#Spin Off Bitter Sweet

[thiccpettybitch]

Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 1 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Phew, alright, I have to admit, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write. My self-doubt and anxieties are having a go at me, and I can't help but feel like I rushed it a little. But you know what? I'd rather get it out there than keep overthinking it until I can quote it word for word.

I know it might be a bit confusing or jumbled right now, but I promise it'll get easier to understand as the story unfolds. There are so many good moments planned that I can't wait to share with you 😭

Today's been a self-doubt day for me, but hey, it happens. Now, let's talk about Sweet Sorrow, the spin-off of my baby Bitter Sweet. I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think about it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

Also, I want to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the support. We've reached over 1000 likes and over 100 reblogs, and I'm incredibly grateful for every single one. Your likes, questions, comments, and asks truly make my day brighter. I can't say it enough – thank you all from the bottom of my heart!💖

(I’ve also gotten all your asks so don’t worry! Once the next chapter of Bitter Sweet is out, i will begin slowly releasing them as well! ty again, ilu all!)

Now, I'm going to take a deep breath and keep pushing forward with the story. With your support, I know I can make it even better, and I'm excited to see where this journey takes us.

Part 2

As you find yourself hurtling towards an inevitable end, you gaze upward, and there is Miguel, falling with you. His hand reaches out with desperate hope, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance between you. Despite his bloodied and battered state, he grits his teeth, calling out for you with a heart-wrenching cry. You don’t have the strength to call out for him, tears well up in your eyes, suspended in the air like tiny, glistening droplets, as you continue to fall.

You know he won't be able to catch you; the fall is too fast, the distance too great. However perhaps selfishly so, you still use the last of your strength to call out for him, begging him to save you.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the Green Goblin appears, swooping in on his glider. He crashes into Miguel's side, sending him careening into another building. You close your eyes letting out another sob as you watch The Green Goblin looks down at you, his face twisted with malevolence. He gives you a small, taunting wave, relishing, before setting his sights on Spiderman, on Miguel.

Will it hurt?

As you plummet, the inevitable ground approaches, and you can't help but think that this is it. In a final desperate act, you call out Miguel's name, as if it's your way of making a lasting impact on the world. The prospect of death might be beyond your control, but no one can take away the memories of his name, his face, his smile, his touch, and his love. They will be the last thoughts in your mind before you touch the ground. Before you die.

With a loud gasp, the back of your jacket unexpectedly snags on a flag post, suspending you high above the ground. As you look down, the world spins around you, making your head swirl with dizziness. Panic takes hold, and you cry out in a desperate attempt to free yourself. The flagpole protests with creaks, and you find yourself trapped, unable to move without facing a deadly plunge. It's as if fate is playing one last cruel joke on you, leaving you helplessly suspended, caught between life and death.

---

Miguel's expression contorted with pain as the glider collided with him, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. Amidst the chaos, Osborn's sinister laughter echoed in his ears, fueling his determination. He mustered every ounce of strength, pushing himself up, his talons digging into the glider's metal.

‘’Miguel--!!’’

Rage and panic surged through him, driving Miguel to lash out. With a fierce punch, he thrust his hand through the metal, causing cables and sparks to fly, but he paid no mind to the chaos around him. Osborn cursed and fought back, trying to halt his advance. Fingers closed around Miguel's mask, but he didn't care anymore, not even as the mask was yanked off, and their eyes met. A roar escaped his lips as he smacked Osborn in the face, the broken glider sending the villain flying into a nearby building.

Despite his aching body, Miguel webbed onto two buildings simultaneously, propelling himself forward through the air. He ignored the pain, focused only on reaching his destination. Landing on the roof of the building where you had fallen, he scrambled up on all fours, rushing to the edge. Before he could react, a blinding light burst through the air, and he collided with a solid mass, sending him falling backward.

Looking up, Miguel froze in astonishment. Before him stood a large, futuristic-looking Spiderman, his face concealed behind a mask, yet the intensity of his gaze felt palpable. It was as if he was scrutinizing Miguel's very soul. But the urgency in your cry brought him back to the present. Determined to reach you, he rose to his feet, ready to dash over, only to be halted by the other Spiderman's outstretched hand, signaling him to stop.

"Don't kid," the man's voice resonated with a deep yet strangely familiar tone.

"What- ¡Bastardo! ¡Fuera de mi camino!" Miguel practically spat, his frustration boiling over as he tried to move past the other Spiderman. But his defiance was met with an iron grip on his suit, forcing him back to the ground with a powerful slam. Despite his own strength, Miguel found himself overpowered as the other Spiderman held him down effortlessly with just one arm.

Rage surged through him as he yelled in frustration, attempting to push the man off, but to no avail. The other Spiderman responded by slamming him back down, now using both arms to maintain control. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity of the moment was almost suffocating.

"Listen to me!" the other Spiderman growled; his voice urgent. "I can save her! But you have to listen to me; I don't have much time!"

Miguel's eyes locked onto the stranger's face, wide with unfiltered rage. Their attention was momentarily drawn to the ledge by the sound of a creaking pole and your desperate cries.

"Hijo de puta! Get off me, I’ll rip your head off!" Miguel yelled in frustration, but his defiance only resulted in another punishing slam into the roof, leaving him gasping for breath.

As if by some futuristic mechanism, the man's mask suddenly dissolved before Miguel's eyes, leaving his face fully exposed in an instant. He froze, staring up in pure shock.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, kid," Miguel looked up at the older version of himself, utterly speechless and shocked.

"¡Escúchame!" The older man's voice echoed with intensity, his crimson eyes locking fiercely with Miguel's brown ones.

"Even if you save her now, she'll be in danger again, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next shocking week. It doesn't matter! She'll keep facing death over and over!" Miguel shook his head, about to protest, but he was forcefully pushed back against the roof, the pain shooting through him.

"SHUT UP!" the older version of himself shouted, cutting off any further objections.

"She is destined to die! Because of you! Because of who you are, because of who WE are! But I can save her… I can save her life, you understand?’’ Miguel gazed up at the man, still in shock and pain, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward the ledge of the building.

"I can save her. But she can never see you again. She will be safe with me; she can have a life with me, but only if I take her with me. You have to let her go." The older version of himself pressed him down before rising and leaning over Miguel, hovering just above him, his finger pointing directly at his face.

"You go over there now, you save her?" He pointed towards the edge. "She dies. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. You have to make a choice, right now." Miguel swallowed hard, his eyes glossing over as he looked at the ledge and then back at the older version of himself.

"I…" Miguel hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

"CHOOSE, NOW!" The older Miguel barked, his teeth showing in a fierce display of impatience.

"I… Save her! I love-" Miguel's voice trembled as he looked up at the older version of himself. To his surprise, the man's expression softened slightly. In that fleeting moment, they shared a connection. Miguel blinked, and just like that, the mask formed back over the older man's face, concealing his emotions once more. He stood tall, turning away from Miguel, leaving him sitting there.

"I'll keep her safe. Tienes mi palabra," the man said, glancing briefly over his shoulder before leaping off the side of the building.

Miguel remained sitting there, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through him. He watched as bright lights illuminated the scene, listening to your desperate calls for him. His entire body went rigid. He dashed up, rushing to the side, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the portal closing, taking you away with it. You were gone, leaving him standing there alone, his fists trembling at his sides. The distant sounds of the city were drowned out by the deafening sound of his heart hammering in his ears.

---

The flagpole keeps creaking, and panic engulfs you as you frantically search for anything to hold onto, causing you to swing back and forth in desperation. With every creak, the pole bends a little more, making your heart race even faster. You stretch upward, trying to grasp onto it as it starts bending downwards.

Your hands wrap around the pole, but you feel yourself slipping, and in desperation, you cry out for Miguel, for anyone, to come and save you. The bolts that attach the flagpole to the wall begin to move as your weight puts strain on the weak fastenings, threatening to give way.

In a terrifying moment, the small flagpole is pulled out of the loosening bolts, and you scream as it drops, together with you.

Suddenly, a figure casts a shadow above you, and you look up just in time to witness another Spiderman's arrival. His talons dig into the wall as he slides down, causing it to crack apart. In a swift move, he snatches the collar of your shirt, catching you, and with incredible strength, he pulls you up and holds you with one arm. For a moment, you stare at each other, shocked and slightly bloodied you stare up at the eyes of his mask slowly narrowing, as if he waited for something to happen.

But before you can comprehend what's happening, the man throws you through a portal, and you scream out for Miguel, your voice echoing in desperation. He follows right behind you, and the world around you shifts drastically.

The surroundings are strange, uncanny, and constantly morphing into different shapes, colors, and constructs. It feels as if you're floating in space, yet there's a sense of movement, as if the world around you is shifting and transforming. Shapes, sounds, and colors blend together, creating an otherworldly experience. It's as if you've entered a realm where time, space, and reality intertwine, leaving you in a state of awe and bewilderment.

Suddenly, the man reappears, the other Spiderman, leaping towards you with a trademark Spiderman leap. Panic grips you as you scramble to escape. Whoever this guy was, whether he wore a Spiderman suit or not, he wasn’t Miguel.

You flail your arms and legs, akin to a dog attempting to swim for the first time. However, before you can fully comprehend what's happening, a hand snatches you up and propels you towards yet another bright light. Your body is flung through the portal, leaving you disoriented and landing on your front in a large and dimly lit room.

Slowly, you push yourself up on your arms, whispering a quiet, pained "ow..." The realization of the situation dawns on you, and your eyes shoot open. Flipping over onto your back, you begin to crawl backward, putting distance between yourself and the man who is stepping toward you.

Every muscle in your body tenses with fear and uncertainty. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest as you try to make sense of where you are and what's happening. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere. You don't know who this man is or what he wants, and your instincts urge you to keep your distance.

"Lyla!" His voice startled you, and as you turned around, a cheerful yellow hologram of a woman materialized on the man's shoulder.

[Oh, hey Boss~ How’d it go- Oh…]

Suddenly the hologram playfully teleported in front of you. Instinctively, you scooted back, keeping both of them at arm's length. The hologram, Lyla, flickered momentarily before returning to the man's shoulder.

"Check her vitals and bring up the statistics from her dimension," he says, drawing a circle with his hand to encompass all of you. As he walks past, you scramble away, realizing that he doesn't seem interested in you. Making his way over to some monitors, he starts typing something in.

[Got it]

The hologram nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders as a bright yellow light shines over you, seemingly scanning your body. You instinctively move away, flinching as the light flicks from one side of you to the other.

[Elevated heart rate; 123 bpm. The respiratory rate is increased, steady at 15. Without a thorough check-up, I can't provide precise statistics. However, based on a quick review, she shows possible signs of anxiousness and confusion, and she might be somewhat disoriented. Additionally, she could be showing signs of paleness, which might indicate a drop in her blood pressure, although that could also be due to a lack of sun exposure... sorry to call you out, y/n]

"Lyla..." The man's voice carried a cautious tone as he swiftly typed on a hologram keyboard, summoning screens before him.

[The canon is stable, no disruptions or anomalies detected.] The hologram swiftly flicked around and settled in front of you, making you flinch involuntarily.

[I'm so excited to have you here! I mean, hiiiii! My name is Lyla! I have so many questions for you~ By the way, is that your natural hair color? Because-] Lyla's bubbly introduction is interrupted as you ask, your hands trembling slightly.

"How do you know my name…?" you inquire, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

Lyla flicks, and in an instant, her back is turned towards you, now facing Miguel with her hands on her hips. Then she flicks again and reappears in front of him.

[You didn't tell her?] she asks Miguel, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Haven't really had the chance to yet," he snapped at her, clearly annoyed, as he finished whatever he was doing on the monitors. Finally, he turned around to face you.

The man walked over towards you, and fearfully, you scrambled backward. He stopped, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, and let out a tired sigh. "I won't hurt you," he reassured you. Despite his words, you still flinched and moved back even more as he takes another step towards you.

"You have my word; you are safe here. I just need to give you this," he said, holding up what seemed like a futuristic watch.

As he moves forward and you flinch back once again, your back pressed against the wall, he lets out a frustrated sound. Suddenly, he leaps at you and snatches your wrist, causing you to cry out and instinctively smack your closed fist against his chest.

"Stop! Wait! Just—just hold still!" You try to pull away from him as he tris to calm you down, his grip tight as he tries to hold you in place.

"No, stop moving, I'm—stop," he says wearily, trying to get you to calm down.

"No! Let go of me! HELP ME, SOMEONE, PLEASE!" Panic surges through you, and your body is on high alert as you thrash around in his grip, your eyes darting around the room for someone, anyone.

He snatches both of your wrists, trying to hold you still, but your panic escalates into a full-blown panic attack. You pull, hit, and kick him, desperately trying to pry your hands away and get away from him.

"Just—STOP!" The man finally says, grabbing the bottom of your face and forcing you to look up at him. You resist at first, attempting to break free from his grip, until you finally open your eyes and freeze. As you watch, the Spider-Man mask covering his face dissolves away, revealing his face.

The man standing in front of you was a spitting image of Miguel, a bit older, with a few more wrinkles likely from frowning and stress rather than actual age, you would have guessed. He stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Shocked and unable to move, you could only stand there, gazing up at him.

He took the opportunity to snap the bracelet onto your wrist. It wasn't tight, but it felt secure enough that it wouldn't easily come off. You didn't even notice, too absorbed in staring at his face.

Finally, Miguel, older Miguel, let go of you and straightened up, his gaze turned away with a noticeable frown on his face.

"Who..." you asked, your eyebrows tightly together as you took in his appearance.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I lead an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" he began explaining.

"What- no," you interrupted, taking a step back and shaking your head, a look of confusion and disapproval on your face, "I know Miguel, you—you're not my—"

"I am Miguel, but not your Miguel, I am from another dimension," he clarified, attempting to make sense of the situation.

[This dimension, to be more specific], Lyla chimed in, appearing hovering above his shoulder, seemingly nonchalant.

You shook your head slowly, your lip trembling as you glanced down at the floor, trying to process what you had just been told. You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to stop the swirling emotions from overwhelming you. It was as if by not agreeing and not wanting it to be true, you hoped somehow to fix the situation.

"I don't—I don't know you. I want to go back; I need to make sure Miguel—MY Miguel is okay!" You push past him and walk over to where the portal had been, running your hands over the surface of the wall, searching for some sort of button or switch.

"You can't go back," he says firmly.

"What?" you ask, turning around to face him. "What do you mean 'can't'? You brought me here, so you can take me back!" you protest.

"You," he sighed, glancing around the room, searching for the right words before finally closing his eyes in defeat. He looked at you with a serious expression, "You were supposed to die tonight, but I managed to find a way around it. However, for that to happen and for you to survive, you can't.... you can't go back. I'm sorry."

"You're lying... I survived! I've been in dangerous situations before! I—this was no different, I got saved—" you protested, your emotions running high.

"You got saved by ME; I interfered. Without it, you would have been killed," he explained, his hands now on his hips as he walked over to you slowly.

"In our worlds... as Miguel and y/n, we are the equivalent of a Spiderman," he pointed at his own chest and then gestured to yours, "and a Gwen Stacy."

You frowned, looking at his hand, and he let out a quiet sigh. "It's a messed up 'never meant to be' canon event that is unavoidable, trust me – I have tried. As soon as versions of us meet, it starts."

"What starts?" you asked, feeling confused.

"A canon event, something that can't be avoided without the risk of total and complete destruction of that dimension," he responded matter-of-factly.

You let out a bitter laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to believe that an entire dimension, world, universe—whatever—would collapse just because versions of us start dating?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, taking a step towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he towered over you. "In every universe, versions of us date, and you, almost every version of you, die. That's your story."

Miguel leaned back, looking down at you with disdain. "Or, if you're lucky, I'm the one who dies. Either way, that's our story, our fate. If anything, or anyone, breaks that cycle, THAT then threatens that dimension's safety."

"Why?!" Your voice broke, and a mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside you, tears building up in your eyes.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because it's a canon event! And canon events cannot be broken without the risk of complete multidimensional collapse."

Everything he said sounded so foreign to you, yet strangely believable. The sincerity in his voice and the evidence you had witnessed so far led you to believe him. He didn't come across as a man who would lie. But believing his words didn't mean you had to accept them.

Your hands felt clammy, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. A headache began to pulse in your temples, and as you looked up, the room seemed to spin around you, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. This couldn't be happening... this couldn't be real.

"I-I want to go back. Take me back..." you desperately say, your words a mix of a plea and demand.

"I can't do that," he responds, his hands on his hips.

"Let me go back!" you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I can't do that," he responds again, avoiding your gaze, a heavy weight in his voice.

You feel yourself heat up, anger and panic mixing into a dangerous and unfamiliar mess inside you, threatening to erupt. Suddenly, a door next to you opens, revealing two people dressed in Spiderman suits—one wearing a blue vest, and the other clad in a fully black suit with white marks.

"Take her to my quarters, let her lay down and rest until I find a place for her to stay," Miguel mumbles, tiredly rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turns around to leave.

"Don't touch me... I’m not going anywhere!" you warn, your voice firm

Miguel stops and his head whips around as he looks down at you, his eyebrows raised. The unspoken question, dare, hung heavily in the air.

Is that so?

---

You thrashed around, your fists smacking into his bulky back as he had you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curses and threats spilled from you, but he remained nonchalant, walking ahead with a frown on his face. Your yelling caught the attention of people around you, and as you looked up, you realized that everyone was wearing different kinds of suits, all with some sort of Spider symbol or design.

After an awkwardly long elevator ride, during which you had tired yourself out with all your kicking and thrashing, you heard the ding as the elevator doors opened. Stepping outside, he carried you until he ended up in front of a pair of doors. He dropped you on your feet and you opened your mouth about to curse him out when he spun you around and pushed you inside.

"You—YOU! You can't just... I HAVE RIGHTS!" you shouted in frustration and anger.

"Oh? Great, oh wow" he responded sarcastically, barely letting you get your words out.

"AND YOU CAN'T JUST, JUST TAKE ME AND—" you continued to vent your anger.

"Uh huh, uh huh," he nodded, his hands on his hips, watching you storm over towards him with a mocking smile on his face.

The doors closed abruptly in your face, and you stopped, your eyes wide with pure shock. For a moment, you were left speechless, trying to process what had just happened, your eye twitching in annoyance.

And then? Then you began breaking stuff.

You were yelling a mixture of gibberish and curses, you had been smacking your hand against the metal sliding doors for what felt like hours, kicking at them, and demanding to be let out. When that didn’t work you began trashing the place, kicking chairs out of your way, smacking over books and bowls and- well… the place wasn’t really decorated much. Until finally you were left pacing back and forth, a pillow held tightly in your hands, it was the only thing around not yet on the floor.

You finally stopped, backing up to take in your surrounding and the state of the room, as your back hit the wall, you slowly came to a stop, dropping the pillow you had been holding. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in that moment, you didn't really care; your mind was not thinking straight.

Your eyes shifted around the room, taking in the destruction you had unintentionally caused. Finally, you slumped back, feeling your body slide down against the wall until you landed softly on the floor. You pulled your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them hiding your face.

In your mind, this felt like a terrible nightmare you desperately wanted to wake up from. You yearned to open your eyes and find yourself back in the safety of your bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the blinds. The comforting routine of having breakfast with your aunt and uncle, followed by a trip to school to meet your friends and, of course, Miguel. It filled your heart with a sense of normalcy you sorely missed.

Your chest felt so tight for a moment that you thought you might be having a heart attack, but it was more likely a panic attack taking hold of you. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the silence around you only amplified your distress. It felt as if the world was closing in, leaving you struggling for breath and unable to think straight.

You desperately needed to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Lifting your tear-stained face from your arms, you took in the surroundings of the room, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity. It was a small, cramped space with a kitchen area, a bedroom, a compact living area with a large desk, and finally, a door that you presumed led to the bathroom. At first glance, it didn't look like a jail cell, but then why did it feel as though invisible metal bars were closing in around you?

Your eyes shifted to your wrist, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. The braided bracelet encircling it suddenly felt so heavy, like a weight pulling you down. Your chin trembled, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you began to weep, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against the bracelet.

After what felt like hours of crying, you noticed a bright yellow light shined down on you. Looking up, you watched as Lyla materialized in front of you, silently observing you.

[Miguel has instructed me to give you a quick tour of his quarters. Would you... like me to show you around?]

If you had to guess, you would probably say she's some kind of AI; thus, who knows if she could feel sympathy or even understand what you were going through. Running the back of your hands over your eyes, you wiped away some of the tears, but you were still unable to get your breathing under control.

[Is there anything I can help you with? I could pull up a few breathing exercises or calming videos of puppies if you would like?]

You eyed her for a moment, contemplating whether she was being genuine or making fun of you. Based on the tone of her voice and the hologram itself, Lyla seemed to be at least trying to comfort you.

[I have to admit... I'm not really good at this. It's not as if Miguel possesses a wide range of emotions.]

"What time is it?" You asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at small talk.

[It's approximately six PM.]

"Why is it so dark in here?"

[Miguel prefers it that way. In his work station and quarters, you'll find the lighting is usually kept dim.]

You glance around the room and realize that one of the reasons it feels like a glorified prison cell is the lack of a window.

"Does he hate windows too?" you ask bitterly.

[No. However, I was instructed not to open it due to...] She trails off, nervously flickering her gaze around the room.

"Due to what?" you press, narrowing your eyes as you slowly stand.

[There are napkins in the third drawer of his desk, please help yourself,] she said, smoothly changing the subject.

Silently, you walked over to the desk, your gaze fixated on the drawers. You made a mental note to check them all out later, when you weren't being watched. You pulled on the drawer, and there, on top of some files, you found the box of napkins. You consciously ignored the box of lotion that lay behind it.

"Terrific..." you muttered to yourself, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Why can't you open a window?" you demanded.

[I am fully capable of opening a window, it's—] Lyla began to explain.

"Why were you instructed not to, then?" you interrupted, your upper lip twitching in annoyance.

Lyla fell quiet, flickering around until she reappeared in front of you on the desk. You wiped your nose and some tears off your face, feeling a mix of emotions. Suddenly, a noise on the far wall caught your attention. You looked over and watched as some blinds, which had been impossible to spot in the dark, cracked open, allowing a stream of light to finally shine in.

[Ooh, WOW! Haha! Look at this place! You ripped it apart! That's so funny, Miguel is gonna lose his mind,] she exclaimed.

"Is he violent?" you ask, making your way towards the window.

[What? Of course not! Well, if you're wondering if you have anything to fear, then no,] she assures you.

"Oh good, I'm glad my kidnapper doesn't have violent tendencies," you retort. There was a time when you might have felt guilty about your attitude, but after everything that had happened, you couldn't care less.

[Would you like me to put on some music? I know what you like! I have a few playlists saved based on your—] she begins to suggest.

"How high up are we? Are you able to remove the blinds completely?" you inquire, glancing out the window as you test the strength of the metal blinds.

