.” 

Her head snaps up to look at you. Her fingers curling around yours just a bit tighter. 

“You can't just... I thought—I thought I did something wrong. I thought it was me.”

She shakes her head, eyes now locked on your face. “That's not it. God, no, it's not you. You were—are—perfect. Too perfect. You're more than enough. I just didn't…” she pauses, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. “I'm a mess. I'm just a mess. I was so damn scared of ruining you.” Her eyes darts away, staring at the space between you. Her fingers loosen from where they're squeezing your hand, but she keeps her hold. “I'm sorry.”

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound you can hear is her quiet breathing and the distant voices of everyone else.

Bullshit. You think to yourself. Bullshit, bullshit.

Bullshit, because she let you go. bullshit, because she didn't talk to you. But all of that is swept away when you notice her head slowly dip forward, her forehead landing on your shoulder.

Your hands move before your brain even has a chance to think. Your fingers slide into her hair, letting go of her hand so one hand can tangle in the pink strands. It's just a muscle memory, you try to convince yourself.

She turns her face into your neck. You hear her sigh, then she shifts forward, melting into you and closing what space was left between you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes. She's holding on like she's scared you'll slip away, even though she's the one who let you go.

Your other arm down to rest of her hip, keeping her close, keeping her here. She sighs again, her breath ghosting over your skin, your stomach tying itself in knots.

“That night... I hate that night. I hate it so much. I hate that you were crying. I hate that I was the reason. I really never wanted you to feel that way, but I couldn't... I couldn't fix it. I didn't know how to fix it, and I was making everything shitty.” She mutters into your shoulder.

“I would have helped you, if only you'd let me.” Your fingers slide over the back of her neck.

You feel her shake her head against your shoulder, her short hair tickling your neck. “I know. I know you would have. I just... couldn't. I wasn't.... I wasn't in a good place, and I was scared of bringing you down with me.”

“You could have told me.” Your hand moves to trail feather light touches through her hair. “You could have told me you weren't alright. That you weren't in a good place. I would have helped you. I would have been there. You didn't have to push me away.”

“I know. I know.” Her grip tightens around your waist, her hands almost shaking as she holds onto you. “I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was being selfish, and I didn't want you... I didn't want you to deal with my crap. I didn't want you to have to deal with... me.”

“Oh, Violet,” your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. “I wouldn't mind having to deal with you. I never minded.”

“Shit, I was so stupid. I was stupid,” she whispers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “I pushed you away because I was a damn idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” you murmur, “stupid? Maybe. A damn coward? Yeah, for sure. But an idiot? no, not an idiot.”

“They're the same,” she mumbles.

“No, they aren't. An idiot wouldn't have ended things out of fear, would they? An idiot would keep going until either both of you messed it up or you fell apart. A coward,” you correct yourself, “would end things because they were afraid of ruining something good.” You brush the tips of her hair away from her face, gently tucking the loose strands back.

She's quiet for a long moment, her face still pressed against your neck. “You make me sound smart.” 

“Well, you can be sometimes.” Your hands return to her hair. “...you made the dumbest decision possible, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” She tilts her head enough for you to see the side of her face. “I know, I know I did. It was so damn stupid. So... dumb.” She lifts her head higher, her nose bumping into the underside of your jaw. “I'm so damn sorry.”

“I... I forgive you. I do. I do forgive you. But-” Your fingers tighten their grip on her hip. “—you can't do that again, please. Just... don't push me away like that again. Don't be a damn coward again.”

“I won't, I promise I won't.” Her hand releases your shirt, rising to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing across your cheek. “Not again, I swear. I was a damn coward, but I... I won't be like that again.”

“You're going to have to prove it.” Your own hand comes up to cover her's. You hold her palm against your cheek. “After pulling something like that, you're going to have to prove to me that you won't be a damn coward again.”

Her fingers curl against your skin, thumb tracing shapes over your cheekbone. “However I need to, I will. I'll prove it to you, I will. I'll do it a thousand times over.”

You tilt your head into her touch. “You'd damn well better. I'm not going through that again.” You pause, taking a breath. “You have a lot to make up for, you know.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I know I do, and I will. I'll make it up to you, any way I can.” Her fingers move across your cheek, tracing gentle lines along your jaw, until they come to rest against the underside of your chin. “Every day, if that's what it takes.”

“Every day,” you repeat.

A smile tilts the corner of her mouth. “Then I guess I better get started, hm?”

End.

notes: genuine question tho, would u go back to your ex? ...asking for a friend :D

taglist: @just-levyy, @padsfirewhisky, @jinxjinxjinx12, @writtenbyhollywood, @cottoncandyclouds-stuff, @eilishxo, @wlwdottcom, @lia-winther

[imaginedisish]

Anything (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Something is seriously wrong with me...I cannot stop writing for this man. Started this one last night after hearing him say "princess" in "The Wolverine" (2013). This is another nightmare fic, but I promise it's different! Heavily inspired by "anything" by Adrianne Lenker. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Your summer affair with Logan is, in fact, not just a summer affair.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!! MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), (some?)fingering, cockwarming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nightmares, fem!reader/afab!reader, canon-typical violence, mutant!reader (unspecified abilities), feelings, angst, cursing, probably grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 3,213 short for me

It started one summer night—under the stars. You had slipped out the window of your room in the mansion. You were sitting with your legs crossed, perched precariously on the old, shingled roof. You never got much sleep—you simply couldn’t—even though you knew the mansion was safe. Staying awake remained a solace, a comfort. It meant fewer nightmares; it meant you couldn’t be haunted by the hurt of your past.