[y/n... Even if I opened those blinds, and even if you weren't several hundred feet above the ground (I do not have permission to disclose HQ information with you), and you could get out...] Lyla flicked to your side, her avatar looking at you with sympathetic eyes, or as close to it as she could manage.

[You're not in your own dimension. You're not even really in your own timeline; you're about an average human's lifetime ahead of your own timeline. Even if I let you out... you'd have nowhere to go], she gently explained, delivering the disheartening truth.

As the blinds peeled back loudly, the entire window was revealed, causing you to flinch instinctively. You turned your head quickly to see Miguel, the other Miguel, leaning against the doorframe with his hand sliding off a button.

Glancing outside, you watched the city before you, and the knot in your stomach grew. Everything looked futuristic, with cars soaring down below and buildings towering even taller than those back home.

Home...

The only thing that looked remotely similar to home were the large, over-the-top billboards littering the city. You were too high up to actually see the people walking down below, which did prove that Lyla hadn't been lying.

Lyla flicked over to Miguel, hovering above his shoulder, engaged in a quiet conversation with him. As you turned towards them, the growing tightness in your chest returned. Slowly, you walked away from the window, positioning yourself on the opposite side of him—more importantly, the opposite side of the door. Miguel casually observed you, and for the first time since you had seen his face, he wasn't frowning. You glanced at the open doorway behind him and then back at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

"Don't..." He casually warned, staring down at you.

Turning around, you began walking towards the kitchen, attempting to feign hunger by casually sliding your hand over your stomach. But as soon as you were near the door, your only plan was to get the hell out of there and away from him.

With a swift move, you tried to slip past him, but he reacted lightning-fast, grabbing your wrist and hoisting you up in the air. He forcefully pulled you backwards, leaving your toes barely touching the floor, before throwing you onto his couch.

"Enough already—" Miguel started to say, but he had to stop himself as you made another desperate attempt to dash past him. He pushed you down against the couch, one hand on your chest.

"Let me out of here! Send me home!" you hissed, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY! If you go back there, your whole dimension will disappear, together with everything in it! Everyone you know, your friends, family, loved ones—everyone will die," Miguel explained, his hand keeping you in place as you stared up at him, breathing heavily, and eventually slumping back against the couch.

You didn't have the energy to question him further. You smacked his hand away from you, sitting up and leaning forward. Your arms rested on your knees, and you covered your face with your hands. The amount of information from unreliable sources was overwhelming, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

You fell backwards against the couch, silently staring out the window. For a brief, beautiful moment, your brain seemed to take pity on you and dissociated from reality, allowing you to watch the sun finally set and the darkness of the night slowly taking over. While Miguel occupied himself with some paperwork, speaking into his bracelet, and moving about his quarters, he eventually settled down across from you on the couch.

As you continued to gaze out the window, he watched you intently, about to say something when you interrupted him. "Is Miguel safe—my Miguel?"

He nodded silently, and you closed your eyes, letting out a breath. "I... I won't ever see him again, will I?" you asked, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked over at him.

"No," he answered quietly.

Closing your eyes, you felt tears streak down each cheek. "Why is this happening? Why—" you began, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

Miguel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at the spot above your head before his gaze settled on you, making it appear as though he almost looked down at you as he spoke.

"Every Spider-person's life is connected, woven together in this... beautiful web of life and destiny. It's called the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse," Miguel explained.

As you blinked in bewilderment, a look of pure confusion crossed your face. Miguel, looking annoyed, glanced away before sighing.

"Or... The Spiderverse, if that makes it easier," he muttered. "It's easier if we just—Ugh. Lyla, do the thing!"

[Huh? What thing?]

Miguel's stoic expression melted into one of confusion and borderline bewilderment. He shook his head, clearly perplexed, and turned to glance at Lyla, ‘’What- What do you mean ‘what thing?’ The information, explainy thing!’’

[Oh, okay!] Lyla responded.

As the blinds fall over the window again, you jump in your seat, and suddenly the room transforms from pitch black to a display of red laser-like shapes forming in front of you. The shapes resemble hundreds, if not thousands, of small webs, all interconnected. Each one takes the form of a small heptagon with tiny images inside, depicting various events. However, the images are too small to make out clearly, and Miguel mumbles something about it being easier to show in the "big room."

You lean forward, engrossed in his explanation. "These nodes," he points them out for you, "they're where the lines converge; they are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider's story, every time." You watch as Miguel leans forward, his eyes shifting from one node to another as he speaks.

"Some good..." He looks over at another node. "Some bad..."

"Some very bad." He stops at the node in front of you, his gaze shifting up to meet yours.

"That's how the story's supposed to go. The canon events are the connections that bind our lives together," Miguel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. "But those connections can be broken. That's why anomalies..." He looked away from you, his expression turning bitter, "are so dangerous."

"In universes where versions of us meet and become... close, our relationship becomes a canon event, an event that always has and always will end with one of us dying. You weren't supposed to survive in your universe," he explained solemnly.

"Do I always... die at the same time?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness and confusion.

"No. Sometimes you... we—" Miguel hesitates, searching for the right words, "Versions of us begin lives together. Some get married, some have children, and some... some die before even making it as far as you did," he says, bitterness evident in his voice.

"And now, because that story has changed, you have become an anomaly. Which means that if you return, your dimension will begin unraveling. And there is no stopping that," Miguel explains, his tone somber and resigned.

"What..." you say, distraught.

"It's what happens when you break the canon,"

"Then why... why am I alive? Why did you save me?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I... I found a way—a way to save you," he responds, his expression serious, but a hint of melancholic determination gleaming in his eyes, as if just speaking those words aloud was an act of defiance against some unfathomable force.

"How many other versions of me have you saved?" you ask, his gaze remaining on you for a moment before faltering, and he looks away, seemingly feeling ashamed.

"None. You are... you are the only one I could save," he admits.

You silently watch him, trying to process the weight of what he had just revealed, whether intentional or not.

"That's why you can't go back. If you break enough canons, we could lose..." He gestures, and you watch as nodes begin to crumble, causing the entire web to slowly disintegrate. "Everything."

"We...?" you question, seeking clarification.

Miguel let out a tired sigh, scooting forward and reaching for your hand. You flinched at his touch, and he looked up at you, his frown slowly softening as you held out your arm. He lifted your sleeve and showed you a small red spot, the mosquito bite you had gotten a few days ago.

"For you to survive, you..." He trailed off, his thumb running over the spot slowly. "There can only be one Spider-person in every dimension. If, for whatever reason, another person becomes one, then they also become an anomaly. At that point, one of the spider-people either dies, or the dimension itself collapses. Sometimes, it's both."

Your eyes meet as he holds onto your arm. "For you to survive, you had to become... an anomaly. Instead of you dying, you became an anomaly and then got removed from that dimension. Things change without tipping the scale, without breaking the canon."

"An anomaly... You turned me into a Spider-person?" you gasp.

Miguel silently watches you. "Not exactly... I injected you with—"

"Wait! So, Miguel could die? I mean, if there can only be one Spider-person, what if the universe or dimension or canon, or whatever it is, doesn't realize I'm gone? It could still kill him?!" you interrupt, your concern and anxiety evident in your voice.

[I have run hundreds of statistics, and so far, none show any dimensional rupture or damage. The canon has technically not been broken, only altered. The end results are still the same—only one Spider-man, only one of the two of you in the dimension.]

‘’This was just some test to you? You’re risking Miguel's life, my entire dimension because of what some AI calculated?!’’ You stand up abruptly, staring down at Miguel.

[Hey!] Lyla objects, clearly offended.

‘’As long as you don’t go back and interact with that dimension, it should be safe,’’ Miguel leans forward, looking up at you with a hint of a smile on his face. ‘’You were— are, a scientific miracle. A breakthrough never thought to be possible. However, if something does disrupt your dimension, it’s our job to try to fix it. We’re not always lucky, but—‘’

You leap over the small coffee table between the two of you, aiming for the collar of his suit. Miguel swiftly captures your wrists in his hands, holding you firmly in place as you glare down at him, tears welling in your eyes.

‘’You sick-‘’ you hiss, baring your teeth at him, your nails digging into his hands.

‘’y/n, you were going to die. If not you, then your Miguel would have. You can hate me as much as you want. I didn’t make the rules, you think I’d want this…?’’ Miguel's voice wavers slightly, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and desperation.

In that moment, the anger inside you clashes with a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and helplessness. You struggle against his grip, but Miguel's hold remains steady, as if he's trying to protect you from yourself.

‘’You should have just let me die,’’ you glare at him, and he looks at you, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘’At least then my dimension, my Miguel would have been safe.’’

‘’I... couldn’t...’’ Miguel mumbles, staring into your eyes, his own welling up with emotion.

‘’Why?!’’ you ask with tearful eyes, glaring down at him, your heart heavy with frustration and grief.

He watches you silently for a moment, his expression pained, before his eyebrows knit together, and he pushes you back against the couch, releasing your wrists as you fall back. ‘’No more questions for today. Lyla, get her something to eat. I have a headache.’’

You continued objecting, ignoring Lyla's attempts to distract you with food recommendations and takeout options. Your mind was consumed by the weight of the revelations, and the internal struggle left you feeling torn apart. Miguel eventually left, locking the door behind him, leaving you alone to process everything that had been revealed.

Unable to find solace in the chaos of your thoughts, you finally dropped down against the couch, pulling your knees up into a fetal position. The tears welled up again, and you cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking its toll on your body and mind.

---

In the following days or weeks – time seemed hazy in this new dimension – you settled into a monotonous routine. Conversations were rare, especially with Miguel. Sleeping on the couch, facing away from the room, you woke each morning to find a comforting blanket placed over you. Emotions churned as you grappled with the reality of being an anomaly here. Memories of home and loved ones tugged at your heart, while uncertainty and vulnerability clouded your mind

As days passed in the unfamiliar dimension, you grew closer to Lyla. Despite your attempts to ignore her, she proved to be persistent and engaging. She spent time with you, sharing stories and anecdotes, breaking through your emotional barriers.

During a conversation, you discovered that she had been "observing" you for quite a while. While it felt like stalking to you, she insisted it was part of her duties. After a two-hour debate, you agreed to disagree.

Lyla's presence became a source of solace in the disorienting dimension. She became a friend, easing the burden of being stranded far from home. In this vast multiverse, her companionship reminded you of the need for friendship, someone to confine in, someone to speak to.

She reminded you of Gwen…

[drusill-a]

RTD is so in love with David Tennant that it makes him look stupid, huh.

[moonheecore]

Oops, Juno? — sjy (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), fluff, slight angst, college AU, established relationship

Warnings: Soft Dom! Jake, protected & unprotected sex, baby daddy Jake, condom tempering (not by Jake), toxic mother trope, abortion mentioned, frat parties, multiple orgasm, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, slight lactation kink, cream pie, squirting, body worship, body changes during pregnancy mentioned, slight degradation but mostly praising, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else. 

Summary: Getting accidentally pregnant was the last thing you ever imagined. You were still in school, with so many plans for the future ahead of you. Yet, you felt certain that keeping the baby was the decision you wanted to make. What would your aloof mother think? and, perhaps most importantly, you wonder if Jake would feel the same way?

a/n: obviously, this fic was inspired by Sabrina’s song but my friend recently showed me this cute movie called Look Both Ways, which I took heavy inspiration from as well. So enjoy baby daddy Jake! Please reblog and leave comments— not just likes!

Main masterlist

Word count: 16k

The bass of the music from downstairs were only a faint echo in your mind, the party a mere distraction compare to what you and your boyfriend were about to do in the frat house's microscopic bathroom.

Everything in your spatial consciousness was spinning in the best way possible. You were in that sweet spot of being drunk from the shots of tequila, yet sober enough to feel the highs of Jake’s lips pressing messily against yours.

He had your back arched against the sink, his body pressed so close to yours that you couldn’t help but melt under his overpowering presence. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his sinful tongue slipped past your parted lips, the deep kiss becoming desperate and full of lust.

The warmth of his mouth and the taste of him, mixed with the bitter spirits, sent your heart racing. His large hands soon glided along the underside of your thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt to grope the soft flesh of your ass. You tug at the soft strands of his hair tangled between your fingers, leaving his freshly permed curls disheveled.

"Fuck, miss you so much." He moaned, plump lips not even taking a second's break from sucking on your saliva coated lips. "How the hell did I survive without having my dick in you for so long.”

You giggled at his cuteness, pulling back slightly to give him a peck on the nose. “It’s only been one week, Jake, not forever.”

“Feels like forever,” He whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. You let out a soft sigh as he started kissing your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy nibbles and licks that were sure to turn into prominent hickeys by the next day.

"But you know what I look forward to?" he sighed, mouthing at your delicate pulse as you crumbled with every lingering suck he left on your skin. You let out a soft hum, signaling you were listening, but were caught off guard when he suddenly hooked his arms under your knees and lifted you to sit on the slightly damp sink.

The new position allowed your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands threading around his neck as your fingers tangled in the soft hair at his nape. He was perfectly slotted between your thighs, giving him the freedom to shamelessly roll his hips into your core. Your eyes fluttered closed, and soft, whiny moans escaped you as you felt his hard on rubbing against your dripping center.

Jake looked at you, eyes hooded with lust, pupils blown out wide, and that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Feeling just how tight your little pussy will be around my cock.”

Just the sound of his sultry accent was enough to make you moan with desire, your lips crashing back into his in a clumsy, heated embrace. The two of you exchanged thick globs of saliva, noses brushing as you breathed each other’s air like it was oxygen. Your skirt rode up as he flipped it to reach the hem of your lace panties, tugging at the fabric haphazardly until they slid down to your knees, exposing your dripping core. Meanwhile, you hurriedly worked to unbuckle his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles.

“Jake,” You gasped, pulling away to catch your breath, your lips bruised and swollen. “Just fuck me right now— I can’t wait any longer.”

“No prep?" Jake rested his forehead against yours, a slight hint of worry flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?" As much as he wanted to feel your walls engulf him with as little space as possible, the thought of hurting you gnawed at him, despite how horny and drunk he was.

“Jakey, please, need you to fuck me hard until I’m loose.”

You gave him that needy look— the one with that wild, almost unhinged glint in your eyes that he knew all too well. It was the same look that reminded him why he wanted to fuck you forever, burying himself inside you and staying there until the world fell apart. The heat of your words drew a deep, guttural growl from him, a sound filled with raw need, frustration, and the kind of bliss only you could give him.

"Condom, inside my chest pocket, now."

You didn’t hesitate as you reached for a condom from his jacket. Jake’s husky voice casting a spell that sent heat straight to your core, thickening the air with anticipation and arousal. The sharp sound of the plastic tearing open sent a thrill through your body, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Jake was just as eager, stroking his hard, leaking cock in preparation as you carefully rolled the condom down his length.

"Fuck, you're dripping, baby" Jake gripped your hips firmly, his other hand guiding the base of his cock as he teasingly circled the tip against your gaping hole. A gush of arousal soaked your folds, running down your inner thighs, and Jake had to bite his lip at how beautifully drenched you looked. "So fucking wet for me."

You let out a sharp gasp as he pressed his swollen head past your entrance, followed by a loud moan when he buried his entire cock inside you in one swift motion, not giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to steady yourself. Your walls burned from the tight stretch, stinging with the fullness of his girth. Yet, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, the mix of pain and pleasure surging through your veins.

Jake began to pace himself once he bottomed out fully inside you, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider to give himself more room to thrust in and out with ease.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, wincing at the vice-like grip your gummy walls had on him. Jake was losing his mind at how your dripping cunt fought to keep him inside, gripping him so hard he could barely move. Yet, the friction created as he forced himself out and slammed back in felt deliciously sublime, prompting him to increase the speed of his hips as he chased every bit of pleasure like a madman.

“Gonna make you remember the shape of my cock, right, baby?” he asked, letting out a soft measured laugh at your fucked-out expression.

The space between your eyebrows scrunched up each time his fat tip hit the deepest parts of your insides, and the back of your head repeatedly thudded against the mirror with the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t help but let out a strangled sound as his cock filled you completely with overwhelming pleasure. The drag of his delicious veins against your tender walls made your tongue slip out, caught in a haze of ecstasy that intensified the throbbing pressure in your stomach.

“Shit, you’re so cute when you can’t think straight, doll,” He cooed, sinking precisely into your sensitive cervix for what felt like the millionth time that night, just to hear how wet you were. The loud squelching of your juices echoed through the bathroom, and you were certain Jake was reveling in the wet, messy heat of it all.

"So fucking sexy like this." His fingernails dug into the plush of your thighs, holding you still as he pounded into you. Jake pressed a kiss by your ear, groaning, his voice a husky whisper as his thumb sneaked between your bodies to rub your aching clit. "Makes me wanna ruin you 'til you can't close your legs like a slut."

His reckless touch on your swollen pearl sent jolts of pleasure through you, your body trembling as the impending release built up inside you. Your stomach tightened, a surge of ecstasy rising so intensely it felt like you were on the verge of exploding, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel him in your lungs—

"J-Jake!" His name spilled from your lips, trembling and edged with agony from the overwhelming pleasure. "I'm so close, fuck, I—I’m gonna cum."

"I know, baby," Jake gritted out, teeth clenched as your walls squeezed and throbbed around him erratically. He knew you were close, especially with the way your hands tugged at his damp hair and your head shook vigorously as he continued to tease your clit with expert precision.

"Come for me, that’s it, beautiful—"

You felt the familiar blinding lights taking over your vision as you came undone on his cock within seconds. Jake didn’t stop bucking his hips while your body slumped heavily against the sink before finally stilling with one last hard thrust. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips uttered curses aloud as it became increasingly wet, sloppy, and messy between your legs. There was so little room between your bodies that his balls were practically suction-cupping themselves to your ass, filling the condom with his creamy release.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily into the small space between you. Your mouths hovered just an inch apart, breathing hard from the intensity, while the air around you thickened, heavy with the humid scent of sex and sweat.

As the fog in your mind started to clear and your heartbeat slowed enough for you to catch your breath, Jake pulled his cock out of you, rolling off the used condom and tying it before tossing it aside. But your gaze lingered on him— his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lingering arousal, and his wet cock still hard against his abdomen.

"Fucking hell," Jake cursed, desperation thick in his voice as he cupped your jaw, his eyes pleading for your attention. His other hand brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. "I need to fuck you again, baby, please. I'm so fucking horny for you." There was pain hinted at the edge of his tongue, his pleading gaze ignited something primal within you. You were both exhausted, yet the sheer need in his eyes made it impossible to resist.

Ignoring the tremor in your legs, you let Jake manhandle you, spinning you around and bending you over the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection, your hair and makeup in disarray, while Jake hastily put on another condom. It was the first time he had ever asked for a second round, and the sheer need in your body triggered a craving to feel his cock stretching you again, yearning to experience every inch of him filling you up once more.

He bunched your skirt up, rocking his head against your entrance before pushing his entire cock inside you with little resistance. You relaxed your walls to welcome him wholeheartedly, and both of you let out satisfying moans in unison. Jake didn’t miss a beat, immediately thrusting at an ungodly pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough for you to feel the sting of his hold. You felt a slight pinch of pain from his roughness, yet it only added to the pleasure that began to build, to the point where you started to lose track of where you began and he ended.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jake swore he was fucking in love with the way you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, watching your jiggling ass bounce with every collision of flesh against his abdomen. “Could fuck this pretty pussy every second, and I still wouldn’t get enough of it.”

You choked back your tears and saliva as Jake tangled his fingers in your hair, roughly pulling you back and forcing your spine to arch. The new angle allowed him to strike your cervix relentlessly, making you scream in pleasure, loud enough that the entire party probably knew you were having sex at this point. You glanced at his reflection, his head thrown back as he moaned and hissed every time you squeezed your walls around his sensitive length deliciously.

The pressure in your stomach teetered on the edge, your clit throbbing madly as Jake split you open relentlessly, leaving you feeling like a ragdoll, surrendering to his every desire. The stimulation was so intense that you could taste your second release on the tip of your tongue. But this one was different from the first— far more intense. It struck you that you were on the brink of squirting from sheer overstimulation.

"C-Can't take it anymore—" you gasp, desperately clawing at the smooth surface of the sink for leverage. "Need you to fill me up and make me full.”

That was all it took for your boyfriend to feel outmatched, pushing him over the edge and making him fully commit to ravishing you to your core. Like a switch flipping, Jake shifted, bending one of your legs onto the counter as he planted his foot firmly on the tiled floor, mounting your lower half and stretching your pussy mercilessly. The force had your chest pressed flat against the surface as you gasped for air.

“Gotta fill you up, little slut,” he taunted right in your ear, but his voice faltered as he neared his own high, using his words to push both of you closer to the edge. “I’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you, baby, you won’t even be able to squeeze all of me out.”

Jake smirk haughtily as all you could do was to reach back and pull his thighs closer as he fucked you like his personal flashlight.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Love it when a part of me's swimming inside you.” At this moment, Jake was practically spouting dirty thoughts off the top of his head, biting his lip to suppress an almost whiny moan, holding on to his high just a little longer to let you drown in yours first.

Your response was reduced to fucked-out babbling, making Jake almost chuckle at how ethereal you looked breaking apart because of his cock. In the back of your foggy mind, you wished the barrier of the latex condom would disappear, imagining how raw and textured he’d feel stroking every inch of your walls.

Just the thought of that sent you spiraling over the edge, the once heated sensation bursting like millions of butterflies in your stomach as waves of pleasure constricted your throat. Jake looked down to see your sweet juices pouring between your legs, drenching his thighs and the floor below as you hit your second orgasm in complete bliss.

Burying his face in your hair, Jake’s frame lurched greedily, releasing himself right after you. He choked out groans after groans, emptying ropes of hot cum into the condom. It didn’t take long for him to finish, relishing the solace of the afterglow, yet he stayed wrapped around you from behind, shielding you before you could collapse in exhaustion.

"Good job, sweetheart. Just like that, I've got you, baby girl."

Jake could say the filthiest and meanness things during sex, but moments like this made you appreciate the beautiful juxtaposition of it all— a perfect balance of wild and soft.

"You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of my pretty girl. Always so good for me."

He kissed the side your forehead, showering you with honey-coated compliments as you rested your head in your hands in complete surrender, softly sobbing at how wrecked you felt after such intense pleasure. Everything felt perfect and warm as he let you catch your breath and calm your nerves, his hands gently squeezing your thighs for comfort. Before long, the party's music filtered back into the room, and the muffled sounds of others laughing drunkenly passed through the hallway behind the closed door, signaling that you both were beginning to regain your bearings and clean up the mess you’ve made.

“What are you smiling at?” you shot him a side-eye from the mirror as you fixed your mascara, catching Jake leaning against the sink, arms crossed, watching you with complete bliss and biting his lip to hold back a grin. You both knew it would be tough to rejoin your friends without looking like you’d just had mind-blowing sex. Then again, your social circle was all too familiar with you and Jake disappearing suddenly—it was no secret what the two of you had been up to.

“Jake, seriously, you’re starting to creep me out,” you added, eyeing him suspiciously as his grin widened.

"Hmm, I don't know," Jake mused, sighing contentedly as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, resting the bridge of his nose on your shoulder to bask in your scent. The soft light illuminated his face, making his eyes glimmer like you were the center of his world. "I think I need to make you squirt more often, because that was so fucking hot."

You let out a scoff. “Yeah, maybe its because you won’t stop running your mouth about your freaky breeding kink on me,” You teased, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“C'mere, baby, let me put a baby in you.” Jake leaned in with a mock pout, pulling you closer into his side. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he lowered his voice to an exaggerated sultry whisper.

"Eww, Jake, stop it!" You shoved his face, feigning annoyance but laughing at how ridiculous he was.

The genuine laughter you shared made the moment feel pure and carefree, a blissful innocence that you cherished with Jake. It was almost naive, as if you were both untouched by the weight of the world. Looking back, those playful words were more than just a joke— they were a subtle hint of the storm brewing, the harsh reality that fate had quietly set in motion.

You felt like your whole world was turning upside down, and it wasn’t just figuratively— it was literal. The familiar burn of nausea crept up your throat, your stomach twisting as the astringent taste started to rise up to your esophagus, making everything spin.

Two red lines stared back at you, the cause of it all. The first test brought denial, the second was to make sure, and the third was acceptance— gripped by absolute shock as the reality set in.

You were definitely pregnant.

This had to be a bad dream, right? So why weren’t you waking up from this nightmare that was becoming your reality? You sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, tears blurring your vision as your blood ran cold, leaving you physically trembling. Just as you were on the verge of spiraling, teetering on the edge of losing it, you summoned the last bit of strength you had left and reached for your phone to call your best friend.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Lena stammered at the other line of the call, obviously shocked by the sudden news. “I mean, it could be a faulty test, right? It happens all the time. Maybe you just took it too early, or—” She trailed off, grasping for any reason to make sense of situation.

“I took three tests, Lena. All of them were positive. I've been throwing up all day,” You cut her off, managing to say the words with surprising calmness. “…and I didn’t get my period last month.”

That last sentence dropped like a bombshell in the conversation, heavy and palpable. You found yourself staring at the tiles on the floor, feeling your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

"My mom's gonna kill me," You confessed, sniffling as tears pooled down your cheeks.

"Then she'll have to walk over my dead body to get to you,"

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your eyes as your best friend's fierce protectiveness washed over you like a safety net.

Since sophomore year, she had been your unwavering rock, and sharing a room had forged an unbreakable bond between you two. You had witnessed each other’s tears, shared countless laughter-filled nights, and navigated through the chaos of sleepless mornings. In that moment, you realized how deep your connection truly ran, and how you would always stand by each other— no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"You're at your mom's for the weekend, right?" Lena asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did she say anything?"

You shook your head, wiping away the streaks of tears. "No, she's out with her friends. I told her I had a stomach bug, so she just left me alone." The lie tasted bitter, but you couldn't bring yourself to face the truth with her yet.

You'd never had a great relationship with your mother.

Since childhood, her overbearing nature always overshadowed any sense of nurture. To outsiders, she might have seemed strict, but to you, she was much more than that. Your relationship felt like a façade— one-sided and suffocating. She controlled every detail of your life: the school you attended, the friends you made, the choices you had— all under the guise of it being for your own good.

It was isolating, exhausting, but how could you have known any different?

That was the only kind of 'love' you'd ever experienced from her.

As a woman, you understood her fear— that she didn’t want you to end up like her, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. But as a daughter, you felt lost, torn between resentment and attachment. Despite everything, a part of you still craved her approval, even after all these years, no matter how insecure she made you feel.

The memories came crashing down all at once, drowning your mind with an intensity that you couldn’t ignore. Layer by layer, the real emotion beneath it all surfaced, raw and exposed, stripping away every defense you’d built.

"Lena," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile plea that echoed through the cold, empty bathroom of your mother’s house.

"I'm so fucking scared."

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, realizing you might have overburdened Lena with such heavy responsibility. Then came the small sniffles, and your heart ached for her. Lena had always been the strong one between the two of you— the sensible one who didn’t let emotions or opinions sway her. But when it came to you, she never hesitated to show her vulnerability.

"Y/N, I'm here for you," Lena's voice was steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "If the odds are against you every step of the way, just know I'll always be there. You're stronger than you think, whether you believe it or not. We'll get through this, okay? Believe it."

The fear slowly dissipated from your body. It was still there, lingering in the background, but the relief of having an anchor, someone to hold you steady, eased some of the weight. It didn’t mean everything would be fine, but at least you weren’t facing it alone.

“Are you planning to tell Jake about the pregnancy?"

You leaned back, feeling the weight of yet another hurdle coming your way.

Oddly enough, you weren’t as stressed about telling Jake as you thought you would be. You knew, without a doubt, the baby was his. It had always been him, from the very beginning until now. No matter the circumstances, you both always used protection, and it made the situation feel unfair, frustrating even, that this was happening despite being so careful.

"I'll have to tell him, won't I?" You bit the inside of your cheek, fingers raking through your hair as the weight of the decision settled in. From the other end, you heard Lena hum softly, offering silent support. "It makes me feel guilty, keeping it from him," you continued, your voice softer now. "He deserves to know too."

"If that's your decision, Y/N, then I'm all for it," Lena's voice was like a lifeline, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a small sense of relief.

"We’ll talk more when you're back. For now, rest up and eat something, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly. "Thank you, Lena. I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

As the call ended, silence filled the bathroom, the weight of everything crashing back down. You stood up slowly, shoving the pregnancy test into your pocket before heading to the sink. The cold water felt like a shock to your system as you splashed it on your face, trying to freshen up, trying to calm the storm inside. Your mom would be home any minute, and you needed to pull yourself together before you faced her.

But as you glanced at the mirror, you froze. Taking a step back, you caught your full reflection. Your hand instinctively drifted to your stomach, resting there, your eyes fixated on that part of your body as if it held something fragile, something precious.

Without hesitation, you had already made up your mind.

The decision was clear, solidified in your heart. Now, it was only a matter of telling the people around you— facing them head-on, no matter the reactions, no matter the consequences thrown at you. You knew what you wanted, and nothing could change that. The hardest part was yet to come, but you were ready. Or at least, you had to be, for the sake of the baby.

You and Lena stood on the front porch of the frat house, the thumping bass of the music vibrating through the ground, colorful lights flashing from the windows. A group of guys passed by, carrying crates of booze, laughing and shoving each other as they rushed inside. This was just another typical Friday night, the same parties you'd been to countless times before.

But this time, it was different.

What once felt thrilling now felt heavy. It had only been three days since you found out you were pregnant, and now it was finally time to tell Jake the truth. Breaking the news during a party wasn’t ideal, but with exam season looming just a few weeks away, he had been buried in his studies and packed schedules. Before you left to visit your mother, you had promised him you would meet him at the party his frat brothers were hosting. You wanted to tell him sooner rather than later, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you.

“Ready?” Lena asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, even though your mind was far from prepared. Still, your body moved forward, stepping into the house with a single intention in mind.

As always, the frat party was a chaotic mess— a dumpster fire than anything resembling fun.

People spilled out into the backyard, filling every corner with shouts of excitement and laughter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and a faint haze of smoke. You maneuvered through clusters of people, dodging arms flailing from overenthusiastic dancers, while a group of guys at the far end chanted loudly, egging on someone attempting to chug down a towering concoction that was far too much for any person to handle.

Lena had already left to meet your other flat mates, Ningning, who were somewhere in the mayhem as well. She had insisted on staying with you, but you reassured her that you needed to do this on your own. She gave you an encouraging smile, though it was strained with concern, mouthing “good luck” before vanishing into the crowd.

You scanned the room quickly, eyes darting in hopes of catching a glimpse of your boyfriend in the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight. Giving up, you headed towards the dim hallway leading to the back rooms, where you spotted Sunghoon and Jay leaning casually against the wall, deep in conversation with red cups in hand. Their eyes lit up when they saw you approaching.

You shoot them a small smile. “Hey guys, have you seen Jake in this mess?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest to feign offense. “I’m gonna ignore how rude that sounded, 'cause you’re looking at the mastermind of it all,” he joked, causing you to laugh when you saw Sunghoon rolling his eyes at his friend.

“He went to grab more drinks for the beer pong game later,” Sunghoon chimed in, loud enough over the music, nodding toward the kitchen. “You might find him there.”

You thanked them and made your way toward the kitchen, grateful for the chance to escape the chaos of the main party. The noise dulled slightly as you reached the quieter part of the house, the kitchen door slightly ajar. Fewer people lingered here, just a couple of others milling around, chatting quietly. It was a breather from the overwhelming energy outside— an oasis of calm amidst the havoc.

You spotted your boyfriend's figure from afar, wearing the familiar denim jacket he always lent you over one of his hoodies— the same ones you were sure you'd 'stolen' and given back a dozen times. He was crouched down by the huge fridge, hauling out what you assumed to be chilled alcohol for the game later. You carefully approached him from behind.

“I swear to God, if you're here to yap at me for being slow—”

“I thought you liked it when I yap and you listen,” You mused, snickering as he let out a surprised “What the fuck!” and almost hit his head on the top of the fridge.

He stood up with a playful grin once he recognizes your voice, the corners of his smile stretching so wide that his cheekbones popped out. His eyes glinted under the dim kitchen light before he swooped you off your feet, wrapping you in a tight hug.

You never knew how much you needed his embrace until you felt it.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh laundry and the warmth of summer sunlight. His hands held your almost fragile frame gently— one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other ran softly through your hair. The tenderness, laced with a sense of quiet possessiveness, made you melt instantly. His laughter rang like music in your ears, almost pulling you out of the moment, reminding you that soon you’d have to tell him you were pregnant. The thought made you cling to him tighter before he could pull away and break the hug.

"Sorry, I thought you were Jay just now," he apologies with a chuckle, closing the fridge door.

You pulled back, “Jay? Wow, I knew I was second place, but didn’t think I’d lose out to him.”

“Please, don’t.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s been at my ass all day, and I don’t want him ruining our time tonight, yeah?” Leaning down, he pressed a loving peck to your lips, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You hummed softly in response, a smile creeping onto your face, but inside, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you. You were about to drop a bombshell that could change everything, and the thought made your heart race. “I get it. Just focus on having fun tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of your secret.

Jake took a deep breath, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “I actually have some good news to tell you,” he said, glancing at you with a wide grin that made your heart flutter.

Your curiosity piqued, and you leaned in closer. “What is it?”

He couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I got a call from the aerospace company that I applied to as my first choice for my internship, and…” He paused, glancing up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he bit his lower lip.

“I got in.”

Your heart drop to the floor, a mix of apprehension profuse the joy swirling within you.

Fuck, you were so incredibly happy for him. You had witnessed him at his hardest, and you understood just how much this fruit of his labor meant to Jake. As a literature student who could barely remember where the calculator app was on your phone, you felt worlds apart from his major. Yet, you knew how tirelessly he had worked, calling you late at night to share his worries and pour out his hopes and dreams. This was the only reputable company that could offer him a decent wage in exchange for experience and rapport in the future.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him.

You stared at him, unsure how to react appropriately with your current mindset, your heart aching with a sunken, bitter feeling. The light in his eyes shone like beacons as he waited for your response, expecting you to share in his joy and rapture over the achievement, totally oblivious to your internal struggles. But as you opened your mouth and then closed it again, words eluded you, and heavy breaths made the air feel suffocating.

You have to tell him, you have to tell him now.

“Hey, love, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything okay?” Jake sensed something was wrong immediately, reaching out to squeeze your shoulders as he studied your expression. Concern furrowed his brow, and his voice softened.

You have to, you have to tell him, the nagging voice in the back of your mind insisted, drowning out Jake's worried tone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing the weight of the secret you were holding.

“J-Jake,” You breathed out, forcing yourself to calm down as you swallowed hard the tears down. He looked back at you, his gaze so delicate and tender that it eased some of the tension in your body. This was it. You were finally going to tell him.

“Jake, I’m—”

Your phone rang, interrupting the moment and pulling you back to a nervous wreck. The incoming call distracted you just enough to pause, and you fished your phone out of your pocket, hoping to silence it quickly. But when you saw the caller ID, your heart sank. It was your mother— the last person you wanted to hear from right now.

You glanced up at Jake, who was still watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and you hesitated. Should you answer it? Your mother always had a knack for timing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face whatever she might say. But your gut told you to answer before an even bigger storm might brew. Taking a deep breath, you swiped to answer, turning slightly away from Jake to create some privacy.

“Hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your hand gripping the phone a little too tight.

There was a brief pause on the other end, then your mother’s familiar voice broke through, laced with tension. “Come home this instant,” she said, her voice tight, barely masking a simmering anger.

You felt Jake’s eyes still on you, his concern deepening as you tried to keep calm. Your heart started to race.

“Mom, can it wait? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“No, it can’t,” she cut you off sharply, her voice dropping to a low that was too calm for the norm that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“I found the pregnancy test box, Y/N. You come home right now.”

The line went dead. The call had ended— but you felt like your heart had stopped, too.

Everything around you faded, and the weight of her words hit like a punch in the gut. It felt as though the skies were collapsing, the floor beneath you quaking, and a massive tsunami was about to engulf you, drag you under until you were drowning in its depths. Your mind screamed, but it was muffled, like you were submerged underwater, gasping for air. The panic consumed you, threatening to pull you under until Jake’s hands grabbed you, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N?” His voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to your feet. He held you tightly, eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?"

The concern etched into his face only made it harder to breathe, and you realized that everything— the secret, your mother's words, and now his worry— was closing in around you.

“I-I have to g-go,” you stammered, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them. Jake’s confused expression only mirrored the chaos inside you, his brow furrowing in concern as he watched you struggle. The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to you, slipping from your lips without your permission.

“I-I’m sorry, Jake, I—” you said quickly, your words rushing together as the urge to flee surged inside you. “My mom— she needs me. I-I have to go. I-I’ll explain later, I promise, I swear I will, but I just can’t do it right now."

There was a heavy silence between you, thick and suffocating. In your panic, it felt like an invisible chasm had opened between the two of you, a space you couldn’t cross. Jake just stared at you, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand the storm raging inside. You could see it clearly: he wanted to reach out, to help, to ask what was wrong.

But he knew. He knew that pushing you right now would only make it worse. If he asked you what was wrong, it would shut you down completely, triggering an even deeper spiral of panic. It would be like setting off a chain reaction, a cascade that neither of you could control. So, in that brief, agonizing moment, Jake made the choice— the most rational one he could. He stepped back emotionally, even if he wanted to do the opposite, because he trusted you enough to do it.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could see the tension in the way he closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, they were full of quiet understanding. "Okay, alright," he repeated, nodding slowly.

“Do you need me to drive you there?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your shaky breath. “It’s okay,” you murmured, “Lena can drive me there.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening slightly, though the uncertainty still lingered. In that moment, you realized you’d let something slip— Lena knew something he didn’t. You could see it register in his eyes, that small detail, and though he didn’t ask, it seemed to give him a bit of solace.

“Okay, then I’ll see you later?” Jake’s voice was gentle, no malice, no pressure— just pure reassurance. You nodded quickly, already turning to find Lena, but something pulled you back. Before you knew it, you were taking a few steps back to him.

Without warning, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. It was sudden, impulsive, but necessary. Jake responded immediately, his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips, pulling you closer as if you were meant to fit together like this. The familiar spark ignited in your stomach— the same fireworks that always went off when you kissed him like this. But you knew this wasn’t the time to get lost in it, not when the weight of everything was still hanging between you. As much as you craved the comfort of this moment, you couldn’t let it deceive you into thinking everything was okay, not yet.

You broke the kiss, your heart heavy. Without looking back at Jake, afraid of the emotion in his eyes that might unravel you, you turned away and walked toward the uncertainty awaiting you.

You told Lena to wait in the car as you made your way toward the front door of your childhood home.

The house had aged intricately over the years, like an old photograph fading with time. The paint had faded, the pipes were rusted, and there were dents and scratches on the concrete frame despite the darkness of the night. You could almost see your younger self playing in the soil of the front yard, learning to ride your bicycle along the pavement, and spending whole days looking out the front door window, watching your neighbors across the street— the mother and daughter holding hands, heading off to the movies or the park.

You couldn’t remember the last time you held your mother’s hand.

The living room was eerily calm, the chill in the air contrasting with the faint glow from the dining room where the kitchen was. Under the chandelier's soft light, your mother sat at the end of the table, a mug of tea beside three pregnancy test boxes she’d found in the bathroom trash. The sight made your chest tighten. You didn’t dare step fully into the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. Crossing your arms, you tried to keep your trembling fingers at bay, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you.

“What was the result?” She asked, her voice aloof and measured. Your mother didn’t look up at you at first, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze fixed on the table.

“Mom, I can explain—”

“What was the result, Y/N?” She looked up at you, and the sight took you aback. She looked exactly the same as she did when you were younger— emotionless and disappointed. Every day brought the same look, and to be truthful, you were getting sick of it.

You let out a deep exhale, the ticking of the clock on the wall booming in the silence like a bomb.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was nothing— just the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You knew she already knew the answer to the question, but saying it out loud, was what made her explode.

“Why would you do this? Why would you ruin our lives?” Her voice broke through the stillness, sharp and furious. You closed your eyes when she finally screamed at you, when she finally snapped. A part of you almost welcomed the outburst— it was better than the cold, emotionless calm. At least now she was showing something, even if it was anger you never wanted to face.

“I gave you everything— an education, food, clothes, a home. What more could you possibly need?” she spat, listing out each thing like a burden she’d carried for years, each word cutting deeper than the last like you were some kind of chore that needs to be completed.

"Why did you let this happen to yourself?"

"Mom, please, it was an accident, okay? Do you really think I wanted to get pregnant right now?" Your voice grew louder, more adamant, as frustration surged through you. The insinuation that you had done this on purpose felt like a slap to the face, and you couldn't hold back the intensity any longer.

"Does he know, hmm?" Her voice dripped with mockery, almost ending in a cruel laugh as she rolled her eyes dramatically, like she already had it all figured out. "Do the guy or guys you’ve been fucking, know about this?" She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze piercing through you like she was daring you to respond.

Anger started to bubble up inside you.

You had constantly reminded her that you had a boyfriend, afraid of how she might initially react, but slowly easing her into the idea of Jake since you started dating. But she always seemed uninterested. Every time you suggested a small lunch or dinner to get to know him, she was "too busy" or had some excuse. It reached a point where mentioning his name would earn you that same blank expression— like she had no idea who he was. You had to remind her again and again, as if his mere existence wasn’t even worth remembering in her life.

"No, I haven’t told Jake— my boyfriend, about the pregnancy yet," You explained, sucking your teeth as you tried to keep your voice calm and civil despite your current temper.

"But I was going to, until you decided to call me."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" she shot back, her voice rising with incredulity as she stood up from the chair, her frustration spilling over. "My fault that you didn’t tell your boyfriend? You think he didn’t have a hand in this? That he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he got you into bed?"

"Mom, that's disgusting! Why would you even say that?" You yelled, feeling heat rise to your head at her accusation against Jake, as if he had lured you. This was it— her strategy every time you argued, twisting the conversation to make you feel guilty, manipulating your words against you to gaslight you further.

"Jake would never—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding up her hand to silence you. You hated that you instinctively obeyed, that your body seemed to give her the authority.

"You're having an abortion," she declared, as if her decision were final. "You're going to transfer to a community college close to home, and you're going to leave the dorm. No more of your friends' influence."

You shake your head with defiant, standing your ground.

“You can't control my life anymore, Mom," Your face and body felt defeated, not because you were giving in, but because you were so emotionally exhausted that you could barely summon the energy to fight back.

"And I'm not having an abortion because that's not for you to fucking decide."

Your mother scoffed, marching toward you with her eyes wide, filled with disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom what you had just said.

“Is this some kind of revenge against me?” she demanded, her voice rising with each syllable. “I knew you weren’t happy with me, but I never expected you to pull a stunt like this! Wake up, Y/N! Be fucking mature for once! This is reality— own up to your mistake!” She punctuated her words with a sharp gesture, her finger jabbing the air between you right up to your face.

She stared directly into your eyes, her jaw clenched in anger, and you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“You're just like your fucking father,” she whispered, the insult leaving a bitter burn in her mouth.

You watched as her face began to process the weight of her words, finally opening the Pandora's box of emotions. Years of pent-up frustration, anger, and hatred had found their origin, and you could finally understand why she acted the way she did. The way her expression twisted whenever one of her friends mentioned how much you resembled your father, the absence of any pictures or traces of him in the house—it all made sense now. You weren’t even sure if he had ever paid child support or if he simply allowed your mother to have sole custody when you were born.

But none of it mattered anymore; at this point, you just didn’t care to know.

"That's it, isn't it? That's the reason my life ended up like this." You pressed, your voice thick with repugnance, like a time capsule unsealed, exposing the buried resentment lodged deep in your heart. A sneer nearly crossed your lips as you watched your mother’s whole body and face seemed to recoil.

"And you have the audacity to pin me as some revenge-driven monster? Well, take a good look in the mirror, Mom." You spat the last words venomously, your eyes narrowing and fists clenching at your sides as she flinched.

"Well now you don't have to worry anymore, because I don't ever want to see you again." You said, stepping back without hesitation as your hand tightening around the doorframe.

There were so many things you wanted to tell her, so many broken and damaged pieces she left behind on the path for you to rebuild. But now, you didn’t think it was worth it anymore. It was time to let go of those pieces, to let them shatter on the ground, and finally forge something of your own.

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale as the words slowly sank in. For some reason, from this new angle in the light, the wrinkles on her face seemed deeper, the strands of white in her hair more prominent— visible signs of how much time had passed, how long you had suffered beneath her, though you hadn’t truly noticed until now.

You caught a glimpse of a doodle near the kitchen entrance as you turned away, the charcoal lines of a pencil embedded in the wallpaper. You remembered it clearly— marking your own height as a child because there was no one around to help you. That sense of independence, forged so young, was the reason you were so driven to break free, to shatter the chains the moment you were able.

"I hope you have a happy life mom."

Your final, genuine wish echoed through the lonely kitchen as you walked away from your mother for the last time, swearing never to look back again.

You looked up from your phone when you heard soft knocks on your bedroom door. You were lying comfortably on your bed, but you sat up to see who was coming in. You knew Lena and Ningning mentioning they were going out to buy groceries later, which left only one other person who knew where the emergency key was kept hidden at the entrance.

"Knock, knock," Jake's voice called out playfully as he popped his head through the slightly open door. "I brought you cookies." You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight as he tiptoed in with a puppy-like grin, carefully closing the door behind him. In his hand, he held a brown bag with the logo of your favorite bakery from across the street, sitting at the edge of your mattress.

"You didn’t have to." You cooed, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

He shrugged as you scooted over, making room for him to settle beside you. "I know, but I wanted to. Besides, cookies always make you feel better."