Staring up at the stars beat staring up at your ceiling, and so you had made it a habit to crawl out of your window and sit on the roof. 

Until that one summer night, when Logan found you out there.

He shoved open his window and stuck his head outside. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” You smiled, turning your head to face him. You shrugged your shoulders, giggling at the concern on his face. He mocked you, shrugging his own shoulders in imitation. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile and the way he made you laugh. You and Logan had been growing closer, spending more time together. He was looking out for you—constantly and protectively. It made you feel good knowing that someone cared so deeply. 

“Why don’t you come over here?” You called over to him, patting the spot next to you. He shook his head and ducked back inside. You quickly assumed he didn’t feel like being with you, your heart sinking down into your stomach. You wanted him to come out, to sit with you. Maybe you could’ve—

But then there he was, pushing the window as far open as it could possibly go, struggling to climb out. It wasn’t too much of a scuffle over to you, your rooms being right next to one another, but he made a big deal of the trek nonetheless. He huffed for dramatic effect as he sat down next to you. 

“This is so incredibly dangerous,” he had said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. 

You gasped. “Logan Howlett cares about safety?” You clasped your hand over your mouth for flare. “My safety?” 

He smiled, but there was something serious in his face. “I do, actually.” You tried not to notice as he inched closer to you, your shoulders brushing together. “What are you doing out here, princess?” He asked again. 

You smirked at the familiar nickname. “I don’t really like sleeping,” you muttered. 

Logan nodded. He understood better than anyone else. “I know…” He trailed off, looking up at the sky. “But why sit out here?”

“It’s quiet,” you whispered. “And it’s beautiful. Better than being in there, just sitting in bed.” 

He nodded again. “It is beautiful.” You turned your head back to Logan as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. He was looking at you. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Did you have a dream tonight?”

You shook your head from side to side. “Didn’t give myself the chance to yet, and I don’t plan on doing so.” You sighed, looking down at your legs, still crossed like a pretzel in front of you. “Wish we didn’t have to deal with this, you know?”  

Logan slowly brought his arm around your shoulder, as if he was waiting for you to shove him away. He had touched you before, but not quite like this. It was always in passing—always short and fleeting. But this? This was intentional. You leaned into his touch and let your head fall to his shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with it alone,” he offered, his lips faintly brushing at your temple. 

You tilted up to look at him, his face inches away from yours. He pulled you in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You’re not alone,” he repeated. 

And then his lips were on yours. You kissed on the roof. You let him tug you into his window, into his bed. He tasted you that night. You spread your legs and let him inside. And then you slept. You slept without waking up in a cold sweat. You slept without reliving your past. And for the first time in a long time, so did he. 

And now it's become a habit. He opens his window for you, and you climb across the roof and inside. Every night. You haven’t slept alone since the beginning of the summer, and it’s August now. There’s no label on whatever it is you two are. But you know it’s serious—the way he asks every night if you can stay, even though he knows you’ve already made up your mind and that you aren’t going anywhere. 

But tonight is different. Logan was sent on a day trip with some of the students, while you were tasked with staying at the school to run through training exercises. It’s the end of the day now—10 PM. You’re exhausted as you let your back crash down on the mattress. 

Thanks to Logan, your body has become accustomed to sleeping. You can feel it calling you, feel your tiredness creeping in at the corner of your eyes. You try to fight the feeling, but it’s no use. Your eyes flutter open and closed, resisting until you can’t anymore, and you fall asleep. 

There’s a piercing ringing in your ears. Your chest is heaving violently. You’re strapped down to a chair, a needle inches away from your forearm. Maybe it’s Stryker. Maybe it’s some other mutant hunter or government agent ready to do their worst. You thrash around in the chair, yanking at the restraints to no avail.

You choke out a sob, throwing your head back in agony. Logan is all you can think about. What if he’s in danger? What if you never see him again? What if this is it?

Just as the needle breaks skin, the piercing ringing starts up again, and everything goes black. 

You force yourself to sit up, cold sweat drenching every inch and curve of your body. You look over to the clock on your nightstand: 12:37 AM. You had only been asleep for two hours. You shut your eyes, letting your head bump into the headboard behind you. You take deep, slow breaths, trying to lower your heart rate, silently reminding yourself that it was all just a dream. 

You’re not exactly sure what brought the nightmare on, but you know you aren’t going back to sleep. You crawl out of bed and into the darkness of your room, carefully walking to your window and shoving it as far open as it can possibly go. You climb out and sit on the still-hot roof to look at the stars. 

The twinkling balls of heat shine above you. It hits you then that even stars must die. They have all that energy, all that beauty, and then they burn out. You swallow at the thought, tears burning behind your sinuses. 

You don’t want to look over at Logan’s room—don’t want to see the window closed. The trip was to some aquarium down the shore in Jersey. You know he’s likely not home yet, and for the first time since all of this started, you’re worried about bothering him. You don’t want to force him to deal with your—

And then you finally see it. His window is open, the curtains billowing around inside. You let out a tight breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders going slack at the thought of crawling into his bed. 

You scale the roof carefully, bending down as you climb inside his room. You get tangled up in the curtains, and you shove them aside to reveal Logan in his bed, eyes shut. You swallow harshly at the sight—his chest bare and his hair a mess. Sometimes you’ll stay up and watch him sleep, just to see this, just to know what he looks like when it's late and no one else is around. 

But then he’s twitching. He grunts, his chest heaving rapidly. You sprint across the room to his side, practically tripping over nothing in the rush of it all. He’s fisting the sheets, mumbling nonsense, violently turning left and right. You can see the pain in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his muscles flex. Your heart drops deep into the pit of your stomach. 