The smell of warm cinnamon and sweet chocolate invaded your senses, and though you would have devoured the cookies like any other day, the lingering effects of your morning sickness made everything taste and smell a little off. So, you hesitated, placing the bag aside for now.

You and Jake leaned back against the headboard of your bed, your shoulders pressed together in the small space. Without thinking, you rested your head on his board shoulder, seeking comfort in his presence. Jake shifted, adjusting his posture to let you settle in more comfortably, letting out a satisfied smile when he felt you snuggled closer before placing his head on top of yours.

"Hey, Jake," You said softly, using the tips of your toes to poke his shin playfully. He hummed in response, turning his head slightly to acknowledge you.

"Have you ever thought about the future?"

He gently rested one of his feet on top of yours, playfully pinning it down, as you try to wiggle out from under the weight but failing. "Yeah, Sometimes when I can't sleep." he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "My mind just kinda zones out, and then it’s like an endless loop of ‘what ifs’ and all that stuff."

You hummed in response as if you could relate to his situation all the time, your voice soft as you asked, "Do you sometimes think about our future together?" Your gaze drifted down to where your playful ministrations had left your limbs tangled together in the sheets, pillows thrown off somewhere on the floor.

"Yes," he admitted faster than you expected, his voice quiet but sure, as his hair lightly tickled your ear. He let out a small laugh at the end, "Maybe just a little too much."

You moved away, standing up straight as the muscles in your neck throbbed from the prolonged awkward position. But mostly, it was to gauge Jake's expression after your random questions that he seemed so willing to answer.

Your silence gave Jake a chance to really observe you. The dark circles under your tired eyes were more pronounced, your eyes slightly red, and your hair tied in a cute, messy bun. He had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand behind your ear, instead opting to give you some space and time to think.

"I've been sick for a few days now, throwing up a lot in the mornings and don't really have the appetite to eat anything," You explained, hugging a pillow tightly to your chest. Jake moved closer to listened to you intently. "At first, I thought it might be the stupid gas station sushi we ate, but then I realized... I didn’t get my period last month. So, I took some tests just to be sure..."

Jake furrowed his brows, confusion flickering across his face. "Y/N, what do you mean…" His voice trailed off, his mind racing to put the pieces of information you told him into perspective, like fragments of a puzzle slowly finding their place in a bigger picture. Then, something clicked. Before he could fully process it, the words slipped out.

"You're pregnant."

The disbelief was evident in his voice as he stared at you eyes as wide as saucers. You nodded, confirming what he could barely believe.

"I don’t understand…" He began, rubbing his temples in deep contemplation. "I just don’t understand how this happened. We always used protection, right?" He looked back at you, then his gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to your abdomen. "Then… how did we…?"

"I don't know." You admitted, looking as lost as he did. "The last time we did it was at the bathroom at Jay's party. Did the condoms you used yours?" You asked, as Jake prone over your questions.

"Yeah, I usually keep one in my wallet or pocket, but the second..." His face suddenly fell, panic setting in as realization dawn on him, like getting hit with ice cold water over the head. He blinked rapidly, his voice wavering. "Someone was handing some out at the start of the party, and I took one without thinking. You don’t think they would have—"

"Tampered with it?" You finished, disbelief sharp in your voice. "Fuck, Jake, I think whoever gave it to you did."

At the time, he hadn’t even considered, hadn’t paid attention to the possibility that someone could do something so messed up. Now, the realization hit him hard. He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale, looking almost sick, like he might throw up at any moment.

"I can’t believe this. I didn’t even think to even fucking check. I just… trusted it." His shoulders slumped, letting out a grunted sigh of guilt. You caught the shimmer in his eyes, his anger and confusion crashing together like deadly waves.

"All of this is my fault," He murmured, his voice breaking, fully grasping the predicament he'd put you in. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's all my fucking fault."

You reached out immediately, cradling his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks in comfort. Instinctively, he placed his hands over yours desperately, grounding himself in your touch.

"Don’t blame yourself, Jake," You said softly, your gaze steady on his. "If there’s anyone to blame, it’s those people who did this, okay? What they did was fucked up."

He took a deep breath, trying to absorb your words, but a new concern flickered in his eyes. "Does your mom know?"

Jake wasn’t foreign to the details of your childhood, though he wouldn’t say it was easy for you to confide in him about your complicated bond with your mother when you first started dating, so he only knows bits and pieces. You’d described it simply, brushing over the pain, which was probably why he’d even thought to ask about your mother's reaction now.

"She knows," You confessed tensely. "Remember when she called me last time at the party? She found the box for my pregnancy test." The memories flowed back in slow motion, and Jake took your hand, intertwining it with his larger one to give you a reassuring squeeze of encouragement.

"She told me to get an abortion, to leave everything I have build here and come back home," You swallowed hard, but the tears didn’t stop flowing out your eyes. "But I told her she can't control my life anymore, that I’m keeping the baby and before I knew it, she was out of my life for good this time."

Jake pulled you gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and guiding your head to rest against his chest. One hand caressed your back while the other held the back of your head, and you surrendered to the release, letting the tears flow freely into his embrace. He murmured soft reassurances, pressing his lips affectionately to the crown of your head. Rocking you gently, he created a safe space for you to let it all out. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, finding comfort in his warmth like never before.

"I’ll support whatever you choose, Y/N. It should always be your choice what you do with your body, and I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother," he reassured you softly. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but in that moment, you felt yourself falling even more deeply in love with him as you shared one heartbeat.

He took a steadying breath, whispering to you saccharinely. "If you choose to keep the baby, our baby, then I’ll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. Whatever it takes, I’m here."

You knew it would be a struggle for both of you— neither of you had the bandwidth to fully handle what lay on the other side of this journey. But seeing him here, trying his best to pull through for both of you, gave you the smallest glimmer of hope. And you knew you’d always do the same for him. This moment may have been small, but it was enough to make you believe, even if just for a second, that you’d both get through it.

Time seems to flow like a river, and everything in your life has gradually started to find its place, evolving naturally around your sudden change in plans for the future.

The first people you and Jake told about the pregnancy were his parents. It felt inevitable— both of you always wanted them to be a meaningful part of your child’s life from the very beginning. And knowing Jake, you doubted he’d be able to keep it a secret for long; he was too close with his family, and sooner or later, he was bound to let it slip. Telling them felt like the right first step.

"Do you think your parents are gonna take the news alright?" You ask him from the passenger seat as Jake settles into the driver’s.

His parents were always different from your own— present in his life, involved in every moment, big or small. You had spent countless Christmases and Thanksgivings with them over the years, and they welcomed and treated you like their own, to the point where Jake and his older brother would sometimes joke about how much their parents liked you better than them, often telling you how much they always wanted a daughter of their own to adore.

Since then, you had come to understand exactly where Jake got his warmth and kindness. His parents were the kind of people who loved wholeheartedly. Yet despite this, you couldn’t shake the fear and worries that they might see your pregnancy as too soon, that they might wonder if you were taking their youngest son’s future from him before it had even fully begun.

"They'll be...understanding, that's for sure," Jake replied, though you caught a hint of skepticism in his own words.

"But I don't want you to worry too much. Besides, I don't think my parents would be too opposed to becoming grandparents either if it’s you." He reached out to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it lovingly.

That's how you both found yourselves driving back to his hometown one weekend, sitting together on the couch in his family’s living room across from each other as you shared the news. You had braced for their reaction as expected— a mix of happiness, confusion, and, above all, a deep-seated worry for the two of you and the baby.

Their faces showed their desire to be supportive, though you couldn’t fault them for the anxiety that crept into their expressions. Despite their concern, they were ready to help as much as possible, which you appreciated deeply. But you and Jake had already agreed: you’d take full responsibility, not wanting to lean too heavily on their kindness.

After that, you and Jake decided to share the news with your close-knit friends, knowing that having the right support system could make all the difference. Besides, it felt uncomfortable keeping something so important from the people you trusted— those who had been by your side for so long.

There was an initial look of shock on their faces— Ningning had her hands covering her mouth, Sunghoon's signature eyebrow was raised so high it practically touched his hairline, and Jay’s jaw seemed to drop to the floor. The only one who didn’t blink twice was Lena, who sat on the couch with a smug smile, amused by the other's reaction to your pregnancy.

“Surprise...?” You squeaked, though they remained frozen in their spots.

It seemed almost unreal that this was happening. Sure, they knew Jake was the most likely among them to be married or even become a father first, but you were the more liable one compared to Jake’s clumsy nature, which overall balance out the relationship. The two of you were also the only ones in a committed relationship amongst your friends.

Anyone could guess that you and Jake were eventually going to end up like together together, but they hadn’t expected it to happen so abruptly.

“How far along are you?” Ningning was the first to speak, immediately pulling you into an enthusiastic hug.

“Almost 2 months,” You replied, gently cradling your lower abdomen to show her. You glanced at Jake, who was smiling beside you. “We’ve got our first gynecology appointment next week to get an ultrasound.”

You didn’t miss the way her eyes filled with tears and her lips pouted as she stared lovingly at you and Jake together. Seeing her so excited and sentimental made you feel almost emotional yourself. She pulled you into another tight hug, and you gladly returned it.

“Dude, you’re gonna be a fucking baby daddy,” Jay said, approaching Jake with his usual fervor and pulling him into a rough hug, in typical Jay fashion.

After congratulating you, Sunghoon smacked Jay on the chest with a serious scowl. “Oh my god, Jay, don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Lena joined the group, draping an arm over your and Jake’s shoulders with a proud smile. “So now that everyone knows you’re pregnant, let’s just agree that I’m going to be the baby’s best godparent.”

You and Jake laughed at the chorus of denial coming from the others, obviously objecting to who truly had the worth to hold that title. The situation was almost comedic, and you could always count on your friends to lighten the mood by arguing among themselves about something so minuscule regarding the baby. At the sight of that, you found a comforting relief in your chest just watching them, knowing that your baby was going to have so many reliable adults (sorta) to look after and pamper them until the end of the world.

Next week arrived, and the gynecology appointment came swiftly. You and Jake patiently waiting at the receptionist waiting room for your name to be called. There was a unspoken nervousness that course through the both of you, but you held each other's hand in silent encouragement as the staff gave you some documents to signed over in the mean time.

“—and who is the person accompanying you, Ms?” the nurse asked without thinking over the counter, causing you to pause and glance at Jake awkwardly.

You weren't sure what to tell her. It made sense to say that Jake was your boyfriend; surely she would understand, right? But maybe the self-consciousness was creeping in, making you fearful of being judged as incompetent or insecure in your situation for choosing to have a baby despite not having the security of marriage. You had seen the debates about it all on the internet, and it was only human to feel a bit self-conscious about people's views.

Jake shot you one of his warm smiles when he noticed your hesitation— the kind that always made you feel safe. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he replied nonchalantly, never breaking eye contact with you.

"I'm the baby's father, ma'am."

Jake’s words gave you the strength you needed throughout the process— from meeting the doctor, to her placing the ultrasound device on your abdomen, to watching the faint outline of your baby on the monitor. Unfortunately, the baby’s heartbeat couldn’t be heard in the early phase of the 1st trimester in your case, which was probably for the best, since you and Jake would have likely ugly cried even harder if you’d heard it together.

Things started to fall into place one by one— Jake began his internship without a hitch, and you continued with your classes as usual. Despite Jake’s concerns, you promised him you wouldn’t push yourself too hard, though it took plenty of reassurance to ease his puppy-like worry. You’d told yourself that if you could make it to an 8am lecture on Greek monologue after partying until 3am on the same day, you could handle at least that much of hardship of pregnancy.

The biggest change was Jake’s decision to rent an apartment now that he was earning a steady income. He thought it was a good idea for you both to have a shared space to take care of the baby, knowing it would be challenging to do so while living separately. You were happy to keep things minimalistic, just grateful for Jake’s sacrifices, though he always assured you he was more than okay with it— jokingly saying that he can now finally have you all to himself to spoil.

And he did. Jake took care of you more than you could care for yourself. He was patient with you during your sudden mood changes, cleaned the place on days when you were physically incapable of doing so, and still managed to satisfy your odd cravings in the middle of the night when he came home from work. Even then, he was willing to massage your legs when the swelling caused you pain to walk.

It almost felt like you were taking him for granted, and there were moments when you wondered if he might become exhausted by the constant stress. You wouldn’t blame him if conversations of regret started to dwell in his mind. Yet every day, without fail, he would lay down beside you on the bed at the end of the day while facing each other. His hand would trail to caress your protruding stomach as he whispered sweet words, as if he were already communicating with your unborn child, thanking you for your efforts of giving him the chance to be a father.

With his help, the feelings of insignificance and uselessness began to fade in the background, and you slowly accepted that pregnancy was not an easy journey. Both of you were holding each other by a thread, sharing the hope of welcoming your child by the end of this dark tunnel.

Almost four months passed by more quickly than you expected. The physical and emotional changes you and Jake faced each day made time feel both swift and excruciatingly slow— if that was even possible. However, the silver lining was that your body was getting used to the growing baby. You were finally able to move around freely instead of feeling stuck between your bed and the sofa. Your appetite had returned to normal, allowing you to eat without much difficulty.

At your recent appointment with the gynecologist, the baby had reached the stage where the gender could be clearly identified. Your friends, eager to make it a lasting memory, insisted on throwing a baby shower and gender reveal party to mark the occasion. Jake and Lena went out to pick up the specially ordered cake from a bakery, while Sunghoon and Ningning teamed up to decorate the living room (despite some playful bickering about where things should go). You and Jay took charge of the food and drinks for the guests— well, mostly Jay, since he insisted you sit down and rest while he handled everything.

Jay nagged you more than usual as he rummaged through your fridge, clearly concerned about how empty it was. In the meantime, he prepped a bunch of healthy snacks for you, making you laugh at his grumbling but underlying affection, almost as if he were the one who was pregnant instead of you.

The party began once everyone arrived, including some of your close friends like classmates Sunoo and Minjeong, along with Riki and Jungwon—juniors Jake had met through his dance club— and, of course, Jake's parents.

Your apartment, once a quiet space for just you and Jake, now felt like a lively festival, filled with so many loved ones. The excitement in the room warmed your heart as you sat at the table with the gender reveal cake in front of you. Everyone of them wore colors representing the gender they believed the baby would be— though some were definitely more adamant about their guesses.

"Hey, love," Jake greeted, leaning down to give your forehead a gentle kiss before taking the seat beside you. "How’s our little corn doing?"

You found it adorable that Jake had taken to giving the baby different nicknames based on their size each week. Ever since he stumbled upon a website showing how big the baby was at each stage, he’d started affectionately referring to them as different fruits and vegetables, each one a silly little surprise for you to look forward to.

"Doing good, though their mom would really appreciate it if they’d stop kicking her uterus so much.” you replied, resting a hand on your bump.

"Ohhh, we’ve got a little football player on the way," Jake said with a goofy grin, clearly eager to teach his child how to kick a ball just like his father had taught him.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his endless excitement. It made your maternal instinct flutter, imagining Jake crouching down to his knees, patiently guiding a mini version of yourselves in the park as you watch them from your seat at the picnic blanket.

You and Jake already knew that no matter what the child was, you’d love them. It didn’t matter to either of you, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s why you opted to wear white for the gender reveal, without any expectations.

"Come on, guys," Sunghoon called, gesturing for you both to focus on the party. His digital camera was already set up to record in the center of the room. "Cut the cake!"

Everyone was on the edge of their seats watching as you and Jake held the knife handle together, slowly slicing through the cream-covered cake. With a shared giggle, you let the slice fall onto the plate, finally revealing the baby pink sponge cake inside. The room erupted in cheers, and party poppers went off with a loud bang, showering everyone in sparkling confetti that rained down in celebration.

You saw Jake’s mother crying tears of joy as Jake's father hugged her with a beaming smile. Your friends couldn't stop clapping and cheering, thrilled about the little princess they’d soon welcome to adore. The energy in the room was electric as Jake pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering “our baby girl” over and over into your ear. You clung to him, echoing his words between choked sobs as you cried together on his shoulder.

You were so happy and so grateful for this moment, yet you couldn't shake the petrifying feeling in your heart. It was a strange inkling that created a small hollow space within you, making it difficult to focus throughout the party, despite your efforts to maintain a smiling facade and convince yourself that everything was alright. You might be able to trick yourself and everyone else, but you knew you could never fool your boyfriend.

"Something's on your mind, isn't it?" Jake asked gently as you both got ready for bed after the party. You looked into his eyes after sitting on the edge of the bed and changing into your nightgown, sighing in defeat as you realized you couldn't say no to him.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" You asked genuinely, a hint of perturbation coloring the cadence of your words.

Jake moved to sit beside you, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face as he leaned in closer, his warmth radiating against you. You couldn’t get enough of the way he looked at you, as if you held his entire universe in your hands. He was intimately familiar with the map of your features, just as he understood your proclivity to overthink, knowing precisely the right words to soothe you. Others might see you as a brooder, but he understood your concern as a reflection of how deeply you cared— about him, about the baby.

"Anything that involves you will always be right," He said. It was a soft whisper in the twilight moonlight, where everything felt quiet and serene, drawing your attention to his expression.

You couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, accentuating the unique quirk of his pouty lips that you adored kissing. It reminded you of the first time you met, when he put in so much effort to impress you with his playful antics and awkward yet charming jokes. You both ended up laughing throughout the entire date, a feeling that blossomed into something deeper.

The way he kissed you now brought back the same feeling you’d had back then, making you feel like you might explode. He traced your jawline gently before grabbing it hastily, angling your lips up to meet his whilst your free hand itched to grab his shoulders. You almost bumped noses as Jake leaned in to deepen the kiss, making it hard to breathe with the intensity of it all.

“She'll love you.” You managed to gasp with the opportunity you had, though he didn’t let you go for long. Smiling against your lips as he realized you meant your baby girl, he slipped a hand down to cup your bump, his smile widening as he felt a tiny kick against his palm.

"She’ll love us," Jake murmured, pulling back just an inch, his gaze flickering to your lips with lust before capturing them again, this time with a ravishness that left you winded. His tongue ventured into your mouth with a hunger like it was the first time, exploring like it was uncharted territory, yet his lips moved against yours with a softness that melted you. Unable to resist, you reached up and tugged gently at his hair, opening your mouth wider to show him you wanted this as much as he did.

"Move up here for me, love." His hands brushed gently along your sides, encircling your waist as he guided you toward the middle of the bed, helping you settle against the headboard in a comfortable position.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" Jake asked with a hint of worry, his palms stroking your inner thighs as your nightgown ride up slightly to expose your skin while you shifted along the mattress.

"I'm okay, Jake," You reassured him, brushing his bangs aside to get a clearer look at him. His slow, mallow pace made you feel a little impatient, a spark of intense desire starting to burn. "I want you to keep going," You begged, voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s mouth slid against yours at your command, sending a warm thrill through you as he coaxed your bottom lip, nibbling on it like something sweet. Jake took this moment to peel your nightgown from your body over your head, making sure you didn’t have to lift a finger as he helped you undress, leaving you in just your panties for him to stop and gaze at.

It took every fiber of your willpower not to shy away and hide from Jake. You were hyper-aware of the physical changes your body had undergone, noticing them unconsciously every morning in the shower. Beyond the growing weight of your belly, you’d observed your areolas darkening, your breasts and curves becoming fuller, and the stretch marks becoming more prominent.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was normal, that it was natural for your body to look and feel this way because pregnancy is complicated. Dwelling on these changes would only hurt you internally, especially when you were certain Jake didn’t think twice about any of them. You knew he loved you unconditionally, for who you were, not just your body.

It was evident in the way Jake’s hooded eyes trailed over your naked skin, studying with fascination every inch with a look of awe. There was something both primal and possessive in his gaze as he swallowed with a heavy breath, instinctively licking his lips. It was as if, just by being there, you were ripping his insanity piece by piece. Heat rose to the tips of your ears, your heart racing as his intense admiration pulled you deeper into the moment, slotting himself between your legs.

"You're beautiful," His hands groped the flesh of your thighs before roaming upward past your stomach to squeeze your breasts. The brush of your hardened nipples against his palm rendered you speechless, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"I look like a planet," You softly joked, finding it rather hard to believe.

Jake looked up at you with a smirk, dipping his head to lick a stripe along the valley of your breast. “Then, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—"

You nearly knocked your head against the headboard when Jake took one of your perked nipples between his swollen lips, letting out a breathless whine as he pulled on the pebble with his teeth.

“—I’ve never wanted to fuck a planet so badly in my life after seeing you.” His groan rumbled against your chest.

You would have point out everything remotely wrong with his statement if only he wasn’t working wonders on your breast. His mouth move to suckle on the hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it messily while his other hand kneaded the other breast, fingers twisting and flicking at the sensitive nub. He alternated between ministrations, giving each peak the same well-deserved attention that makes your back arch at the pleasure.

Your hands searched for something to hold on, slipping under his shirt to trace the defined contours of his back muscles. Just the sensation of your nails clawing desperately over his skin made him shiver.

Jake knew how tenderly aching every part of your body was due to the pregnancy. You were so responsive, so sensitive— completely under the mercy of his touch, letting out loud moans of his name that turned him on. He was obsessed with the way you threw your head back, your skin shuddering with goosebumps, and the way your hips twitched when he rubbed two fingers over your clothed sex, feeling just how wet you were as it soaked through sticking to his fingers.

“Can you feel how wet you are, baby? Your pretty little cunt is drooling for me.” Jake taunted, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers as he moved away from your breasts, placing final, gentle kisses on each puckering nipple to ease their soreness.

"Yes," you shuddered, feeling him press down sharply against your core, making your legs tremble. “Please do something, J-Jake, I’m going crazy."

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you." Jake cooed, pulling his shirt over his head to expose his lean physique.

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants before he sank on his stomach between your legs. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties and peeled the damp fabric from your pussy eagerly, tugging it until it was completely off your legs.

You blushed, noticing the way his face hovered at eye level so close to your bare pussy. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your aching core.

"So swollen and pretty," He purred, watching your moist folds glistening with arousal as you clenched over nothing at his words. His thumb pressed gently on your skin, spreading the delicate flesh to reveal your puffy clit while his other hand held you firmly under your thigh.

A stream of curses spilled from your lips as Jake flattened his tongue against your wet folds, lapping at your slit with fervor to work you open. His plump lips were soft, yet his tongue had a roughness that drove you wild, the contrasting sensations leaving you breathless as he devoured you.

Jake let out low groans of pleasure, spurred on by your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails grazing his scalp as you urged him closer to your bucking hips. He felt your thighs pressing in on either side of his face, only driving him to inhale deeply as the tips of his nose nudge against your clit with every lick and suckle, savoring your scent and juices as it grew sweeter.

“You taste so good, baby, could munch on you forever," He mumbled, moving his skillful tongue to roll over your throbbing clit, flicking the bundle of nerves playfully as he relished in the way you were grinding against his mouth.

The lewd sounds you made were a hymn that only fueled Jake’s desire, making him groan as he hump his clothed erection against the mattress, his tip twitching with precum because you tasted too good to be true. Jake was a devotee when it came to you. Your body was a holy temple, and your beautiful cunt was a deity he was willing to kneel before in worship, especially if heaven tasted like it did between your legs.

"J-Jakey, oh my God," You sobbed out, squeezing you eyes shut. "Feels so, so good—Hmnh—"

You nearly choked on your own words when Jake probed his middle finger to your entrance, his saliva mixed with your slick arousal allowed him to insert his finger smoothly into your velvet walls. You instinctively clenched around his digit at the intrusion, savoring the way he curled it just right, grazing that sensitive spot that made your abdomen pulse erratically.

He didn’t move the finger, as if slipping it in was simply to give your tightening walls something to clutch around, to loosen you and make you feel occupied. You couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, panting heavily as the knot in your stomach tightened. If just one finger was making you feel this intense, you couldn’t imagine the burning sensation his thick cock would bring instead.

Jake sensed the shift in your demeanor when he glanced up, watching you fondled your tender breast with one hand, while the other cradled the underside of your protruding belly as your body writhed. You were close to release, and this spurred him on, his mouth lapping over your delicate pearl with a rapid, more intense rhythm than before, and soon the bedsheets were damp with your creamy juices running down his chin.

"I'm gonna cum, oh God, Jake! I'm gonna—"

Your mouth opened wide, caught up in your orgasm, unable to utter a single sound as your face contorted, nearly blacking out as waves of release crashed over you. Jake’s tongue wriggled against your engorged clit with precision, feeling your walls clenched his finger in a vice-like grip, each movement making the pleasure of your climax worth while.

"Such an obedient pussy.” He mouth out along the expanses of your spent slit, sliding between your cheeks and along the groves of your folds until he languidly kissed your clit. “You came on my tongue so fucking good, baby."

It took a moment for you to recover. It had been months since you’d had any sort of copulation like this, and the expenditure of your release left you shivering under the cold sweat on your skin, the tremors gradually subsiding.

Still, you mustered enough energy to prop yourself on your elbow, watching as Jake sat up and plunge his wet middle finger into his mouth, savoring every drop of your excess essence like liquid gold. Disheveled and his cheeks flushed pink, licking his cum-stained cupid's bow.

Jake leaned forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You’re doing so well for me," He whispered, his hands rubbing your stomach affectionately, as if to check on the baby's state. "Are you okay? Want to keep going?"

You nodded blankly, your finger trailing down to pull on the drawstrings, making him chuckle as he helped tug them loose. Jake hurriedly pulled down his sweatpants with your aid, tossing them onto the bedroom floor. His length spring stiffly against his abs, the tip a deep shade that matched your flushed cheeks as you realized just how eager you’d looked reaching for his pants.

"Sorry." You apologized. "Just...need you inside me right now."

"You're so cute when your cock hungry," Jake shakes his head, giving you those bedroom eyes before pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips. "Lie down for me, love, and let me make that aching pussy feel good."

Jake helps you settle your head on the pillow, guiding you to lie down on your side, as lying on your back was no longer an option. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he wraps his body snugly against your back, pulling you close to his chest. You wish you could face him, craving the intimacy of it while he fucks you, but with your belly in the way, spooning from behind was the best position.

One of his hands went beneath you, supporting the underside of your stomach to hold you in place. You could hear him spit on his palm, his other hand pumping and lubricating his cock in preparation, making your toes curl in anticipation. His hot breath fanned against your nape, his lips sliding across your skin with feather-like kisses.

“You stay just like that.” Jake remarked, and you whimper out loud when you felt his cockhead circling your entrance, probing at the hole experimentally with the slightest pressure. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He began easing himself into your tightness slowly, hearing you wince as his length stretched against the resistance of your wall.

"Relax for me, baby. Let me in— yeah, just like that. Good girl."

His thumb circled soothingly on your hip encouragingly as you gradually dilated, allowing his tip to press on the deepest part of your swelling walls. Biting your lower lip, you curled inward, cheeks smushed against the soft pillow, on the verge of exploding as Jake buried himself fully, stilling to give you time to adjust to his size.

It was impossible to believe you'd had his cock so many times before, familiar with just how large and hard he could occupied inside you. But now, with your body rearranged to accommodate a living being in your womb, you felt as though you were bursting at the seams, struggling to take all of him.

It didn’t help that this was the first time you felt each other so raw, without any latex barrier to dull the heat as he seeped into your sensitive walls, every vein pressing against your plush insides. Jake was grunting heavily too, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you pulsing tightly around his cock, like a snug sleeve almost too small to take him, fully realizing just how swollen you were due to the baby.

"Y/N," He soothes breathlessly close to your ear. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," You managed to reply meekly, albeit the initial painful sensation was starting to fade but soon turns pleasurable. You could feel your walls adapting to Jake's cock, and a pleasant pressure began to build rapidly. You found yourself craving friction, bucking your hips back slightly to signal him. "You can move, Jake."

The pace of his thrusts was steady at first. He was testing the waters on how far he could take while gauging your reaction. He was attentive to your body language, and when your moans started to increase in volume and your ass bounced back to meet his thrusts halfway, Jake gripped your hips more aggressively. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was almost out before pounding back until his pelvis was flushed against the curve of your spine. He did it over and over again, making you go insane, feeling each other’s sweat sticking your back to his front.

"T-Too deep, Jake. Fuck, it's too fucking deep," You slurred, your voice heavy as if lost in the clouds, the lewd sound of skin slapping echoing in the room as he hit your sweet spot mercilessly from behind.

"Yeah, baby? You like how I fuck your tight pussy?" Jake laughed lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear.

He wished he could see your expression as he grabbed your leg and lifted it, hooking it over his thigh. The angle allowed him to kiss that spot so perfectly engraved in you that the pleasure was almost blinding, making it feel as though he was splitting you apart.

"Feel that? Can you feel how deep I am?"

You were too speechless to answer, so hyperfocus on reaching your high when you felt your baby’s kicking against your belly. You couldn’t help but place a hand over Jake’s, his hand that never left its spot to support the weight of your lower stomach. You didn’t know what came over you to let those incoming words slip. Maybe deep down, you knew how much Jake's paternal instinct would enjoy hearing them.

"G-Gonna make you a dad, Jake." You gasped out when his hold on your leg tightens, your brazen words made his body tense up. "Fuck, gonna make you the father of our babies."

Like a flip of a coin, you were haunted with the beat of the bed squeaking in tandem with Jake's thrust. It was ruthless, it was feral and with each punch of his tip against that sweet spot ripples unbearable pleasure, leaving you a mess of screams.

"That’s right, love. You’re gonna take all my seed like your body was meant to, right? Let me fill your womb until you're nice and full." Jake's voice deepened, a savagery in his demeanor to absolutely batter and bruise your birth canal that you'd have no choice but to accept his cock and his sperm.

You let out a pathetic yes, captive by the way Jake was so turned on by the prospect of him putting another baby in you that your body was slowly surrendering yourself to his gospels. Jake could feel his self control loosening, one hand reaching to grasp your bouncing tits from behind to roughly pinch a tender peak.

"Can’t wait to see you nurse our babies like a good mama.” He was biting the shell of your ear as you squirmed, feeling his thumb’s nail running roughly over your nipple. “Letting them latch on your pretty little nipples until you're leaking with milk.”

His words affected you in ways that felt almost ludicrous, your tender buds and heavy bosoms tingling with anticipation at the mere thought of that sucking motion once your baby is born. Familiar white spots dotted your vision as your release drew closer, the knot in your core tightening so deeply that there wasn’t a semblance of control left in your mind.

Jake was slipping under your touch as well, feeling your gaping hole pulling him in like a sealed vacuum. He couldn’t help but imagine his cock imprinted on the pink linings of your cunt, teetering at the brink of delirium but focused solely on seeing you come undone before giving in to his own desire.

"Gonna make you my wife, baby." Jake's assaults slows down but he used that as a leverage to rail you deep and precise, his movements were deliberate that he knew just the right amount of power to beckon your orgasm forward. "You’ll let me use your pussy forever, until all you can do is get pregnant and have my kids, yeah?"

Incoherent screams of agreement spilled from your lips, and you felt an atomic-like stir scattering from head to toe as your threshold was crossed. Jake said words that encouraged your release— I love you, baby, want you to cum for me. Your climax was blinding, yet at the same time, it revealed the answer to the universe: all you could think about was Jake, Jake, Jake and how much you love him back.

The said man anchored your body close as you convulsed uncontrollably, letting your orgasm wash over you, growing limp with overstimulation. Jake continued to thrust his aching cock once, twice more, his swollen tip twitching against the entrance of your cervix before he let out a long, begrudging moan of triumph into your shoulder, ropes of his creamy cum coated your walls, marking you profoundly with his seed.

Jake always daydream about this moment; all those fantasies led to this as he felt his thick load dripping down the crack of your pussy, spilling down to your inner thighs as you couldn't hold any more of him.

There were no words shared between you two for a minute, ragged breathing and the humidity of sex occupied the space. The aftermath of your highs were intoxicating you in the best way possible, leaving no room for arguments that he had fucked you to another dimension. You wished to bask in this atmosphere a little longer, to soak in each other's presence and recover your bearings. But Jake, ever attentive, lifted himself up, no matter how exhausted he was, and rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to your pulse.

One hand reached out to push away the wispy strands of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead as you craned back to look at his smiling face and gooey haze, reaching out to hold his jaw as well.

You snorted tiredly. "You have that creepy smile on you again."

"You said yes," He leaned closer to whisper against your lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lands a quick peck to your lips.

You frowned, tilting your head in confusion. "To what?

"My proposal."

@moonheecore All rights reserved. Do not translate or post my works anywhere without permission.

[amiableness]

Kiss and Makeup

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: James ruins reader’s date and attempts to make it better.

Word Count: 2829

Warnings: Jealous!James; kissing; and reader wearing heels, jewelry and makeup.

A/N 💌: A quick James oneshot that’s been on my mind, but I’m heavily consider making a second part to this.

As usual, thank you to @moonpascal for reading!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Go on, kiss and make up!” Sirius’ voice trails after you as you hurry down the corridor, James close on your heels. On any other day, you might have tossed a playful jab back at Sirius, well-accustomed to his relentless teasing about you and James. But today, the weight of everything made your throat tighten, leaving you silent, your focus fixed on reaching the safety of your dorm.

The sharp click of your heels echoed off the stone walls, and James’ muttering about your surprising speed in heels barely registers. Your anger simmers, blocking out his words as you storm ahead and shove the door open. James is right behind you, catching it just before it could slam shut in his face, determined not to let you shut him out.

“Get out, Jamie.” Though your voice was laced with anger, the way you used his nickname gave him a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t hopeless—there was still a chance to make everything better.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” James says, stepping forward and leaning against the post of Lily’s bed as he watches you roll your eyes and turn into the room. He doesn’t say anything as you begin furiously grabbing clothes and scattered heels off the floor—remnants of you getting ready for a date, now tainted by the tension hanging between you two.

“There’s nothing to figure out! You ruined my date, plain and simple.” You spin around, clutching a black heel in your hand, and for a fleeting moment, James braces himself, half-expecting you to launch it at him in a fit of frustration. But it’s you, his sweet best friend—the one who cares so deeply for others that you always put them before yourself. It’s a trait that drives James a little crazy sometimes, knowing you’d sacrifice your own happiness without a second thought.

The realization only sharpens the sting of your anger, an unfamiliar weight he’s not used to carrying. He can recall times you’ve been disappointed—maybe after one of his careless pranks or his thoughtless disregard for someone’s feelings—but never this. Never this level of anger.

“I said I was sorry.” He tries, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you scoff and turn away, angrily kicking off your heels. You bend down to pick them up, and despite himself, his eyes drift to the curve of your body. He knows he shouldn’t be looking, but he can’t help it—he’s never been able to take his eyes off you. And now, a bitter feeling twists in his gut, knowing you’re dressed all pretty for someone else.

“You’re not, though. Why the fuck did you feel the need to scare him off?” You toss the heels into your trunk and turn to face him, arms crossed. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die before they form—because he doesn’t know how to tell you the truth. He knows exactly why, but admitting it out loud would change everything between you. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

The silence between you stretches, heavy and unspoken, as you wait for an answer he isn’t ready to give. You both know exactly what you’re waiting for—a proper explanation.

One you’ve been holding out hope for, quietly, for years.

“It’s not fair, you know.” You let out a deep sigh, turning to face your desk, your gaze falling on the mirror. James watches as you begin to remove your jewelry, your back turned to him, but his reflection still catches glimpses of you.The anger in your voice has softened, but he knows that if he says the wrong thing, it could all flare up again, as sharp and sudden as before.

“What isn’t?” He hesitates, watching you carefully as he takes a cautious step forward. His eyes follow the way your lips part in the mirror, the soft exhale of frustration escaping you as you fumble with your necklace.

He wants to step forward, to gently brush your hair aside and unfasten the clasp, to press a soft kiss against the back of your neck once the necklace slips away. But he can’t—so he remains still, trapped in silence, as he watches you instead.

“Why is it that you go out with girl after girl, but when I show interest in a guy, you scare him off?” You already knew the answer—weren’t blind to it. It had been clear to everyone that you and James had been circling each other for years, dancing around unspoken words.

But he refused to admit that he cared for you as more than friends. It felt pointless to tell him how you felt when it was clear James was intent on keeping you in the friend zone.

From the moment crushes became a part of your life, James had been yours. But you were never certain about his feelings—until that one night when he got blackout drunk and confessed he was in love with you. He has no memory of that drunken night, but you overheard him later, telling the boys he’d never drink that much again because he wanted to actually remember the parties he went to. You’d felt a pang of disappointment, but you were gathering the courage to confront him about it. Then, the next day, he hooked up with a girl from Ravenclaw, and just like that, all your resolve crumbled, leaving you feeling more invisible than ever.

He didn’t remember what he’d said, and if he was out with other girls, it was clear he didn’t care enough to mention it while sober.

That was a year ago, and you still hadn’t brought it up. 

So, to cope with the mess of it all, you went on a date—a rare one, the first in nearly a year. And now, here was James, wrecking it all over again.

“I—” He stops himself, clearing his throat, the tension in his voice betraying the lie before he even finishes. “I don’t think that’s true. You go out on dates.”

He knew he spent a lot of time flirting with girls—whether it was during class, when he should have been paying attention, or at parties where conversation flowed too easily. But when someone showed interest in you? That was a different story altogether. He’d like to blame it on the fact that you were his best friend, but deep down, he knew better.He was protective of you because he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone looking at you the way he did. Was it selfish? Definitely. But the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything.

“You know that’s a lie. You saw how excited I was! Why did you take that from me?” You were fully aware of how weak and accusatory your voice sounded, but you didn’t care. You were hurt, and it was clear in the way you shook your head, disappointment heavy in every movement. James watched your reflection, noticing the way you swallowed hard as if trying to shove down the swell of emotions threatening to break free. And with that, a wave of guilt slammed into his stomach, settling there like a stone.

“I just didn’t want him to hurt you!” 

“So you decided to take that off his hands and hurt me instead?” You scoffed, making James flinched as if you had slapped him. It probably would have hurt less if you had.

“Merlin, no! Sweetheart, that wasn’t what I was trying to do—”

“Then what were you trying to do, James? Because I’m getting tired of this little game, we have going on.” 

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes following your hand as you gently remove one of your earrings. For a moment, your gazes meet through the mirror, and the weight of it all presses down on him. He wishes, desperately, that you would justturn around and face him.

He was racking his brain, searching for the right words, trying to find a way to fix this. He considered stepping back, giving you space like he did when you got agitated with him. But this felt different. It wasn’t just about a moment of frustration—it was something deeper, something that could damage your friendship permanently if he didn’t speak up. He knew he had to fix this.

“You guys make up yet?” Sirius hollered, and James could practically picture him standing at the  bottom of the stairs with his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted at the both of you.

Sirius’ words from earlier echoed in his head as if they were taunting him, swirling around like a cruel mantra. 

Go on, kiss and make up.

It felt like an accusation, a reminder of how much he’d messed up. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, twisting in his gut. Every nerve in his body screamed that his next move would either make everything worse—digging the hole even deeper—or finally give him a chance to tell you why he’d ruined your date. But the fear of losing you pushed him forward.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Stop what—?” You ask, tossing your last piece of jewelry into the ceramic dish with a sharp clang before turning to face James. Your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer, and without thinking, you instinctively take a step back, bumping into your desk. The sudden movement rattles the items on top, sending a soft, anxious clatter through the room.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as James reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and James can’t help but think how pretty you look—more than he’s ever allowed himself to admit. 

He’s never been able to admire you like this before, not without the constant fear of you catching him.

His hands are shaky, and his proximity to you is making him nervous in a way that he couldn’t quite shake. But he didn’t know how else to explain himself. So, tentatively, he let his fingers graze your skin, admiring how you melted into him. He watches, heart pounding, as your lashes flutter and your lips part in surprise at the softness of his touch. The anger in your eyes had faded, leaving behind disbelief and something that looked dangerously close to hope.

He startles both himself and you when the words slip out, low and raw: “You make me so fucking nervous.” You blink up at him, silent, processing the confession. His gaze drifts over the mascara you’d carefully applied, the gloss glistening on your lips—details he hadn’t noticed before, but now felt like a punch to his gut. The jealousy flares, burning hot and fast in the pit of his stomach. It was devastating to realize you were all dressed up, and it wasn’t for him. Those heels, thoseglossed lips—they were for a guy who hardly knew you. 

Not like James knew you.

You part your lips, and James unknowingly silences you with a gentle brush of his thumb just beneath your lower lip. A soft, satisfied smile tugs at his mouth as he hears the gasp escape you. His hand rests on your left hip, pulling you closer, grounding you against him. The tension in the room thickens, and just like that, your anger has melted.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his voice low and thick with intention as he edged closer. His fingers caressing your jaw, tilting your face upwards, bringing you within a breath of him. The air between you crackles, heavy and charged, and you feel the pull—the tempting, intoxicating proximity. He was so close now, you could feel the warmth of his breath, and all it would take was the slightest movement for his lips to claim yours.

You thought about saying it—the words were right there, just on the tip of your tongue. But then his lips brushed against yours just barely, and everything else faded away. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no—not when this was something you’d wanted for years. Even with the anger simmering inside you, the frustration over James ruining your date, you couldn’t pull away.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

If anything, a strange sense of relief was starting to wash over you—relief that he had ruined it. Because if he hadn’t, it might have been another guy standing where he was now, and the thought of that made something tighten painfully in your chest.

“Last chance.” He mumbled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, searching for any sign that you might stop him. The only sound between you was the uneven rhythm of your breaths, erratic and heavy, pulsing with the desire that surged between you both. When you didn’t say a thing, no rejection, no hesitation—only the warmth of your breath mingling with his—he offered a barely-there smile before leaning in, his lips finally capturing yours with a slow, gentle kiss.

He started slow, cautious, as if afraid he might push you away. But the wrecked hum that escaped your throat—the sound of pure desire—told him everything he needed to know. You wanted this as much as he did.

It was overwhelming how quickly the kiss shifted—what started as sweet and searching, quickly turned frantic and hungry. The slow, deliberate pace gave way to a fiery urgency. The gentle brush of lips became a desperate meeting of mouths as the two of you gave into years of pining.

Your hands, which had been gripping the edge of the desk hard, moved slowly toward him. You let your fingers trail up his stomach, feeling the dips and ridges before reaching his chest. Your other hand found its way into his curls, youtugged softly, the motion pulling a low, pleasure-filled groan from deep within him. That sound, the sound of him unraveling, seemed to shatter something inside James. In an instant, he stepped closer—if that was even possible—until your bodies were pressed together, the heat between you two undeniable, consuming.

He pulled away just an inch, and the desperate whine that escaped your lips was enough to pull him back in, his arms circling your waist before effortlessly lifting you onto the desk. You gasped his name, the sound caught in your throat, as his lips claimed yours again, urgent and hungry. One hand slid around your thigh, pulling you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he stood between your parted legs. His grip on your hip was firm, grounding, while his other hand found its place at the side of your throat, fingers warm and possessive.

You had never been kissed like this before. It was overwhelming—an all-consuming heat that ignited deep in your belly as James kissed you with a hunger, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

And it was ruining you, because if this was how it felt to kiss James Potter, you never wanted to be kissed by anyone else ever again.

He rocked his hips against yours, the pressure making you gasp, and that breathless sound was all he needed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were so completely immersed in him—the feel of his lips, the taste of him—that the low, teasing whistle from your doorway barely registered in your mind.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect you to actually go and kiss her.” Sirius’ voice rang out, loud and unfiltered. The words struck a panic through you, your body warming with embarrassment as you instinctively tucked your head into James’ chest, hoping to hide from the intrusion. You would recognize Sirius’ voice anywhere, and you knew you would be teased about this for ages.

James, with you still propped on the desk, remained a shield, his body pressed protectively against yours. He glanced over at Sirius and Remus, who stood by the doorway. Sirius, leaning against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, while Remus stood next to him, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of awkwardness.

“Fuck off and shut the door, mate.” James groans, his arms pulling you tighter as he fights the urge to hurl a book at Sirius and Remus. Instead, he sends them a warning glare and brings a hand up to the back of your head, the heat of the moment still burning between you, and silently dares them to say anything more.

The boys hesitate, but not before Sirius calls out with a teasing smirk, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Potter. You finally got your girl.” And just like that, the door slams shut, leaving the air thick with tension and you cringing in embarrassment.

Maybe telling him you loved him wasn’t that pointless after all.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write and spread my work! 🤍

[titania-sleeps]

Human Bloodbag Yandere x Vampire Reader

so i totally lied when i said i would wait until next month to post this. i offer you another good boy.

as a note, his characterization is a little different from my initial idea of him but i ended up liking this more. there's no explicit scene in here except a lil biting here and there but that won't be true for future Dion works >:3

• Dion was born and bred your bloodbag. From birth until the moment he dies, he will be your bloodbag.

• Dion never really had a choice. In the world that he knew, all humans were subservient to their vampiric masters. His parents were never truly his; they were the servants of Mordred the Terrifying. Like all the other human children in this world, his blood was crafted with a specific monster in mind.

• Dion's blood was sweet. Pure saccharine and hints of despair. He was mixed with you in mind, a candidate to replace one in the Council of the Elder Ancestors.

• Dion first met you when you were six and he was seven. He was struck with both an intense loathing and a gentle warmth. His master was standing in front of him, yet he couldn't bear to look at you in the eyes. You weren't impressed with him either, but at the very least, you didn't look at him with contempt.

• Dion spent the month as your personal servant under the instruction of your governess, Madam Lilith Hatheway. He learned to distinguish the sickly pleasantries of poison from your plain juice. He learned to fend off potential enemies and greet your benefactors. He learned the sharpness of knives and how humans could bleed ever so easily. He learned hatred, abhorrence, desperation, eagerness, joy, and elation all in the time he spent with you.