“Logan,” you call out, bringing a hand to his shoulder. You know he’s sensitive—know he can bring the claws out at any second—so you take care with your movements. “Logan,” you call again, louder this time. You grip his shoulder harder, shaking him, trying to force him out of the nightmare. 

You think you hear your name slip from his lips. “I’m right here,” you soothe, bringing your other hand to his abdomen, rubbing softly as you continue to shake his shoulder. He’s a sweating mess, his body cold and hot at the same time. You want to take his pain away, to make all of this better. “Come on,” you beg. “Wake up.”

And then he’s sitting up, his eyes open wide. You step back, giving him the space he needs as he comes to. His claws shoot out, ready to strike. He turns his head, his eyes frantically searching the room until he finds you. 

He quickly retracts his claws, and you watch as his shoulders relax. His chest still rises and falls rapidly with every breath he takes. 

“Logan,” you whisper, stepping closer to him again. “Are you—” 

He cuts you off, pawing at you, grabbing your sides, and pulling you into his bed. He’s on top of you in an instant, caging you in, his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly. 

“Can you stay?” It’s a ritual, the way he asks. He knows your answer—always does. But he asks anyway. You know he wants to hear it from your lips, wants to know that you want this, too. 

Your heart clenches in your chest. “Yes,” you sigh as one of his hands comes to rest underneath your shirt, climbing slowly up your stomach. “But Logan—”

He swallows your protests with a kiss, and you moan into his mouth. It’s hurried, rushed, like he’ll die if he can't have you right away. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Need you now. Talk after,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again before you can say a word. 

You understood—you needed him too. Needed to feel him inside you, under your skin, everywhere. 

His hand slinks up to your bare chest; you had forgotten you weren’t wearing a bra, just one of Logan’s old t-shirts and your panties. His touch is rough; needy. He squeezes your tits, his fingertips brushing your nipples, drawing tight circles. You moan his name, already squirming underneath him. 

Logan’s erection grinds against your core. He’s just wearing his boxers—nothing else—but it’s still too much. You need him bare before you, deep inside you. You lift your hips up to meet his, your arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer.

He takes the hint, his hand gliding back down your body to the hem of your panties. He reaches down farther, teasing your folds through the fabric. “Fuck, so fucking wet already,” he mumbles, slipping your panties to the side so that he can feel you. You shudder under his touch, his fingers spreading your slickness up to your clit. He strokes teasingly, the ache between your thighs growing with every flick and circle. 

It feels like heaven, but you need him closer. “Logan,” you whimper, fisting the sheets underneath you. “Want you, please.” It’s a desperate prayer and not just a request. 

Logan suddenly pulls his hand away and you whine at the loss of contact. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes reassuringly, sitting up and pushing his boxers down. You’ll never get tired of the sight of his cock springing free against his stomach. His hands are back on your hips in an instant, squeezing lightly before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and yanking them down. 

He's back on top of you, lowering down onto one forearm as his other hand pulls your shirt above your tits. “Wanna see you, pretty girl,” he groans, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before his forehead meets yours.

His hand comes down to the base of his cock, guiding his tip to your entrance, to where you need him most. His chest heaves in time with yours, your nipples brushing against him. He stays there for a moment, not moving. His eyes search your face, as if to confirm you’re real—that you’re truly here with him. You can see the need in his eyes. It’s not lust anymore—not just about sex. It’s never been about that. 

It has always meant more. 

Logan suddenly thrusts into you, bottoming out down to the hilt, stretching you open. You can feel him throb inside you. He groans at your ear. “So goddamn tight.” He doesn’t pull back out, his hips still, his cock buried deep inside you. You need him to move, need to feel his cock rub against your walls. You try to grind down on him, but he doesn’t let you. His hand latches onto your hip, keeping you in place. 

“Lo,” you whine. 

“Love when you call me that, sweetheart,” he growls, his hips still stuck in place. “Just wanna feel you like this for a minute. Don’t move.” 

It’s all too much. You need more, need him to fuck into you. Logan frees his hold on your hip, his hand trailing down between your bodies. He finds your clit, drawing achingly slow circles there. It’s nowhere near enough, but the temporary relief feels so good. 

“Always want you this close,” he murmurs, his hips finally starting to move, slowly but surely. You arch your back at the feeling. “Feels so good, so fucking good.” 

He’s taking his time, committing how you feel around his cock to his memory. He’s filling you up, taking in every inch you have to give him. You’re still adjusting to his size, his cock working you open with every thrust. His fingertips swirl around your clit, adding more pressure to the sensitive bud. You’re already close, already putty in his hands. 

Your walls flutter around him, drawing him in, deeper and deeper. 

“Should’ve just brought you in here when I got home,” he husks between starving kisses. “Shouldn’t have waited.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m here now,” you coo, your nails scratching at his back as he pounds into you, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“D-don’t know what I’d do without you,” he stutters, his voice suddenly shaky. He’s still fucking into you relentlessly, pumping in and out. “F-fucking need you all the time, princess.” His words and that nickname light a spark at the base of your spine. You can feel yourself melting, ready to come undone. 

“So close,” you choke out in between thrusts. 

You clamp down on him. “That’s it,” Logan whispers, his cock rutting into you, his fingers still circling your clit. He’s working you through it, taking care of you, making you feel good. “Come on my cock, pretty girl. Wanna feel it.” 