• Dion nearly fled the day he was meant to be bitten by you. Fear coursed through his veins, but Madam Lilith held him still and your eyes were daggers pinning him to the ground. You approached him with a simple glide of your steps, and your teeth were upon his exposed neck before a scream could escape his throat.

• Dion's vision grew blurry as the world spun around him. Or perhaps the world was spinning around you and he was caught up in it. You are the gravity of his world and he had to fall into you. You remained attached to his neck for an eternity, and he soon found himself losing consciousness.

• Dion woke up the next day, having grown to be eight years of human age, and you sitting next to his bedside. He was distinctly alive, yet also empty of what little fear and life he had clung onto so desperately in the last month.

• Dion listened to you closely as you explained with thinly veiled concern that he was now bonded to you. For as long as you were alive, he would be too. Under your curse, he would no longer experience the same emotions as a free human. Instead, his emotions would slowly be replaced by an undeniable sense of servitude towards you.

• Dion couldn't mourn the passing of what he had never possessed. He accepted his fate and swore his loyalty to you. You looked displeased.

• Dion remained by your side for the next hundred years as you matured. You treated him coldly but not unkindly. Perhaps it was because of your bitter nature that he never grew the attachment for you that he was promised. But he was fond of you, and it was not due to fate or the blood bond that the two of you shared that created this emotion in him.

• Dion never faulted you for binding him to you. The Elder Ancestors demanded you to bite him, and he knew you couldn't deny them. You were six, and they were more than six thousand.

• Dion knew too well the emotions that went through you every day. He could feel it from your gaze and from the blood in his veins. Guilt, displeasure, fear, and a sprinkle of affection. And as he gazed back into your eyes, he knew that you were just like him. A cog in the machinations of this limiting cage, engineered and designed to sustain itself for centuries upon centuries.

• Dion blamed it on his faulty sense of camaraderie, but he couldn't help himself from trying to get closer to you. Another decade passed before he saw your sincere smile for the first time. But it wasn't directed at him.

• Dion, for the first time, understood what others would call "blood boiling." His body was heated in fury as you exchanged casual pleasantries with another vampire gentleman your age. You seemed to be immediately infatuated with his dark brows and suave demeanor, but Dion didn't let it advance. For years upon years, he has known you to be a glacial creature, blue blood and ice running in your veins. Are you only now to tell him that you could experience the same joy and despair that he could?

• Dion intercepted this shameful display of... of whatever it was. You were of greater nobility than this meager creature, so there was no need for you to be conversing so vibrantly with him.

• Dion drove the man away and you brought Dion home in a fit of rage. You were still young and he was not much older than you, but even then, he felt you were being unreasonable. You claimed that he was jealous because of the blood bond you shared with him, but he knew that couldn't have been the case. It was not gentle jealousy that he held towards the man, but righteous anger.

• Dion succumbed himself to your punishment, which was rather weak for how furious you seemed. He was roughly pushed onto your bed, your fangs baring at him. The bite was filled with your sadness and loneliness, and he embraced your form joyously.

• Dion didn't push you away as you sucked his blood endlessly. The venom you injected into him filled him with adult pleasure*. He held his body still as his arms pulled you even closer to him. Throwing his head back, he laughed. It was a carefree sound, not at all suitable for a bird in a cage. His laugh startled you and you unmounted your fangs from his neck, staring at him incredulously.

• Dion urged you to continue sucking his blood. He would agree to give you him wholly if you would only suck his blood and only his. You were confused; he was already yours in name and in blood. What more of him could he give you? Then you peered into his eyes.

• Dion's eyes were the color of turbulent waves that swept and drowned those who were unwary. They held the deepest of blues and the darkest of greys. A treasure trove of desires and epiphanies opened to you as you dove deeper.

• Dion cocked his head to the side, baring his neck. Your puncture brought pink to the skin surrounding the wound, but no blood seeped out. A knowing smile danced on his lips.

• Dion was a monster you created. So you have to take responsibility for him.

* my vampire headcanon is that you don't get the aphrodisiac or whatever tf vampires inject into their victims until you come of age

-> masterlist

[maypiles]

But I'm very homesick for arms that have never hold me🎀🪞

PICK A PILE: What Do You Need to Hear, What Do You Need to Know?🦢🩰

You guys are not ready for this one, because let me tell you—Spirit decided to wake me up with a Chihiro x Ariana Grande mashup blaring in my head like an alarm clock, and I just knew. This isn’t a coincidence; this is a channeled message, loud and clear. I mean, who else gets spiritual downloads with a side of TikTok trends? Clearly, I’m favored. Anyway, grab your coffee, your crystals, or whatever you need to ground yourself, because today’s reading is about to serve you layers of spicy revelations, unexpected clarity, and a sprinkle of divine chaos (because why not?). If you're feeling hot flashes, dreaming in metaphors, or noticing all the crows in your neighborhood suddenly staring at you like they’ve got something to say—this one’s for you. Let’s get into it, shall we?

❗This is a collective reading so please take what resonates and leave what does not❗ Please be careful of scammers, I'll never reach out to you and ask you for money or personal readings❗

Pile One🦪

My gorgeous Pile 1, let’s talk, because Spirit came in loud with this one—and I mean literally. The crows wouldn’t shut up, the downloads wouldn’t stop, and my body? On fire. Hot flushes, all over, like Spirit turned the heat up to make sure you get this message. So, let’s break it down.

Signs & Synchronicities

Right off the bat, notifications could be huge for you right now—check your messages, your DMs, your emails, whatever. Something important is trying to reach you, and you don’t want to miss it. Chocolate? Perfume? These are connected to sweetness and self-care, but also attraction and indulgence. Are you finally indulging in yourself, Pile 1? Or are you craving something—or someone—that feels just out of reach?

And crows? Let me tell you, they are not just random birds hanging out. They’re messengers, carriers of divine justice, and omens of transformation. If you’ve been hearing or seeing them, this is your wake-up call. Spirit is saying, ‘Listen, babe. We’re talking.’ And that crow sound? It’s sharp, like a reminder to stay alert, to notice what’s unfolding around you. This message has layers, so stay with me.

The Energy—Hot, Spicy, Intense

This whole reading is laced with heat—those hot flushes all over your body? That’s Spirit igniting a fire within you to finally heal. And when I say "heal," I don’t mean just dust off old wounds. No, this is deep, soul-level healing from something that cut you hard and left you spinning. You’ve been carrying this pain for too long, and Spirit is here, loud and unapologetic, telling you it’s time to let it go.

The Cards

Queen of Swords upright with The Star—This is your clarity and your hope. You’re stepping into your truth, cutting through the nonsense, and reclaiming your voice. The Star says healing is happening, but don’t expect it to be gentle. It’s the kind of healing that burns before it soothes. You’re being guided to dream big, even if your dreams seem out of reach right now.

Queen of Swords reversed with Three of Swords—But let’s be real. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? Trying to heal, only to slip back into old cycles. That reversed Queen shows me there’s still some bitterness, some unresolved pain. Spirit is asking you to look directly at your heartbreak without flinching. The Three of Swords is raw, but it’s also a turning point. Acknowledge it, cry over it if you must, but know that it’s not your forever.

Eight of Wands with The Hanged Man—Once you face that pain, things will move fast. Communication, opportunities, and clarity will flood in, but you need to shift your perspective first. The Hanged Man is here to remind you that sometimes, the only way out is through. Let yourself sit with the discomfort—it’s temporary, I promise.

Seven of Swords reversed with Eight of Swords reversed—Oof, someone’s lies or sneaky behavior might have trapped you in your head before. But no more. These cards are about releasing deception, both from others and yourself. Stop lying to yourself about what you want, Pile 1. Stop pretending everything’s fine when you’re screaming inside. You’re freeing yourself from this mental prison, and let me tell you, it’s about damn time.

The Hermit with Knight of Cups—This is where it gets juicy. After all this introspection, someone—or something—new is coming in. The Knight of Cups is a romantic, a dreamer, someone who stirs your heart. Whether it’s a person, a creative project, or an emotional awakening, this is the spark you’ve been waiting for. But it only comes after you’ve done the inner work.

Nine of Pentacles with Five of Swords—You’re stepping into independence and self-worth, but beware of those who might try to sabotage you. The Five of Swords is a warning: not everyone will celebrate your glow-up. Some people are better left in the past.

Ten of Pentacles reversed with Page of Wands—This could indicate a shake-up in your foundation. Maybe it’s family drama, a breakup, or a financial reset. But the Page of Wands reminds you to stay curious and optimistic. New beginnings often feel messy before they feel right.

Knight of Swords with The Devil reversed—Your determination to break free from toxic patterns is unmatched. The Devil reversed says you’re cutting cords, ditching bad habits, and stepping out of cycles that no longer serve you. You’re unstoppable, babe.

Strength reversed with Ace of Cups—Here’s the emotional release. You’ve been holding it together for so long that you’ve forgotten how to let go. The Ace of Cups is your emotional renewal, your fresh start, your permission to feel everything again.

The High Priestess reversed with Queen of Cups—Spirit is saying, ‘Stop doubting yourself.’ Your intuition has been screaming at you, but you’ve been ignoring it. The Queen of Cups is here to remind you of your emotional depth and wisdom. Trust yourself—you already know what’s right for you.

Eight of Pentacles with The Sun—All this hard work you’re putting into yourself? It’s going to pay off in ways you can’t even imagine. The Sun is your ultimate happiness, your reward for all the effort. Keep going; you’re so close.

Five of Cups with Justice—Justice came out right as I was saying, ‘You’re getting your justice.’ Spirit does not play. This is karmic balance, the universe setting things right. Yes, you’ve experienced loss, but it wasn’t in vain. Everything you’ve endured is leading you to this moment of divine justice.

Bottom of the Deck: Temperance—Patience, my love. Healing isn’t a straight line, and balance takes time. But you’re on the right path.

Split Deck: Four of Cups reversed—You’re waking up, finally seeing the opportunities Spirit has been placing in ront of you. Stop dwelling on what didn’t work and focus on what’s possible.

The Message

Pile 1, you’re in the middle of a transformation so profound it’s practically radiating from your cards. You’re healing, releasing, and stepping into your power. Spirit is here, crows and all, to remind you that justice is on your side. Keep pushing through the discomfort—it’s leading you to a life that’s brighter, freer, and more aligned with who you are.

And those notifications? Answer them. Something important is trying to reach you. Stay hot, stay spicy, and stay open to the blessings heading your way.

Pile Two🥀

The Vibe is Magnetic, and Spirit is Dancing With You

Oh, Pile Two. You didn’t just stumble into this reading—you waltzed in, spinning, singing, and twirling with a vibe so contagious it practically leaps off the cards. Let’s talk, because Spirit is loud and clear with this one. There’s a rhythm here, an undeniable flow, and the details? Oh, they’re dripping with significance.

Signs & Synchronicities

Dancing is huge for this pile. Whether you’re on the dance floor or grooving in your kitchen, there’s something about movement and rhythm that feeds your soul. Singing could be just as vital—expressing your voice, your truth, your essence. You might be someone who loves to accessorize—colorful bracelets that jingle with every step, or those stunning braided hairstyles adorned with beads.

The energy here screams personality—vibrant, unapologetic, and undeniably you.

But there’s a competitive streak too, isn’t there? Whether it’s proving yourself to others or loving that rush of pushing boundaries, there’s a fire in you that thrives on standing out and shocking the world. You don’t back down from a challenge—you lean in.

Now, let’s talk about itchiness. An itchy nose, a sudden rash—it’s like your body is reacting to this energy shift. Spirit is saying, “Pay attention!” These physical signs are nudges from the universe, reminders that something big is brewing.

And then there’s the time zone difference. Are you in a long-distance situation? Maybe you’re straddling two worlds—north and south, winter and summer (Timezone difference, Australia mentioned. HELLO?). But what stands out? Spring. A fresh start, a rebirth, a blossoming.

Also, Aries energy is coming in strong—bold, fiery, determined. Maybe it’s in your big three, or perhaps it’s just the vibe you’re stepping into: courageous, unstoppable, and unafraid to take the lead.

The Cards—Breaking It Down

Nine of Wands & The Devil—Let’s start with the tension. You’ve been through the wringer, haven’t you? The Nine of Wands shows resilience—standing tall, even when life keeps throwing curveballs. Paired with The Devil, though, it’s clear there’s something or someone trying to hold you back. Old habits? Toxic patterns? This card combo screams, “Break the chain!” You’re on the verge of freeing yourself from whatever’s been binding you.

Nine of Swords reversed & Five of Pentacles reversed—Here’s the good news: The worst is over. Those sleepless nights, those feelings of lack and abandonment—they’re lifting. You’re stepping out of the shadows, finding your strength again.

Three of Pentacles & Page of Swords reversed—Collaboration is key, but Spirit is warning you: not everyone in your circle has your best interests at heart. The Page of Swords reversed suggests miscommunication or even gossip. Keep your guard up and trust your intuition about who’s really in your corner.

Four of Swords reversed & Queen of Pentacles—You’ve rested long enough. Now, it’s time to get back in the game. The Queen of Pentacles shows you stepping into a nurturing, abundant energy—balancing your hustle with self-care.

The Star & Ten of Pentacles reversed—Hope is your guiding light, but don’t get stuck chasing someone else’s idea of success. The Ten of Pentacles reversed suggests that your “happily ever after” might look different from what you originally envisioned—and that’s okay.

Queen of Cups & Page of Pentacles reversed—Emotionally, you’re in tune, but don’t let small setbacks throw you off course. The Page reversed is a reminder to keep learning, growing, and experimenting without fear of failure.

Seven of Wands reversed & Seven of Cups—You don’t always have to fight. Sometimes, stepping back and reassessing your options (and there are many, trust me) is the best move.

The World & Six of Cups—A cycle is coming to a close, and it’s paving the way for something deeply nostalgic and fulfilling. Whether it’s reconnecting with a person or rediscovering a passion, there’s a sense of coming full circle.

Strength & Judgement—You’re stepping into your power, answering Spirit’s call. This is a rebirth, a reckoning, a chance to redefine yourself. Don’t shy away from the reflection staring back at you.

Knight of Pentacles & Queen of Swords reversed—Slow and steady wins the race, but don’t let impatience or harsh self-criticism derail you. The Knight is reliable, and you’re building something that lasts.

The Bottom of the Deck

The Lovers—Ah, the heart of it all. This is about choices, connections, and alignment. Whether it’s romantic or not, you’re calling in something—or someone—that resonates with your soul.

Split: Nine of Cups & Justice—Wish fulfillment is on the horizon, but Justice says you’ll get exactly what you deserve. This is karma balancing the scales, so trust that what’s coming is meant for you.

The Message

Pile Two, you’re in the middle of a transformation that feels like a dance—sometimes smooth, sometimes chaotic, but always moving forward. Spirit is asking you to embrace your unique rhythm. Let go of what no longer serves you, lean into the things that light you up, and trust that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

That Aries energy? It’s your cue to be bold, fearless, and unapologetically you.

Pile Three🎀

Traveling Through Love, Fireworks, and a Deep Connection

There’s something sparkly and electrifying about this pile, isn’t there? You’re stepping into a story that feels like a whirlwind—like packing up everything in your bags and rushing toward an adventure. Travel is on the horizon, either you’re coming back from a trip, or one is definitely in your future. And it’s not just any trip. There’s a sense that this one will change you, shift you into something more you than you’ve been in a while. But it’s not all about the destination. Oh no, this is about the journey—one full of love, fireworks, lace, and that breathless feeling when you know your heart is about to explode.

Signs & Synchronicities

So many things stand out. First of all, broken earbuds or earphones? That’s a message right there. A reminder that some things, or perhaps even relationships, just don’t stay in one piece. They break, but in the breaking, there’s a deeper connection waiting to be made. There’s an underlying theme of things falling apart to make space for something new and beautiful.

And let’s talk about pink. Baby pink specifically. It’s soft, it’s delicate, but it’s also powerful. Maybe you’ve been seeing pink lately—whether in your wardrobe, decor, or in the most random of places. This is an invitation to open your heart, embrace vulnerability, and trust that love is not only possible but waiting for you.

Then there’s the theme of bags—packed bags. You’re not just physically packing up, though; you’re preparing for an emotional journey. Some of you could be making big moves soon, whether in relationships or lifestyle choices. It’s like Spirit is preparing you for something big, and you’re already subconsciously getting ready.

And fireworks—boom. There’s something that’s about to explode into your life in the most magnificent way. Maybe it’s a relationship, maybe it’s a moment of self-discovery. Whatever it is, it’s going to leave you breathless. Lace could also be significant—delicate, but intricate and deeply meaningful, like the threads of connection in your life.

Travel? I know we’ve mentioned it, but there’s something special about it. You could be reconnecting with someone from your past, or maybe you’re about to meet someone who feels like a past life connection. Someone who’s going to be incredibly dear to you.

The Cards—Breaking It Down

King of Wands & The Devil—The energy here is intense, fire-burning, and possibly a little addictive. The King of Wands is bold, confident, and passionate—someone who knows what they want and goes after it. Paired with The Devil, though, it’s clear that there’s a magnetic attraction here. Maybe there’s a person in your life or someone coming in who embodies this energy—a powerful force that could sweep you off your feet. But beware: there’s something about this connection that could be a little...dangerous. Will it lift you up or leave you craving more?

Three of Pentacles reversed & Eight of Pentacles—You’ve been trying to collaborate, work with others, and build something lasting. But right now, it feels like things aren’t coming together as smoothly as you’d like. Don’t let that dishearten you. The Eight of Pentacles is here to say that your hard work will pay off. Maybe it’s time to focus on yourself for a bit—hone your craft, perfect your skills, and let things fall into place.

Nine of Pentacles & The Chariot—Ah, independence and drive. You’re stepping into your power, learning how to stand alone, but there’s also a rush of energy—like a burst of momentum carrying you forward. The Chariot says go. Whatever it is you’ve been hesitating about, it’s time to take the wheel and drive. You’re unstoppable now.

King of Cups reversed & Seven of Cups—The emotional confusion here is palpable. There’s a lot of energy, but not all of it feels grounded. Is there someone who’s emotionally distant or unstable around you? The King of Cups reversed could indicate that someone close to you is struggling with their emotions, and the Seven of Cups adds to the fog, making everything seem unclear. Keep your heart open, but trust your instincts to cut through the illusions.

High Priestess reversed & Seven of Swords—Don’t let secrets or lies stand in the way. The High Priestess reversed is asking you to trust your intuition, but the Seven of Swords is a warning. Someone may not be telling the truth, or you might be withholding a truth from yourself. Pay attention to what’s hidden—whether it’s in a relationship or in your own actions.

Knight of Cups & Queen of Cups—Here comes the love, or at least, the potential for it. The Knight of Cups is a dreamy, romantic energy, and with the Queen of Cups, this is a deeply emotional connection. Someone is about to step forward—perhaps they’re already in your life—who sees you for who you are, someone who feels like home.

Queen of Pentacles & Four of Wands—Stability, home, family—this is what’s on your mind. You’re looking for something grounded, something that feels like it lasts. The Queen of Pentacles is practical and nurturing, and with the Four of Wands, there’s a sense of celebration. Could this be a wedding, a reunion, or a coming together with someone from your past? Whatever it is, it’s building toward something beautiful.

Strength & Ace of Pentacles—You’ve got the strength to make this new beginning happen. The Ace of Pentacles is all about tangible, grounded beginnings—whether it’s love, work, or both. But it’s going to take courage. Do you have the strength to face what’s ahead? I know you do.

Five of Cups reversed & Six of Cups—Letting go of past hurts, emotional releases, and embracing the lessons. The Six of Cups is all about reconnection—could it be that someone from your past, someone who means the world to you, is coming back into your life? Or maybe it’s just a new love that feels like it’s been years in the making.

Three of Cups & Eight of Swords reversed—Celebration and release. The Eight of Swords reversed is a reminder that you are no longer trapped by your thoughts or circumstances. It’s time to embrace joy, to surround yourself with people who lift you up and support you.

Ace of Cups & Page of Wands—A new emotional beginning is coming, and it’s going to ignite that spark in you. The Page of Wands suggests excitement, curiosity, and exploration—there’s a sense of newness in your emotional journey, and it’s one that’s going to set your heart on fire.

Page of Swords reversed & Star—Communication could be a little off, but don’t let that stop you. The Star brings hope, healing, and renewal. Even if things aren’t perfect right now, there’s a beautiful future waiting for you.

Moon reversed & Two of Cups—Truth is coming to light. The Moon reversed uncovers secrets, and the Two of Cups brings balance, a true partnership, or union. This is about clarity in love. Whether it's someone from your past or a new, deep connection, this relationship is unfolding just as it’s meant to.

The Bottom of the Deck

Ace of Wands reversed—There’s a delay in the beginning, but it’s coming. This is a slow burn, not a flash fire. When the Ace of Wands comes in reversed, it’s a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful sparks take time to ignite.

Split: The World—A cycle is coming full circle, and you’re about to experience completion, closure, or a new phase. The world is a powerful card of achievement, success, and finally coming into your own.

The Message

Pile 3, you’re entering a chapter full of excitement, love, and undeniable fireworks. Whether you’re about to reconnect with someone special or embrace a brand-new relationship that feels like fate, the energy is palpable. Love is coming in hot, but it’s not without its twists and turns. This journey will be full of moments that make you feel like you’re traveling the world, discovering pieces of yourself along the way. Stay open, stay grounded, and let the universe unfold its magic for you. You’re ready.

And there you have it, my darlings. Another reading, another wave of energy to sift through. I hope you caught those messages—whether the fireworks, the lace, or the truth that’s just waiting to spill out. Remember, the universe doesn’t speak in straight lines; it whispers through synchronicities, songs stuck in your head, and moments of undeniable connection. Keep your eyes open, your heart even more so, and let things unfold as they should. Until next time, you know where to find me when you need clarity, a nudge, or just a little dose of cosmic truth. Stay fiery, stay fierce, and always keep a little mystery, darling. Xoxo, May.

[lo1k-diamonds]

A woman's best friend 💜

PAIRING: Taehyung x (f)reader

SUMMARY: When you met, you and Taehyung hit it off instantly, becoming the closest of friends. You thought he was off-limits. Meanwhile, he’s been begging for a chance to put an end to your friendship.

WORD COUNT: 7,004 

GENRE: friends to ?, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: mutual pining, dirty talk, body worship, nipple play, oral (both), rough, sweet, bittersweet, mentions of alcohol, talks about Tae's sexuality

A.N. I heard Fri(end)s and had the idea for this fic... I love this song sooooo much 💜 Thanks to @downbad4yoongi for the beta read! Thank you to @eerieedits for the awesome banner 💜 Edited as I prepare a part 2 😋

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs | AO3 | Wattpad

“Fuck, what I wouldn't give for cock right now.”

Your voice came out in a low groan right before you brought your cold beer bottle to your lips to take a few swigs. The TV was blaring a new episode of Physical:100, and you understood everyone’s obsession with Amotti’s body. For you, it was the lack of sex mixed with alcohol, hormones, and being exposed to hot guys on the TV on a Saturday night. Well, and in real life.

You looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eye. He had taken off his black leather jacket, but his tight white shirt accentuated his chest and wide shoulders. His dark eyes had jumped to yours at your words, but he was drinking his beer and didn’t stop. He was very handsome, something you noticed the moment you met him during photography class when he asked you for help with a project. Your heart had fluttered hard but had since calmed down — he didn’t look at you that way. He was there to admire Amotti’s abs with you. 

At least you had a friend to share these debaucheries with.

“I mean,” he voiced as soon as his lips were free. “I have one right here.”

You threw your head back, laughing, “I know.” You made sure to tap his chest playfully before reaching for another cherry in a bowl on the coffee table, pulling it from the stem between your teeth. “But you know…”

He was looking at you with his usual nonchalance, with legs spread, beer in his hand, and completely relaxed into your couch, but his eyebrow twitched.

So you nodded, “Alright, let me put it better.” You suddenly realized you could be offending him somehow: it was not because a person with a cock was present that they would want to have anything to do with you. So you corrected yourself, “What I’d give for a good fucking.”

He nodded, seemingly understanding, and you smiled, turning to the TV again. You were happy your friendship was like this; you were used to talking about who you were attracted to and helping each other out, and you could openly comment on your thirst. It was perfect.

“Still applies.”

You turned to look at him so quickly that you almost got whiplash. Your eyes were wide, and your mouth blabbered before you could think, “What? But I helped you get it on with what’s his name a few months back.”

Your head was spinning; you were so confused. That night out had been the proverbial nail in the coffin of your secretly harbored hope. 

“Yeah, so?” His voice was monotone at best. “I’m pansexual.”

Your eyes widened comically as your cheeks flushed red. “Oh… I… I…”

“Assumed?” He raised an eyebrow again, and you were flustered but still noticed him fidgeting, with his knee jumping repeatedly.

“Well… Yeah, kind of,” you admitted, with shame forcing your eyes down. Amotti showed on the TV again, and you glanced. “You only ever talk about guys in front of me.”

You knew it before it was out of your mouth that it was a lame excuse, and he did too because he scoffed, “Yeah, well. What else do you want to talk about?”

“That’s not fair,” you complained, frowning with embarrassment burning your chest.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in hearing my thoughts on women.”

He was looking away now, and you could hear a tinge of bitterness, and it pricked your heart. 

“Tae, that’s not true,” you insisted, reaching to put a hand on his arm so he’d look at you. Was that resentment? It hurt you deeply. “I want to hear your thoughts about everything,” you admitted with a shy smile, and his eyes softened. “And I wish we could talk about anything. I mean, look at what I just said.”

His lips twitched before he reached to catch your hand in his. He couldn’t see you sad, especially not about something like this. It could be that you had the wrong impression because he never bothered clarifying, and that was on him, too. The reason he was deeper in his feelings for you than he had ever been with anyone else was you saying things like those and treating him like that. It was the reason he had canceled his weekend plans to be with you last minute, it was why he wanted to hold your hand, and at long last, why he was done being just friends with you.

“Fair. You’re right,” he relented, turning on the couch to you more comfortably. “Sorry, that’s not why.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you braved through it. “Why, then? Why haven’t we ever discussed this before?”

It would have been so easy to deflect or act offended about his sexuality even being a topic of conversation, but he wasn’t doing that. He was putting the cards on the table tonight.

“I thought… You were so open-minded and welcomed me to join your friends and… I thought that if you knew, you’d treat me differently. Like just any other guy, and then we wouldn’t have become friends.”

“Tae…” You shook your head lightly, disappointment pulling the corners of your lips. He thought that of you?

“I also needed your help with that midterm project, so it was a life-or-death situation.”

He said it sheepishly, caressing your hand in his, and you chuckled, “That was so long ago.”

He nodded, lowering his eyes to your hands, and you kept a sigh from coming out. Maybe you were wrong to presume, but it was easily done when he blended in so easily with your group of girlfriends. Not because he wasn’t manly, but because he acted with grace and care and had no qualms holding your hand or showing affection when most guys wouldn’t be caught dead doing that to a friend.

You nodded. “I thought we became friends…”

“We did,” he agreed, though his voice was an octave lower.

“So can, or can I not, say I’m craving a good fucking?” You squeezed his hand with a grin on your face before bringing your beer to your lips again. You didn’t care about his sexuality, and you’d been friends for so long that you couldn’t read more into his actions, even if you wanted to delude yourself. 

You had hoped to lighten the mood and get back on topic, and you did. Sort of.

“You can always say it,” he mused, eying you with a darker look in his eyes once they locked with yours. “The question is: do you want to do something about it?”

“What can I do about it?” you asked with amusement before taking another swig.

“Fuck me.”

You would have choked if you hadn’t already swallowed. Instead, you gaped at him with eyes like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

“I’m down if that’s what you want.”

You blinked for a second, taking in his casual demeanor as he sat on your couch, totally chill. Then you grabbed a pillow and swatted him right across the face.

He jumped in place, checking if he hadn’t spilled anything over the couch or himself. “What?!”

“What what?” you asked, pulling the pillow and throwing it away on the floor so he’d check on himself comfortably.

“What was that for?!”

“I’m being serious, and you’re messing around!”

You couldn’t help your blushing cheeks, but you could keep things casual by taking a bit of inspiration from him.

You just didn’t expect him to fidget in his spot with a pout, “I’m not messing around, I’m serious.”

You grimaced, shaking your head in disbelief, not even able to contemplate such an outlandish thought.

But he stayed put looking at you, as laid-back as always, and you sobered up a little. That was him being serious.

“You… You’d—” You swallowed, annoyed by your hesitation. “You’d fuck me?”

“Fuck yeah.”

His reply was instantaneous, and he bit the inside of his bottom lip. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Or better yet, said it like that. It wasn’t like that was all he wanted to do. It wasn’t like he was proposing a one-night stand, for you to become fuck buddies, or— What was he even suggesting?

“Well,” you spoke up before he could chastise himself internally. He could only look at you with bated breath. “Even if you’re into women, I never thought you’d… be into me.”

It could have made his head spin, but instead, he sat more upright and frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m not all fit and pretty and shit.”

You were mumbling with your eyes on the floor, and he had to keep himself from scoffing. “Are you serious? There is nothing wrong with how you look.”

“No, just—” You glanced at him and instantly knew you wouldn’t be able to explain it properly. Or, better yet, that he’d never let you have your way. So instead, you huffed and rubbed your face, “Ugh, but… you always see me bare-faced and—”

“Fuck if that matters.” He shook his head, more irritated than you thought he’d be. “You know damn well none of that matters. You look good without makeup, your curves are crazy, and you have other attributes that top it all off.”

You couldn’t help laughing and pulling your legs under you as you got more comfy. The action got you closer to him, but you didn’t mind that. You were pretty convinced he was just messing around. “Like what? My wonderful personality?”

He smiled; he liked seeing you laughing and even more that you were leaning into him, with your arms and his pressed together. “I was going to say a significant chest size, but your personality is wonderful.” You burst out laughing, hiding in his shoulder, and although he liked you being relaxed and touchy with him, he wanted you to truly hear it. “I mean that.”

“Yeah, right!” You managed to say, still laughing. “Did we drink too much?”

You were grinning and shook your nearly empty bottle before putting it on the coffee table. You sat back, still leaning into him, and saw worry on his face for the first time. “Have you? If you have, then this conversation stops here.”

“I only had one bottle…”

“Me too.”

He raised it as if to imply it was that one and took it to his lips to finish it in one go. The gesture gave you a time-off from his gaze and allowed you to try to process what you two were talking about. You knew him well enough to gather he wasn’t pranking you, but you were unsure where that landed the two of you. You couldn’t possibly reevaluate your interactions, talks, and bond under this new light. That wouldn’t be justified, and regardless, you wanted his friendship. You wanted him in your life, by your side, being a part of everything, while you made sure to be a part of his everything.

He leaned to put his empty bottle next to yours before sitting back, “Would you fuck me?”

His tone was neutral, and suddenly, your stomach lurched. Fucking wasn’t the word on the top of your head, but that wasn’t what you two were talking about.

You scoffed. “I’m not fucking blind.”

“What does that matter? I’m asking you seriously.”

His gaze had all the certainty someone as handsome and amazing as he could have. Your instinct was to cover your face before your feelings could be easily read and groan, “Ughhh.”

“What?” He sat closer, facing you, though your legs were already touching.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know what?”

“Ughhhh!”

“Yes or no, come on!”

“Ughhhh!”

You couldn’t see how frustrated he was becoming. Why were you groaning into your palms instead of answering his very important question?

He called your name, you groaned, and he almost tried ripping your hands away. Instead, he brushed your arms. “Speak! Come on, use words! Why don’t you just say it? Yes or no? Must be a no if you’re—”

“Shut up!!” You exploded, revealing your wide, glistening eyes and pink cheeks. He was surprised. “Why?? Because it could ruin our friendship!”

“Saying if you’d fuck me or not will not ruin our friendship, even if it’s a no.”

Your face scrunched up in a mix between a plea and worry, but your lips remained sealed. He let his head fall back with a sigh, then faced you again.

“You know what might?” He paused, waiting for you to raise your eyes to him. That was all he needed to spill it out, “Saying that I want to give you the fucking you’re craving.”

You clenched around nothing, with a burn spreading down your chest. You couldn’t even blink away from his stare, locked as you were. Instead, you swallowed, and he continued as if spurred by your silence.

“Fuck you into a slobbering mess, and right now, I can think of like five different ways of doing it.”

You blinked, and that was the extent of your capabilities. He raked his fingers through his dark hair, and your only thought was how easy that would have been — you, a drooling mess in whatever one of those five ways. You only needed one, and it didn’t even need to be that complicated. He could start with his fingers in your mouth and—

“Starting by taking that stupid bra off and licking your n—”

You squealed and reached to cover his mouth with your hand. Your cheeks burned; thinking it and saying it were two very different things!

He grabbed your wrist and pulled it away, uncovering his mouth but choosing silence. And you realized that saying something could only make it worse. You had gotten on your knees and were almost straddling him at this point. He had stayed put and, funnily enough, your deep breaths were raising and lowering your chest closer to him. He seemed to notice this too because his eyes roamed over your legs, your shorts, your white top, your chest, your neck, and finally made it to your eyes. You didn’t just watch him attentively observing you, you felt it in the tingles tracing you under his gaze, as though you needed to feel him somehow.

The tension was climbing up your spine, reminding you to move your neck just a little to release it, making your long hair fall over your chest instead. The simple motion was enough to draw his eyes and tighten your nipples, and your underwear clung further to you. 

His eyes on yours had you shuddering, and his thumb rubbing the skin on your wrist only amplified it. “Just say the word. If that’s what you want, just say the word.”

The last drop was his velvety voice. That wonderful, trust-inducing, hypnotizing, delicious voice that you’d follow to the end of the world.

You were already nodding, and you still managed to hoarsely voice, “Yes.”

His eyes read your lips, but he didn’t move, and you faltered. You were unaware of how you were leaning into him, eyes fixed on his lips, absolutely bewitched. At that moment, all your hesitation melted away as you licked your lips. You were not beyond asking for a taste when he shortened the distance between you in the blink of an eye, making you gasp.

His big, warm hand instantly reached your jaw, supporting your head gently. His lips grazing yours with the utmost softness were what convinced you to close your eyes. Screw the shock trying to freeze you and steal this opportunity from you. You pressed his lips harder, removing any hesitation from what you were doing — you wanted this.

You wanted Taehyung’s kiss. You wanted to feed your curiosity, give sense to the fantasies sprouting in your head when you were lonely and heated, and learn what that forbidden fruit tasted like. 

Truthfully, you thought your lips were the only way to feel and taste him because, at any moment, it would all end. But as he kissed you back, matching your eager curiosity, you sighed. You succumbed to grabbing his dark hair in your fists, breathing in shakily when his hands framed your waist without an ounce of reluctance. You kept fearing you were acting crazy, that he would push you back and laugh this off as being drunk. It was why you couldn’t stop pressing him closer, sighing into his mouth every time his hands moved on your curves, licking against his tongue when it dared teasing you, and nibbling his bottom lip whenever he dared to stray.

You hardly noticed when he moved on the couch because his lips never left yours. And whether he’d pull you to his lap or lay you under him, it mattered little as long as he didn’t stop. All he did was kneel on the couch in front of you, kissing you harder. His fingertips touched the skin just beneath the hem of your top, and you brought them further up your sides under the fabric. You were breathing heavily just at the feel of his wide hands exploring the expanse of your stomach, but when he reached your bra, your breath hitched. His words were still burning inside you, making you clench at the thought.

You opened your eyes and found him looking at you, puffy lips bruising yours as he sneaked his fingertips under the bra, digging gently into the supple skin. His tongue peeked, licking your lips slowly in a tease as his thumbs brushed your hard nipples over the fabric, and you groaned.

You didn’t care anymore; you were irrational. Yes, you had covered his mouth out of embarrassment before — the embarrassment of how much you wanted him to do what he was saying, and now he would. You were a train about to derail, and nothing could stop you.

His dark eyes were still locked with yours as you squirmed to unclasp your bra at your back, trying to get rid of it. As soon as you did and the fabric no longer protected you, he leaned down and licked through your white top, finding a nipple all too easily. You squirmed but pressed his head to your chest, ignoring the bra almost around your neck, looking to feel exactly what he wanted to do to you.

He, on the other hand, found the bra obstructing the view of your face contorting in pleasure annoying and got rid of it quickly by passing one of the strips down your arm. You were so immersed in gripping his hair and feeling him lick and pinch your nipples that you didn’t even notice. Only when he caught your lips again, grabbing and squeezing both breasts hungrily, did you notice there was no bra anymore, only your moan inside his mouth. He was devouring your whimpers, drinking every sigh as you enjoyed his hands on you, unable to hide it.

His lips trailed down your jaw and neck, and you squirmed, disliking what you thought was a growing distance between you two. Instead, it made you realize that he had kneeled on the floor in front of you and that his hands were squeezing your sides before dragging your top up. His open-mouth kisses between your breasts gave you goosebumps, making you eager to roll your hips against him, but it was when his hands cupped your breasts and squeezed them to his face that you moaned, melting between your legs.

“Tae,” you breathed a moan, half in wonder, half in a plea. You wanted him to have you like you never wanted anything else before.

His name on your lips wantonly like that made his dark eyes flick to yours in what you believed was a line being crossed. He pulled the top above your head, parting from your chest only the time needed for this, before finally licking and biting your nipples, squeezing and groping whatever his mouth couldn’t catch. Your moans were shooting pure desire through his veins, especially as you let your head fall back to enjoy. Your nails were holding onto his shirt by his shoulders, not trying to stop him as he traced your hips and played with the hem of your shorts, but quite simply letting his mouth work you up.

You squirmed beneath him to let him drag your clothes off and barely contained a squeal at his mouth trailing lower. You were feverish, wet, hot, absolutely derailed not just with the view but with the anticipation. This was why you almost keened when, feeling him kiss your legs down to your knees, you looked down. Your panties were still on, and he was pecking your skin, feeling the smoothness of your legs with his hands before stopping. His eyes fixed on yours, glistening with just as much desire, but then his eyebrows twitched.

You were already exposed, winded, flushed, dazed, and there was only one thing you wanted. “Are you going to eat me out?”

“If you let me.”

“Please,” you breathed, raising your knees to your chest in an offering.

The corners of his mouth curved as though you had promised him candy, and he didn’t hesitate to lean in. His nose rubbed at your clothed center, and just him breathing deeply before nuzzling the skin around your panties made you hold in a shaky sigh. You would fall apart so easily if he kept teasing you like that. Your legs were trembling, you could barely take in enough oxygen, and then he pressed his lips to you. A quiet groan stayed inside your chest as though the very sound could distract you from his kiss. It was both breathtaking and short of a tease to feel him pressing, grazing his lips across your covered slit, nuzzling your core to maddening effects. You couldn’t help your squirm or your hand shooting to his head with your request, and he obliged.

As though he was done with waiting, the same as you, he pulled the fabric aside and dove in. His groan was subtle, covering you with goosebumps right before you lost all sense and fell back. You didn’t know if it was the anticipation, the fantasy becoming reality, or the sheer hunger, but it floored you. His hands pressed your legs harder, almost as if he couldn’t let you get away, and he groaned. You felt it deep inside you, right as his tongue collected your slick on his way to your clit. He licked over it in waves, driving you to squeeze your eyes shut, barely afloat. You bucked your hips to increase the friction, and he pressed his face harder, letting you feel the tip of his nose, tongue, and lips in open-mouthed kisses. 

But whenever you thought the searing burn would snap your coil and you would peak, he drew back. You didn’t realize your push and pull, lulling yourself to his rhythm, until a louder whimper of yours drew him to cup your ass and raise you to his mouth. He latched on, keeping a steel rhythm on your clit that was impossible to deny, regardless of how much you tried to writhe and keen. Your core burned with how tense you were, a sensation so consuming that you stopped breathing. You wanted the moment it sparked and covered you ablaze, and it did.

You melted from that point on, trembling and moaning so hard that you lost touch as you came. Taehyung’s mouth was latched to your core, lavishly mouthing you as you wiggled and squirmed, grabbing onto his hair so crudely, it probably hurt him. Yet he groaned, sucked and breathed you in, and you wanted it even harder. Your peak dissolved despite your wishes, and although you had to pull him away so he wouldn’t hurt you, the vision that met you was shattering.

The sight of him covered in your cum was like nothing you had imagined, quite simply because it was real. He was really kneeling between your legs, kissing your inner thighs, with his hair tucked in your grasp. Your legs were still trembling as you panted, and you wanted only to relax into the pillows with your much-sought release. Yet in an instant, you realized that was not what you wanted after all.

You pulled him to you as you lowered your legs to give him space, wrapping them around his waist. He let you, almost caught off balance, but you left no margin for errors. You grabbed onto his shirt for good measure and crashed his mouth to yours, kissing him with as much hunger as you could muster in your dazed, satisfied haze. You didn’t want to leave it there, and if licking your cum out of his mouth didn’t convey this, then you didn’t know what did.

Taehyung kissed you back, smiling almost tenderly before scrunching up his nose at your tongue tickling him. Yet, despite your glued cores, he wasn’t trying anything else. He wasn’t pushing or exploring you anymore, and you would have cowered if it wasn’t for the bulge pressed to you.

You rolled over him, getting him to sit on the couch before pulling away to kneel between his legs. No way he could eat you like that if he didn’t like it or was turned on, and you weren’t over your curiosity. You wouldn’t stop until you had hit all stops.

“I always wondered,” you started, reaching your hands inside his shirt so you could scratch down his chest. “What it would be like for you to touch me.” You licked your lips as he smiled. “To touch you,” you mused, reaching his flat stomach. “For you to want me.” Your hands cupped the bulge in his pants, and you shuddered at the harness twitching back. “Like I want you.”

You were brimming with desire and knew he was, too, when he reached to grab your hair and crash your mouths together. To your surprise, he didn’t pull or push you in one direction or the other; it was as though he simply wanted to kiss you. If anything, he only hardened under your hand.

You couldn’t think about what that meant, only that you wanted to continue and fulfill all your dreams tonight. You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, and he helped you get them and the boxers off. Your chin almost fell in awe at the imposing cock before you, so hard and stiff it was pointing at you. So close to your face, it could only have been an invitation.

You touched it tentatively, feeling the soft, warm skin covering lengthy veins from base to top. Its puffy pink tip was the perfect size for you to lick, and you did. There was usually an order to these things, but not tonight. He looked pretty and hungry, and you wanted to eat him too.

Your tongue only took a taste before you sank your mouth on him. There was no way you could take him whole, as he was already poking the back of your throat, but it didn’t matter. You were there for the experience, for his taste, for that fucked out look on his face as he closed his eyes and let his jaw slack. Taehyung was fucking gorgeous, like the peak of human perfection, and it turned out it was even better when his cock was stuffing your mouth.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Your plans escaped your mind; all that mattered was bobbing your head, lapping your tongue, sucking him, and doing all that with your eyes fixed on his expression. It was the sweetest part of all — he liked it. He was breathing heavily, biting his bottom lip, blushing, and finally fluttering his eyes open. They were like candy; all his strength and power surrendered to your mouth, and you drooled. You finally closed your eyes and let your head fall as deep as you could take him, just to keep him there while you braced yourself for what you wanted.

You pulled away, letting him breathe a groan before facing him. “Said you’d fuck me.”

He blinked, almost stupefied, and you got up from your knees. You moved swiftly to the hallway to search his jacket for what you were looking for, and when you turned around, you almost stumbled. 

Physical: 100 was still on the TV with the contestants showing off their physique, and yet they didn’t even come close to that view. Taehyung was tall, towering over your entire living room as he stood there, naked, hard, with dark, glistening eyes set on you. Not even his disheveled hair or the pants at the bottom of his feet made him look any less heavenly. That view was perfect, and you didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it.

Instead, you waved the condom you had just found, and he nodded, getting rid of the clothes by his ankles in the time it took you to reach him. The moment your hands were cupping his cheeks, he was already pulling you by the waist, eager to hold you and kiss you. He didn't hesitate to feel your curves, reaching your ass to pull you to him, and you molded yourself to him, arching your back into him.

You were dizzy with his attention, with his big hand squeezing your ass while the other gripped your hair to keep you in his kiss. But when he meant to sit down, you pulled him to stay put. You grinned, giving him the condom, then got on the couch on all fours.

You didn't see his surprise, only felt a soothing hand on your ass down your leg. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” you sighed.

It wasn't much of a logical thought, but the idea was to have him in as many positions as you had fantasized. You doubted you'd get far — as soon as he was inside you, all ideas would evaporate — but doggy was good to start. You wanted him raw and deep, reaching places inside you no one could. Of course, you couldn’t have him raw, but if he fucked you without holding back, you'd already consider that a win.

Taehyung got on one knee on the couch behind you after covering himself and eyed you. You were vulnerable like that, with your unblemished back arching and long hair falling over your shoulders. He’d like you in any position, but he couldn’t help pursing his lips. He touched your soft skin again, and you wiggled your ass for him, and although he bit it playfully just to make you jump and chuckle, he still second-guessed it.

It felt impersonal. In all of his dreams of you, he rarely pictured being with you like this without at least a mirror so he could see you, so you two could communicate. He wanted to be with you, to feel and watch you writhe in pleasure, in the ways he could make you feel, not to turn your face away so he could use you. If anything, your face was what made it special.

You wiggled your ass again with an impatient sigh, and this time you pleaded, “Please, Tae.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw his expression softening before he got behind you. The feel of his cock brushing your folds had you shaking, but it was his nails scratching down your spine that did it. You fell back on him, unwilling to wait for him, and he let you, groaning. He helped your hips as you wiggled and searched to get him deeper, and as you did, you both sighed.

You could feel him stretching you despite your previous orgasm, and you smiled. In another circumstance, you’d just enjoy the show without thinking much of it, but just the fact that it was Taehyung turned you on again. And when he started moving, he delivered.