You can’t help but do as he says—that spark at the base of your spine spreading like wildfire. You’re moaning his name, walls squeezing around him, stars blurring your vision as your orgasm floods through you. But Logan isn’t slowing down, his cock pounding into you and his fingers stroking your clit long after you’ve finished. 

“Love feeling you come,” he mutters, biting your lip in between kisses. “Wanna feel you come again, princess.” 

You’re already beyond fucked out, overstimulated, and far too sensitive, but his words goad you along. “’S’so much, Lo,” you whimper, tripping over your sentence as he splits you apart, sinks into you, hitting your g-spot with every pump. 

“Know you can take it,” he praises, pressing a kiss just under your ear, then to your pulse point, and back up to your lips. “Know you can come again for me, can’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer. “A-anything for you.” You mean it, and he knows you do.

“Fuck,” he curses, his thrusts growing sloppier as the words fall from your lips. “F-fucking beautiful, perfect.” 

You look to where you two are connected—where you become one—and watch as his cock disappears into you. It’s too much, the sight, the feeling of him fucking into you, rubbing your clit, chasing your orgasm. It’s all it takes to have you falling apart underneath him, coming on his cock again. 

After a few soothing strokes to your clit, his nails trail up your body, his fingertips exploring your bare skin. Logan curses under his breath, your name on his lips. You know he’s close behind—almost there. 

“Don’t pull out,” you whisper in his ear, his cock pulsing inside you. “Stay.” 

That’s all the permission he needs to fill you up, his hips stuttering as he comes. “F-fuck,” he groans, his hand slipping under your back to hike you up, to bury himself as deep as possible, to hold you flush against him as he finishes inside you. 

He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, but he doesn’t pull out. He grabs your thigh and hoists your leg around his waist as he shifts you onto your side. You’re next to him now, your chests still pressed together.

“Lemme stay inside you,” he mumbles. 

You nod against him. “Okay.” You squeeze your leg around his waist, taking him deeper. 

The room is silent, your shared shallow breaths the only sound. The curtains dance in the breeze from the still-open window. Your eyes flutter shut, and Logan’s lips press a kiss to each of them. 

After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Don’t ever wanna spend a night without you.”

Your eyes flutter back open, and you’re met with Logan’s soft, sleepy face. His hair is a mess. You can’t help but smile at the intimacy—the domesticity. “You don’t have to,” you say back. 

“I mean it,” his voice is steady, firm, the sleepiness replaced suddenly with something more serious. “Need you with me all the time.”

“I know,” you say. And then he’s drawing stars across your back. It makes you think of the night this all started. The night everything changed. “I’ll always stay. Always.” You blink and an unexpected tear slips down your cheek. You swallow harshly, unprepared for the vulnerability of the moment. 

Logan immediately notices and brings his thumb up to your cheek, brushing the tear away. “Just want you. Give anything to make you mine.” 

“I already am,” is all you can manage to say. “Don’t need anything.” 

“Gonna give it to you anyway.” He kisses the spot where he wiped the tear away. 

You start to drift off—his arms around you, his cock still buried inside you—the thought of a forever with Logan replaying in your mind. 

You think he’s asleep, but then you hear his soft husk at your ear. “I love you. Always will.”

“I love you, too.”

[yougavememyopia]

Kidnapper! Yandere (2)

Tags: PT 1. 18+, desperate sub, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit), choking, handjob

-----------------------♡♡-------------------------

"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."

The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.

"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"

His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.

He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.

"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.

He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.

"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give you. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"

You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.

"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."

He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"

He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.

"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.

"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."

You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.

"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"

He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."

"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"

You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."

His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."

He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."

He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.

"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"

You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."

"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."

You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."

Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.

"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."

You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.

[letsbangts]

mutt || jjk

⤷ summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 6k+

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, porn with some plot

⟶ warnings: explicit language, jk is kinda toxic, jk being a bit manipulative, explicit sexual content: dirty talk, fingering, praising, teasing, kissing/making out, nipple sucking, spitting, oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough sex (doggy bcuz duh), pet names, multiple orgasms

↬ a/n: hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ mutt leon thomas 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

PART TWO ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

I can't smoke on reggie, so pardon my bluntness I see past pretty faces, so I got trouble trusting

You're sitting on your couch watching TV when you hear your phone vibrating against the coffee table where it lies. Sitting up and leaning over to pick it up and check, you gaze at the name read across the lit-up screen. You hold the phone staring at the call for a few long seconds before finally deciding to answer, releasing a heavy sigh as you do.

Because picking up at all means he has a chance tonight.

Feigning ignorance you ask, “Hey Kook, what's up?”

It's a question you already know the answer to. There is only one reason Jungkook calls you, and his reply confirms just that.

“I wanna see you come over,” he bluntly says into the phone like it's the most obvious thing, and him being right is what frustrates you.

Hearing that, a part of you is happy that he chose to call you and wants to be in your presence while the other part of you, the rational one, isn't as delighted knowing this moment will pass. It always does because that is just what you are to him, a moment.

You hear rustling in the background on his side of the phone, clearly distracted by other things while he talks to you.

“I don't know about tonight,” you hesitate, but make no move to hang up.

New crib, told her, "Come through," it's time to bring it in ... New condo, say your name at the front, you can stay if you want

Jungkook has played this game enough times to know exactly what to say. He’s a veteran player skilled in always finding the right words to switch you from the opposing side to his own.

He sighs, “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You reply.

The rustling in the background stops indicating he's halted his movements and focused on you. You bite your lip sensing Jungkook is about to make his way right through what you thought was your shrinking window of opportunity.

“Don’t act like you don't want to see me too. Don't be distant with me."

“I’m not being distant with you—“

"I've invited you to my new place to visit and you still haven't shown up. It’s not fair for you to withhold that pretty little face from me," he cuts you off persuading with his charm. And you swear you can see his puppy eyes through the phone.

"It's already late, Kook," you try.

"You can stay over if you want," he continues, "I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”

Your silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook pleads to sink his claws into you more.

He’s about to pull the phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears you sigh softly on the other end.

“Okay.”

"I can't wait to see you, baby. Just tell the concierge your name when you get here," he ends with.

And with a quiet parting, you finally hang up and get dressed. Making your way out the front door to your car, headed straight for the man who has you locked in his cage. You try not to ponder on whether he gave the front desk your name because he was hoping you'd come or if it was that he was expecting you to.

It's been one of those nights, one of those nights I ain't had in a minute ... But it's never the same as the first time we did it First time we did it

It would be a lie to say it didn't feel good to hear Jungkook begging to see you, you'd like to think he wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

While driving to his condo you start reflecting on how you got here. Thinking back to the autumn you met him: the way he smiled brightly at you when you entered the tattoo studio, the reassuring squeeze he gave your side to calm you down after noticing you jerk at the buzzing of the needle, and his light praises as he worked on your skin.

Permanently marking your body and your life.

He truly is a charming guy. His sweetness is what drew you in, the way it seemed he cared for you. Calling to check how your ink was healing only to come over to make sure you were right when you said it was doing fine. The late-night visits when you'd say you had a bad day at work. The random car rides after you'd mention you're bored. It was nice back then, you wonder when that changed.

The past seven months of running to Jungkook when he calls, feeling wanted and getting tangled in his sheets. To then be slapped in the face with the reminder that you're not the only one he has on a leash.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door. You raise a fist and knock on it, hearing footsteps approaching on the other side before the sound of it unlocking.

JK POV

Jungkook swings the door open wide and leans one arm on its frame looking down at you as you finally come face to face. It’s been over three weeks since he last saw you, and he knew you were slipping through his fingers. When he got his new place it was the perfect chance to see you so he's been trying to convince you to come over since he moved in.

As he takes you in, standing on his stoop with an expression clear you're unsure if you should be here. The tight white tube top snug on your chest and the low-rise jeans you're wearing allow the tattoo he put on you to peek out. Creating a feeling of possessiveness in him without you knowing what you're doing to him. Fuck, it’s been too long.

As you stand there with Jungkook's alluring appearance: white wifebeater that shows off his sleeve of ink, grey sweat pants hanging low, and hair wet—you feel your resolve crumble.

Fresh out of the shower, his musky clean scent engulfs you from here, as he flashes that smile that got you here in the first place.

“Hey, baby,” he says coolly. It's like he's completely unaware of the inner conflict you're going through.

You smile meekly as you brush past him to walk inside. He doesn't move aside, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to press up against him, and when you do, he closes the door with one hand as the other reaches for you. His fingers hook in the belt loop of your jeans to pull you closer he wraps an arm around your waist pulling you in your chest against his.

“You're still being cold with me, huh?" he lowers his head to meet your gaze, "You're breaking my heart, baby.”

You look up making eye contact with his sparkling orbs, "No, I told you I'm not."

"Then where's my kiss?" he questions.

And that's where your inner conflict ends.

But I'll let my guard down for you Said I'll put my guard down for you

You loop your arms around his neck and tilt your head up, his lips find yours at the same time his hands slide down around your hips, fingers slipping into your back pockets stretched taut over your ass and squeezing. You gasp at the feeling and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

JK POV

Jungkook knows that you’ve been pulling away from him. But he doesn't see what the problem is and if you were honestly done with him, then you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be twirling your tongue together with his.

Jungkook's head lowers to the crook of your neck and starts kissing to make you squirm the way he likes.

“I need to make up for my Y/N withdrawal,” he murmurs against your skin, and you giggle.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook remarks. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to bring a soft whimper out of you. “Why did you ghost me? You know that if you want to end this all you have to do is tell me.”

His lips make you shiver, "I-I know."

Jungkook’s lips graze over the shell of your ear “Then am I not satisfying you anymore,”

"No, t-that's not it. I've just been busy," you muster out an excuse.

Jungkook clicks his tongue at your answer and nips at your ear, "You lying to me now," he continues,

"We've always been honest with each other."

You stay silent.

You can't disagree with him, Jungkook has always been straight with you. Before you hooked up the first time he made it clear to you he wasn't looking for anything serious, and you told him you were okay with that. This was true at the time. Back then you were going through a dry spell so a man like Jungkook was just what you needed.

But as you two continued to spend time together, your feelings began to get more blurred. Although unsure if he would regard you as one, you considered him a friend. You both got along so great, not just sexually but beyond that. So as time went on your feelings for him only grew.

That should have been when you stopped what you two started but stupidly you didn't. And that's where your honesty fell short.

Jungkook has always been open with you that he was sleeping with other people, and it did hurt you knowing he was seeing other women because you were only sleeping with him. And as much as you could've done the same, you didn't. You were never the type of woman to sleep around with multiple people. It didn't feel right to you, plus you got everything you needed from Jungkook. So it stung more knowing that he didn't get the same from you, that you weren't enough.

But you enjoyed spending time with him, and you figured he must have enjoyed spending time with you just as much since he could have just stopped seeing you. So you supposed it must have been more than just the sex for him because if he only wanted that you knew he was also getting it from others.

Although lately things have felt different for you, your feelings for him remain but you no longer notice a friendship between you two. Maybe it was never really there to begin with but it started to seem like you were just a good fuck for him.

Just another contact in his phone, a quick and easy booty call. And you now realize you are.

As difficult as it was to keep all this to yourself, you knew if you told him that you had to stop sleeping with one another because you developed feelings for him—that would be it. He would have no reason to see or talk to you anymore. And foolishly that was something you weren't sure you were ready for.

So you decided to settle for just avoiding him instead. It kept you far enough from being hurt by his actions yet kept him close enough to seem like he was still around.

JK POV

Truthfully, Jungkook does like you, not enough to settle down but he wouldn't do that with anyone. You are sweet, beautiful and great in bed. It is easy to talk to you and fun to hang out with you—you're a great match for him honestly. But right now he’s young, and he wants to be carefree and have fun.

Jungkook has noticed that you seem to want more than what the two of you initially agreed upon, yet selfishly he doesn’t want to let you go. He likes having you around, he has never kept someone he was seeing around as long as you. Jungkook wouldn't say this out loud but you're special. He sees how different you are from the other women he hangs out with. Not just in the bedroom, and holy shit are you great in bed, but as a person.

He knows that you haven't been with anyone other than him this whole time, and secretly that made him happy. If what was going on between you two was to end, he knew it wouldn't be difficult for you to find someone to replace him. Someone who would likely give you more than Jungkook is. Any guy would jump at the chance to be with you and that makes his blood fucking boil, the idea of you with someone else.

People would probably say he's a asshole for still seeing you but Jungkook has never claimed to be perfect. That's why he takes time to give you extra attention when things feel shaky with you two, securing his hold on you. You’re always so good for him, always coming when he calls.

It’s probably fucked up, but even though he just told you to say the word to end all this, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

Said I'll be vulnerable So you can break my heart if you want to

When your silence continues Jungkook is aware you don't intend on giving him a truthful answer.

“Hmm if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Maybe you need to be reminded why you started coming to me in the first place,” he barks.

He moves his hands to your hips and pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the couch causing you to fall onto it. Jungkook stands over you looking down like a predator stalking his prey. The sight makes you wet, panties sticking to you.

Your heartbeat picks up as you gaze up at him. With a smirk, he uses one leg to tease your thighs apart. He leans forward his hands bracing on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and captures you in a heated kiss.

“Pants off, baby,” he growls into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. You whine in his mouth as you do as you’re told.

You missed this: the way he smells, how soft his lips are, the way he dominates you.

Once your jeans are off Jungkook lips leave yours and his knees drop to the carpet as he settles between your legs. His gaze sets on the permanent mark on your hip, the one he put there—the one that brought you two together. His eyes find yours as he gives it a peck then hooks his biceps under your thighs and he tugs you to the edge of the couch.

Jungkook draws out a moan from you when he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh. He bites at it before pulling back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver down your spine. You open your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a smirk.

He takes one hand between your thighs to yank your panties to the side, tattooed fingers spreading your folds apart.

When he leans back he murmurs, "So fucking pretty, I missed this pussy so much."

Making eye contact he dives in and licks a long, slow stripe up the front of the wet material, taking his time, your hips tilt up on their own for more.

“Kook,” you whine, the desperation in your voice only turns him on more.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Don't worry you know I always take care of you, baby, ” Jungkook purrs, he goes back in sucking your clit.

“Oh my fucking god,” you mewl.

“Shit, baby you're soaking,” he teases along with his touch down to your entrance. He pushes a finger in only to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it.

“Your pussy missed me just as much. That’s why you couldn't stay away,” he winks.

And once again, his being right frustrates you because you could never stay away. Like he knew the moment he called you would end up in the exact position you are now because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is evident by how quickly you showed up at his door.

JK POV

Jungkook pulls your panties down your thighs before guiding your legs to hang over his shoulders. Glancing up to meet your eyes, arms locked across your stomach to keep you in place, flashes you a cheeky smile then he starts eating you out like a starved animal. His tongue traces through your folds, lapping at your wet entrance while his thumb circles over your clit to work up more. Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your familiar taste.

You squeak, and Jungkook just thinks you're so damn cute he can't hold back a smirk as he pleasures you.

He enjoys the way your soft sighs transition into loud moans, hips matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. He likes making you squirm, he can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Kook,” you moan, “ah, fuck— f-feels so good,” your fingers make their way into his long locks and tug.

Smiling against your folds he hums, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit.

“I'm gonna cum,” you call out as he continues his assault against your clit, tongue returning to flick at the sensitive nub. 

Your hips rise as your orgasm washes over you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay put and take it. He can feel your legs tremble, your heels dig into his back as he sucks and licks you through your climax. He keeps going until you can't take anymore and push at his head, whimpering from overstimulation.

A final kiss to your pussy and Jungkook pulls back with a cocky grin on his face, chin glistening. He knows no one else will ever pleasure you like him. 

You barely manage to regulate your breathing before he slides your legs off his shoulders. His hands press on your thighs to encourage them to spread further before he slips two fingers knuckles deep into your cunt.

Your walls squeeze so tight around him, the sound of your overflowing juices as he pumps into you so filthy. You reach out to grab onto something and your hands find his bicep your nails digging into his skin.

Jungkook glances up and he can’t help but smile at your fucked out expression. You’re past the point of being able to talk, but that doesn't stop him.

“You missed me too, right baby?”

You can only whimper in response and he halts his movements, fingers deep inside you.

“What was that? Use your words, baby,” he taunts.

You nod desperately until you manage to find your voice.

“Yes.”

You look so innocent and obedient, it makes Jungkook want to fucking ruin you.

“Yes, what?” Jungkook mocks as he curves his fingers to caress over your velvety walls.

"Y-yes I," you take a deep breath, "I missed you," you finally manage to get out.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk and goes back to his fast pace. This time he doesn't hold you down when you fuck yourself on his hand, clenching around his fingers and trembling all over again. Jungkook watches you in awe with his mouth slightly agape as he works you through your second peak. He loves how your nails dig into him with your tight grip like you need him to ground yourself.

Once you finally start to come down your thighs shut around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears you whimper from oversensitivity, he finally relents. You open your legs so he can slip his fingers out, he lifts them to his mouth to suck them clean. As he watches your chest heaving with your head tip back and eyes closed, he rises to his feet.

In one swift move, Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder with zero struggle, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

You gasp out a laugh, “What are you doing?!”

You haven't seen this playful side of him in a while. This is the Jungkook know—the Jungkook you let your walls down for.

“We gotta get more comfortable, baby,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, “I can't fuck my girl properly on the couch.”

His girl. Your heart flutters at the notion but your stomach twists at the lie.

He easily opens his bedroom door with his free hand walks in and sets you down on the bed, making quick work of stripping out of his clothes, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. Bringing you back in the moment, your lingering thoughts pushed aside.

You remove your top and sit fully naked on his mattress. Staring up at him waiting for his next move.

He crawls over to you, you lay down as his body hovers over yours. You bite your lip as you look into his dark eyes.

"Now, will you finally tell me what's been going on?" His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours, his hand brushing some hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

Your foot lightly kicks his muscular thigh, "Nothing's going on," you sigh.

“Why are you pulling away from me?” His nose runs down from the side of your neck to the valley between your breasts, it makes you shiver and your nipples.

“I'm not,” you whisper.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I don't like it.”

A hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. He switches giving the other fleshy mound the same attention.

“It hurt me, baby,” his eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften.

You remember his words from the call that brought you here so you inquire, shifting the spotlight off you.

You reach up and hold his face in both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks, and quietly ask, "What about you? You said you had a rough night, what happened?"

Jungkook sighs. His forearms are on either side of you holding his weight as he leans down and presses his forehead against your chest.  

"I don’t want to talk about that. Let's focus on now, hmm?”

You press a kiss into his hair in agreement, and he tilts his head up to kiss your lips. Your arms come to loop around his neck to pull him closer. The two of you make out like teenagers, tongues colliding together.

“Kook, I need you. Please,” you moan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, mostly tongue and teeth, to your neck.

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before sitting up. You whine a little and Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist where he gives a teasing pinch.

“Can you get on all fours for me?”

Turning on your stomach, his hands go to your hips to guide you. You barely get on your knees as you feel Jungkook’s arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he hoists you up, a hand pressing against your back. He dips down and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Comfy?” He murmurs in your ear.

You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, and you nod, Jungkook can't resist ducking down to kiss you before pushing your legs apart. Then his hand and fingers are back on your pussy, rubbing it slowly and spreading more wetness.

“So fucking sexy, you look so fucking beautiful like this, baby,” he groans behind you, causing you to clench embarrassingly as a soft chuckle sounds behind you.

Although you are lost in a haze of lust and pleasure, you still know to take precautions when it comes to Jungkook.

"C-condom, Kook,"

He shakes his amusingly before he reaches towards his nightstand, the sight of a foil package in Jungkook’s hands brings you back to all those times you’ve seen this exact view. He rips it open, pulling out the condom as you watch his every movement, especially those tattoos and veins decorating his muscular arms through the entire process of putting it on and down his thick hardened length.

The arch in your back, when you press your ass up towards him, makes his cock start to leak against his stomach and he gives your ass a firm slap.

The tip of his cock grazes over your pussy, poking your clit and causing you to whimper needily Jungkook’s name. He can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds.

“Oh baby,” he utters huskily.

Gasping, you grip the sheets and hold them tightly in your hands,

“Fuck me, Kook, I wanna feel you.”

Jungkook doesn't waste any more time and lines himself up to your entrance and he pushes his length into you sliding in until he’s pressed to the hilt. You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls pulsing, filled up and so sensitive.

Jungkook leans forward, hands resting by the pillow under your head on either side of you until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod.

"This pussy is all mine, right?" Jungkook asks through clenched teeth, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over. 

“Yes, all yours,” you whisper, gasping when Jungkook starts thrusting in and out slowly, your mouth falling open right away at the sensual feeling of being stretched.

“Not anyone else's?” he hums like he doesn’t already know.

Even with your mind somewhere else you still feel the sting of what he’s asking you and the irony of it but somehow you manage to nod anyway.

“No,” you choke out.

He pulls out, not fully just enough to let his tip in as he starts sliding back in, this time even deeper than before.

“Good,” he whispers into your ear, straightening as he grabs your hips and starts moving faster. Ramming his hips into you causing his balls to hit your swollen clit which makes your head spin. Fingers digging into your hips so tightly that they might bruise later but the extra added pain adds just the right amount to your already existing pleasure and the tingle between your legs.

JK POV

"Ah, don’t stop, oh god—” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. Jungkook can’t stop now, not even if he wanted to, not when it feels this good. You’re so fucking precious.

His hands grip you even tighter, hips moving faster when you beg him to, your soft moans and whimpers of Jungkook’s name coax him to move faster and deeper. Jungkook momentarily pauses as he grabs your ass and pulls your asscheeks apart, getting a good view of your pussy swallowing him.

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper.

“God, you're so fucking amazing, baby. Feels so good,” he growls.

Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake and can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close. He feels his balls tightening and he knows he’s just seconds from cumming too.

“Come with me, baby,” he grunts, “I want to feel you come again on my cock.”

The evident sound of skin-on-skin clapping echoes in your ears and around Jungkook’s bedroom and he takes no mercy on you, chasing his high and you cling to the sheets for dear life.

He feels good, too good to be true and you clench around him even more tightly, almost shrieking that you’re already ready to cum.

“Oh fuck, Kook, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—” With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your third orgasm of the night hits you.

“Shit,” Jungkook curses, his breathing harsh and ragged, dick twitching right before a throaty growl makes its way out of his mouth and he’s finally cumming.

His head tilts back and his eyes screw shut as he comes with you. He fills up the condom, thrusts slowing down until they halt. You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. You cringe at the feeling but miss him inside you right away, the empty feeling making its way to your heart. But as soon as Jungkook’s cock is out of you, your whole body fails you and you fall onto your back, eyes to the ceiling.

He smiles at the way you’re still trembling as he disposes of the condom. He then joins you back on the bed, he lies next to you stretching out an arm for you and you move closer to him your face now buried in his chest.

Your rushed and loud breaths can be heard in the room. Jungkook brings a hand to your lower back to rub gentle circles, “You okay, baby?”

"Mhm," you nod with a small sigh.

“That was the best sex I had in a while,” he chuckles, “You wore me out, baby,” closing his eyes as you both lay there for a moment, bodies still hot and sweaty.

"I don't even know why I bother with other women," he comments, "I should've just called you first."

The heat in your body vanishes, you feel like your blood has drained from your body, and Jungkook's room now feels cold. You lift your head from his chest tilting your head up and look at him.

You dreadfully ask, "What do you mean?

"The girl I had over here before," he grimaced, "Couldn't hold a candle to you."

Your stomach twists and you feel your heartbeat pick up so much you hear it in your ears.

You clarify, "Before? You mean before you called me?"

He looks at you and nods, "Mhm."

"So, you had sex with someone else before you called me?"

"Yeah," he lets out a breath as he shakes his head, "It was such a disappointment, I had to end the night right."

You think back to the call before you came here:  

"I miss you, baby. No one else makes me feel the way you do. You know how much you mean to me, how much I trust you. I had a rough night and it's been a minute since I've seen you. Are you trying to hurt me more like this?”

Suddenly you feel vulnerable, a disgusted look forms on your face as you come to the realization, and you sit up abruptly.

Jungkook looks at you with confusion as you turn to face him.

You furrow your brows, "Is that what you were talking about when you said you had a rough night?

"Woah. What's wrong, baby?"

His ignorance of your question is all the confirmation you need, your heart cracks. Moments from earlier now make you feel like a fool.

His freshly showered body when you arrived wasn't because he came home from work but because he was cleaning himself from the sex he just had and when you asked him what was wrong before you fucked and he didn't want to talk about it.

You try to swallow down the lump in your throat as you look around for your clothing, and you lean over to retrieve the ones you see. You begin to get dressed still stinking of sex, only reminding you of the mistake that you've made adding to your sensation of disgust.

"Where are you going? I thought you were staying?"

You ignore his and continue getting dressed as your vision starts to blur.

Jungkook reaches out to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. He notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey, there's no reason to be upset, baby,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, his eyes widen and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that this is serious, “That's fucking low even for you.”

"You know I sleep with other people, Y/N," he notes calmly.

"Yes, I know you sleep with other people, but I didn't think you'd have me in your bed before your sheets could even dry from your last fuck," you scoff already up and headed for the living room for the remainder of your clothing.

She said, "Take your time, what's the rush?"

Pulling on the rest of your clothes now fully dressed yet you feel more naked than you were mere minutes ago. You sense Jungkook's presence behind you and turn to resume your rant.

"Do you even care about how that makes me feel? How when some random girl can't please you, you call me as your second pick, like I'm just some backup pussy."

JK POV

Jungkook should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, he smirks, "You would have been my first if you hadn't been ignoring me."

You shoot him a look of disbelief, clearly not amused by this response. You move past him to his front door, but Jungkook quickly steps to block you from leaving.

"Hey, hey, hey wait," he grabs your shoulders to stop you, you shrug them off and his arms fall to his side. His eyes meet your own as he rebuts,

"Come on, you know it's not like that with us. You know what you mean to me. I don't see why it's a big deal. I mean, I wear a condom," he shrugs.

"That's not the point," you exasperate, "I didn't think you would do something so disrespectful, Jungkook. Instead of taking the time to have a break in between your dick appointments, you rush to call me over like I'm your bitch."

"Hold on a sec, I respect you," he tries to defend.

"Having respect for someone and disrespecting them are two very different things," you shake your head and continue, "You didn't even mention having someone here tonight until after you slept with me. And said it as if telling me I was the better lay of the night was a compliment," you laugh humorlessly.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Y/N," he says with a heavy exhale.

"If you don't understand why I'm upset Jungkook there isn't anything to do," your voice defeated.

Jungkook knows this is his chance to fight for you or at least apologise but this is who he is. He’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not going to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll stay anyway.

"What can I say, he says,

"Baby, I'm a dog, I'm a mutt"

They say if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas but all you've gotten is heartbreak.

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↬ a/n: okay so i have an idea for a part 2 of this that i'm probably going to work on once i finish a drabble that's currently in progress for a request...so maybe look forward to that :) let me know if that would be something you're interested in! PART TWO & if you made it this far thank you <3