It wasn’t just his hips smacking yours, the crown of his cock teasing your cervix and making you groan and curl your nails on the couch armrest. It was the way he held your waist, leaned over you to peck over your spine, and responded to every reaction of yours. You mewled and tried fucking into him? He fucked you harder, adjusting the angle so you’d keen mindlessly. You moaned and hid in the pillows, feeling so tense you didn’t know your name? He reeled back, slowing down his thrusts to let you breathe. You whimpered and called his name? He was instantly all over you, kissing your neck near your ear, asking if you were okay without ever stopping giving you what you wanted.

You looked over your shoulder, meeting his eyes as he kissed your skin there, and you thought that was impossible. You knew Taehyung was attentive, but that bordered on perfection, and you didn't know how to deal with that.

“Harder,” you whispered, glistening eyes boring into his.

“Are you sure?”

You grinned. “Said you’d leave me a slobbering mess.”

“You sure look like it,” he teased, and you laughed. You knew you were drooling onto the couch, but you also knew he was holding back.

“Give everything to me.” You sighed, and your lightness earned you a nod.

The second he pulled away, you wondered if you knew what you asked for, and the second he showed you, you knew you did. He grabbed your hair in a fist to keep your back arched, and your mind melted. The way he rutted into you, holding your waist so you’d stay in position to take every thrust, only made you whimper and moan louder. He felt so good it was unbearable; how did he reach deeper and harder when you thought you were at your limit? His groans, his scent, his nails piercing your skin to hold you in place; you could barely function in the frenzy.

You knew you were tightening because his focus was faltering, but when he stopped, staying buried deep inside you, you were worried. 

“Tae?” you asked, trying to swallow the dizziness and figure out why that stairway to heaven had suddenly halted.

“I can’t—” His voice was a whisper as he tried regaining his breath. “I’ll cum.”

Your eyebrows jumped, and you almost smiled, but you bit your lip to keep it in. “How’s that?”

He was still squishing your flesh in his hands, but he took one hand to brush his sweaty hair out of his eyes, “You’re so tight and warm and—” You clenched involuntarily, and he grabbed and squeezed your ass again. “You fucking tease.”

You stifled a laugh and could swear he’d spank you, but instead, he leaned over you and bit your shoulder. You finally laughed. “Let me ride you.”

He hummed, and instead of answering, he let you take the brunt of his weight as he held your hips. You groaned with the effort, still shuddering at his lips tracing your cheeks to your neck, but then you moaned lavishly. He was pressing himself slowly to you, reaching inside you and twitching, and you thought you’d be too desensitized, but it was the opposite. Your core hugged him, sucking him in with the subtle rolls of your hips, and he groaned into your ear, making you flutter even harder. It was as though he couldn’t help himself, ensuing that small push and pull, enough to get you both crazy.

But you insisted, “Tae.”

And he was off of you in a second. He sat down and helped you turn around and straddle him. You were flushed and covered in sweat, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were so wet you were sliding, and he guided your hips as you grabbed his cock. Just looking at him beneath you, you knew it would feel amazing, but something about staring into his eyes as you sank on him rewired your priorities. Instead of looking to give a show or tease him, you let your chin drop the same as his and reached to hold his head in place. Your nails grazed his skin as you gripped his hair by the back of the nape and rolled your lips to feel him inside you as deeply as possible. His eyebrows knitted as he looked down, and you burned under his gaze, wanting nothing more than for him to feel as good as you did. And by the way that his fingers were digging into your hips and his droopy eyes came back to yours, you knew he did. You knew that every jerk of your hips stole his breath, too, squeezed his tip in your smooth walls, and ground on him in a way that made you hover even though you were sinking.

Your fingers curled around his hair. “I can’t hold— I’ll come—”

If he was surprised at how easily you fell apart, he didn’t let on. You searched for his kiss right before your orgasm swept you away, and he held you, kissing you and receiving your deep moans in his mouth as though it were praise.

You were dizzy when you came down and held onto his shoulders as he grabbed you to lay over you on the couch. A euphoric giggle almost burst out as he pecked and nuzzled every inch of your face — you could swear you were with Taehyung, but that wasn’t—

“Can I finish?” he whispered against your mouth, and you opened your eyes.

Taehyung was really holding you in his arms, balls deep inside you, smiling with a hint of amusement.

You nodded, and he hummed. “Sure you had your fill?”

You shuddered, aware of the state of things. No.

You’d never have a proper fill because you didn’t want it to end. But as reality would have it, Taehyung was just fucking you. Just like you asked.

So you nodded and kissed him, refusing to let those feelings surface right now. You started, you’d finish. The final destination was just ahead; you had to know what he felt like when he came deep inside you.

He kissed you back and restarted the sweet movement of his hips, and you sighed. He held your legs high so you could wrap them around him and grabbed onto your hair to keep your chin up. You could barely breathe without a moan, and looking into his eyes while he fucked you made it all the harder. His lips were parted for soft sighs, and you squirmed under him, adjusting your hips. It was enough for him to falter and let you hide in his chest. You breathed him in, biting down on the soft flesh out of sheer frustration. He felt so good you could lose yourself again, but that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t yours.

Still, his love felt like heaven. So when he pulled your head up again to face him, you did. You moaned your pleasure so he’d know how amazing he felt, scratched him closer, and looked into his eyes just like he wanted. In an instant, he groaned, and his hips faltered. He crashed into you, kissing you between stifled moans before he nuzzled your neck and stilled.

You hugged him to you with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths. He was breathing down your neck, recovering, and you matched him, feeling deeply every time your nose picked up a mix of his cologne with the sex scent still in the air. For as long as that lasted, you were free of thoughts and worries.

But then he got up, pulling out of you to get rid of the condom. And although he laid back down next to you, pulling you into his arms with a sweet smile, the spell had been broken. 

You started trembling, and he noticed. He took your fingertips to his lips to kiss them, ready to ask you cheekily if he had given you more than you bargained for when you sniffled.

His heart fell through; he looked at you, and you tried to hide in his chest.

He brushed your hair behind your ear. “Hey.”

You couldn’t face him; your eyes stayed shut so you wouldn’t cry.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice was low and laced with worry, and your heart hurt even more. You didn’t want him to worry; he was just doing what he said he would. He just had no idea how you felt.

You shouldn’t have done this. You were terrified to lose him. Nothing was worth that.

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship,” you managed to say before a sob shook you. “You’re my best friend.”

Taehyung almost smiled; if he had only heard those words, he would have promised you that nothing was lost. That you two together never spelled just friends in his mind, and that he wanted so much more than that. 

But he could feel you and see you: the lines on your face that spelled the unshed tears, the way you were trembling in his arms, and your refusal to face him.

His heart sank. A storm of questions raged inside his mind — was it him, was it the sex, did he hurt you, was it not what you expected, did you never want this to happen, did you regret it — but he asked none of it. The more you tried to stay put and not cry, the sadder and more certain he became that you were distressed. That you wanted him just as a friend and that nothing he had done had convinced you otherwise.

You opened your tearful eyes. “I don’t want things to change.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, a lopsided smile showing instead. He couldn’t help eying your lips and regret with his whole heart not having stolen one last kiss to remember you by, to settle his heart, but there was nothing to do about it. Instead, he looked up at your teary gaze and brushed your cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

[Part 2]

[tanpl-if]

In the summer of 1986 you get a letter informing you of your mother's death.

The first and only letter you get in ten years since you left your hometown.

You stand in the middle of the old, tiny room that you can barely afford to rent and read it over and over again until the buzz at the back of your head quiets down. Until your hands stop shaking.

You think of what it means for you.

I hope you arrive soon. You know Marrowbone will always have a place for you.

The words spin in your head and you think of Marrowbone then—a secret, lonely place, standing at the edge of everything, surrounded by forests and fields, barely acknowledged on the maps.

But it is home.

And whether you like it or not, you are coming back.

There are no people left is an 18+ horror inerractive fiction game for language, themes and potential explicit content

• choose between 3 preset personalities for MC that will open different paths in the story

• reconnect with your old friends and make new connections

• explore your hometown

• remember why you left

DEMO: (16.01.25)

The Childhood Friend - Olya - Aside from working the bar left to her care by her parents, she isn't up to much of anything, the days passing by her seamlessly. You watch her work - pale fingers gripping the glass she is cleaning a bit too tight, lips pressed into a frown - and think how much she has changed since you last saw her.

She looks older. More tired too, but more than anything angry. With life perhaps. With you - for sure. The tension hangs between you, threads through every conversation, follows with every touch.

A decade of silence will do that, you think, almost guilty. You wonder if there was ever a chance of putting the fragile pieces back into place.

You wonder if the only thing left for you is to mourn.

The Neighbour - Timur - Head held low, he keeps to himself most of the time. You remember him a sickly thing - his parents never letting him out to play, hiding him away in fear for his poor health. You remember sneaking into his room - muted laughter and hushed whispers, when you kept him company.

The memories taste bitter now, after all those years.

He seems more shut off now, and as much as you expected him to forget you, you're even more surprised when he gives you the same smile that reminds you of a sweet little boy that used to be your neighbor.

In the midst of half-forgotten faces and unwelcome memories, he still feels the same as when you were kids.

You're not sure if it brings you comfort or not.

The Doctor - He does his work well, and that's what matters, the doctor says, not in the most friendly fashion.

His face is lined with age, gray temples vivid among the black, as he runs his fingers through his hair, looking at another report with pursed lips and tired eyes.

You don't remember seeing him before, a hard thing to achieve for one of the few doctors of Marrowbone - a surprise and a revelation at the same time.

You know he is local, and your mind burns with questions. You can't imagine anyone in their right mind coming back here if they ever managed to leave - not by choice anyway - but you hold your tongue. It's not your place to intrude.

And it's definitely not your place to judge.

The Gravekeeper - As frail as she appears to be, she manages to be just as cheerful.

The keeper's granddaughter spends her days taking care of the dead - keeping them company, she says - the hem of her dress brushing against gray stone, as she moves around, steps light.

She is all sweet smiles when she talks to you, dimples catching your eye. And though you never saw her before, there is Marrowbone etched into her in a way you can't explain - dark eyes and a knowing pull of her lips - there is no doubt she has always been a part of this town.

The Widow - There is a rumor about her, almost a tale, nurtured by years of boredom from the residents of small town - not much to do in Marrowbone aside from gossiping about your neighbors - about a woman on the hill, lonesome in her manor, a number of husbands lying dead in the small graveyard in front of her home. About a woman always wearing black, forever in mourning. Some believe her cursed, though a more cynical crowd would call her much meaner names - a gold-digger with an exceptional streak of luck.

A witch.

You see her there, standing at the top of the hill - her dress swaying in the wind, black veil covering her face. And though you can't make out a single detail behind it, somehow you know - her eyes are on you.

Sonya - Your mother. You don't know what happened to her.

asks and scenarios are welcome!

tags: @interact-if

[cheriecoke]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing. 

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago. 

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on. 

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.  

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you. 

“You got here faster than I thought.” 

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower. 

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.” 

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him. 

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t. 

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. 

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.” 

“Well, at least you remember that.” 

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.” 

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight. 

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white. 

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?” 

“Himeno.” 

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.” 

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small. 

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?” 

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young. 

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.” 

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord. 

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had. 

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you. 

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks. 

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?” 

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs. 

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time. 

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same. 

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.” 

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.” 

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest. 

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him. 

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?” 

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once. 

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.” 

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead. 

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips. 

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it. 

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game. 

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed. 

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.” 

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin. 

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.” 

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.” 

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him. 

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers. 

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock. 

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you. 

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.” 

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed. 

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki. 

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.” 

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely. 

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?” 

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.” 

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.” 

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt. 

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.” 

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.” 

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go. 

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way. 

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips. 

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.” 

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all. 

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him. 

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.” 

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress. 

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress. 

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall. 

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more. 

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face. 

You sigh, and flip back on your side. 

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes. 

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them. 

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.” 

“You sound like Himeno.” 

“Do I?” 

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before. 

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think. 

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.” 

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore. 

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed. 

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him. 

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…” 

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.” 

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.” 

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him. 

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.” 

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on. 

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home. 

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.” 

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.” 

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely. 

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.” 

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.” 

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing. 

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy. 

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long. 

“I’m tired.” 

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?” 

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades. 

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay. 

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to. 

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Sweet Tasting

SugarMommy!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Not often does Wanda indulge in alcoholic beverages. So once in a while she'll pour herself a glass of red wine to sooth her nerves. A sweet flavor, none too bitter. She never finishes the glass. She'll nurse the drink, holding it in her hand for decoration, taking ridiculously small sips that'll amount to one regular size sip.

Wanda enjoys a glass of wine for the heat to thrum through her body, ridding her nerves. Not even a quarter of her wine has been drunk and she's done with it. She's relaxed. She's content. She's hungry. And who else could satisfy her growing desires?

Raspberry, you thought to yourself as her tongue rubs against yours, tastes like raspberry.

One thing Wanda loves to indulge on is you.

She's hovering above you, knees on either side of your hips, silky brown curly hair falling over her shoulders. The kiss you two share is passionate. Hungry. She swallows every noise you make, her hips grinding against yours instinctively. Breathes mingling together. Teeth clacking. You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer, the gap between your bodies no longer evident.

Wanda moans into your mouth, her tongue exploring your wet cavern. You whimper as she sucks your tongue into her mouth and she smirks at your delicious whimpers. She adores hearing your lewd sounds. Can't get enough of it.

Eventually she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting her tongue to yours.

You're left breathless from the passionate make out session. Pussy soaking wet. Mind spinning. Chest heaving.

Wanda drinks in the sight of your state, tongue slowly licking her swollen lips. She notes the way you quiver, finding she wants you to squirm. She sits on your stomach, green eyes brewing in desire. She traces a delicate finger over the frame of your face and down your neck, directly above your pulse.

You gulp, shuddering out a breath. "M-Mommy," you pant, shivering from the light touches of her finger. "I'm so hot," you whine.

She quirks a perfectly trimmed brow up, the corners of her lips twitching. "Are you?" she whispers, both hands squeezing your breasts. She rubs her thumbs over your nipples, the sensation sending fire throughout your veins. "Want me to take care of you?"

You nod, shifting beneath her.

"P-Please," you say so prettily that she's on your cunt in seconds. You barely had enough time to get your pants off before she's pushing the fabric of your panties aside and licking a stripe up your soaking folds, the tip of her tongue meeting your throbbing clit.

Your legs up in the air, pants bundled at you knees, toes curling the moment Wanda wraps her lips around your bundle of nerves and sucks. You squeal, a fountain of fluids gushing from your pulsing slit. Gummy walls clench around nothing in pure desperation, aching for Wanda's tongue. You keep your arms around your thighs, nails digging into your flesh.

"Oh, mommy!" you cry out, pussy squirming against her mouth. She mouths at your heat, wet noises emitting from her actions. "F-Feels so good!" She spreads your lips apart to expose your fluttering slit. Arousal spills from your weeping cunt. Your hole quivers and she watches as sweet nectar gushes out of you, giving away how aroused you are.

A noise similar to a purr rumbles out of her, lips curving into a smirk. Wanda loves how sensitive you are to her touches. She's able to easily get you to whimper and writhe, pussy desperate for her. She loves that only she can get you this way. Acting pathetic and desperate and needy for her.

Out of shyness, you cover yourself with your hand.

Wanda raises a brow at that and flicks her wrist, eyes glowing crimson and wisps of red wrapping around your wrists to pin above your head.

"Mommy is admiring her meal," she chides, lightly slapping your ass. She spreads your pussy open again, biting down on her lip from your vast amount of wetness. Clearly you loved being put in your place. "Do that again, and mommy will have no choice but to punish you. Do I make myself clear?"

You nod your head, squirming against your restraints. "Yes, mommy. I won't do that again."

"Mm, that's mommy's good girl."

Wanda buries her face deep into your velvet heat, tongue slithering into your hole and licking at your walls. You arch your back, letting out a scream of pleasure. Liquid fire courses through your veins, your stomach a pit of fire. You writhe against the mattress, tugging at the restraints, sobbing out your moans. She pumps her tongue in and out of your sloppy pussy, wet suctioning noises emitting from your throbbing cunt.

"Mommy! Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh, yes, eat my pussy, mommy!" you cry out, an onslaught of lewd moans spilling from your lips. She groans against your cunt, shaking her head back and forth and sloppily sucks on your lips, lapping over your folds before torturing your clit.

"Don't stop! Oh, fuuck! Don't stop mommy!"

Wanda isn't sure she'll be able to stop. Even when she brings forth an orgasm, she's continuing to suck and lick your pussy, fingers rubbing your clit. She'll either fuck you with her tongue or three fingers, your sobbing moans encouraging her on.

Fuck, you're deliciously wet.

Wanda's chin and lips are coated in your fluids. Your sweet nectar dribbles down her chin and down her neck, soaking the tank top she's wearing.

"Taste so good," Wanda moans, pressing kisses all over your cunt. "Mmm, mommy wants more. Want mommy to give you more?"

You're a mess. Eyes rolled to the back of your head. Mouth parted to let out gasps and moans. Body trembling. But you hear Wanda asking you and you lift your head up, giving her pleading eyes.

"Yes, mommy, give me more. Please. I'm so wet for you."

Wanda smiles, licking her lips hungrily.

"Such a good girl for mommy."

[godihatethiswebsite]

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses. 

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn. 

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment. 

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on. 

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy. 

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat. 

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you. 

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle. 

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin. 

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach. 

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights. 

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?! 

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care. 

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!” 

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time. 

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them. 

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride. 

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down. 

Mating bites. A bonded omega. 

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars. 

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate. 

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave. 

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life. 

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche. 

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat. 

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest. 

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.  

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath. 

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done. 

A mating bite was binding. 

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed. 

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

>> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[httpiastri]

take me back to monaco – pa17

the one where you celebrate your boyfriend taking the lead of the championship.

genre: smut

pairing: paul aron x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!!), oral (reader giving), all other typical smut stuff

author's note: a piece for all of us who wish we were still in monaco <33 so so delayed, im sorry, but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it too!! 💗 (and i knowww they dont have drivers rooms in f2 but... just let me have this okay...)

18+ content below, minors dni!

paul is practically glowing when he makes it down from the podium and into the hitech garage where you're standing. he gives ralf and karl another hug each, before his eyes land on you – and then, he's standing in front of you and pulling you into his embrace in no time.

he lifts you into the air and twirls you around, sweaty forehead pressed into the side of your neck, but you don't mind even the slightest. "championship leader, huh?" you ask when he sets you down on the ground, smiling into the kiss he presses to your lips.

"finally," he answers, cocky as ever, pulling you in for another hug.

his bottle of podium champagne is almost empty when he hands it to you and you can't help but laugh at the guilty smile forming on his lips. his eyes follow the way you lift the bottle to your mouth, adoring the grimace you pull at the bitter taste. he gladly takes the bottle from you when you offer it back, emptying its last contents in his own mouth before placing it on some counter next to you.

"come on," he says, hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you away with him as he starts moving through the garage. you don't even have time to ask what's going on – not that you want to, anyway. a championship leader should never be questioned.

the kisses he presses on your lips are hungry from the second he closes the door to his driver's room behind you. his hands waste no time finding your hips, pulling your crotch flush against his. you can't help but gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his hard-on poking into your thigh. "already?" you ask, eyebrows raised when you pull away from him.

he leans forward to seal your lips again, not wanting to be away from you for even a second. "been thinking about you all race," he lets out, trailing a series of hot, wet kisses down your throat. his teeth slightly graze your sensitive skin and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access.

"and yet, you did so well," you tell him around a hum. "how do you want to celebrate this?"

"i think you know." his voice sends vibrations along your skin. he pulls away, his darkened eyes staring down at you as he places a hand right under your jaw, thumb stroking up and down your throat. "get down on your knees for me, love."

he can tell from your kisses that you're just as needy as him; the way your lips part for his tongue instantly is a dead giveaway, along with the string of whines that slip into his mouth when his thumb presses down harder on your throat. your hands on his shoulders guide him to walk until his back meets a wall, forcing him up against it. without breaking the kiss, you hastily pull down the zipper of his suit, helping him pull his arms free before letting the suit hang by his shoulders.

as much as you love how good he looks in his white fireproof shirt, it covers way too much of his skin, so it needs to come off, too.

you need his help to pull it off his body, the sweaty and champagne-soaked material sticking to his skin like glue. it's a big hassle, but it's all worth it when you hear his sweet laughter as he, too, struggles with his stripping. once your eyes meet the sight of his muscular upper body, you can't hold back from leaning in to press your lips along it. the urgency of it all has his stomach twisting in anticipation, your touch leaving his head spinning.

his skin is sticky in the best kind of way, the sweat-salty and champagne-bitter taste filling your senses instantly. your fingers grasp at his sides as you move further down, your tongue swiping along the creases of his abs, but his hand reaches for your cheek just as you begin kneeling down. "hey, wait a second."

when you blink up at him, his expression is much softer than you'd expected; his gaze is full of adoration, warmth, love. "what's wrong?"

he pauses for a second before shaking his head. "nothing," he says. "i just... wanted to see your pretty face."

"you..." a tiny blush creeps onto your face, though you're sure you can blame it on the heat of the situation. "you're so silly..."

"silly, maybe. but i'm also the luckiest man in the world."

your heart swells in your chest at his words, the situation suddenly growing much more intimate than you'd expected. you and paul are no newbies to a quickie on a race weekend, but it usually never goes quite like this. these words of affection and these love-filled eye contacts are reserved for late-night lovemaking sessions in his apartment or back at the hotel.

not that you mind, of course.

"just... you looking up at me like this..." you try to turn your head away, cheeks heating up at his words, but paul's hand on your face tilts you back. "knowing that you're all mine..."

"all yours."

you seal your words with a few kisses along the hemline of his boxers, before tugging it down just a little bit. then, one of your hands reaches into them, pulling out his dick and letting it spring up against his stomach.

you take him in your hands, moving them up and down along him a few times, and paul groans immediately. when you shoot him a glance, he's thrown his head back, lips slightly parted, and the sight is almost too good to tear your gaze away from. you look down at the other pretty thing, leaning in to press two kisses along one side of his length, then two kisses to the other side, before sealing it with a peck to his tip.

five kisses for five podiums.

your thumb begins to rub circles around his tip, smearing out his precum as your mouth begins to work with little licks up the underside of him. as your lips wrap around him and you finally take him in, he lets out your name in the form of a sigh, his heart pounding hastily against his ribs. a hand slips into your hair, fingers getting lost in your locks and nails slightly grazing your scalp as you take as much of him as you can.

"god, you're..." he says, voice thick and rough as if it takes all his effort not to let the moan in his upper chest escape. "so good..."

when he hits the back of your throat, it takes a few moments for him to remember how to breathe, his head empty except for the thought of you. he looks down at you with a reverent, almost worshipping look in his eyes. he just can't stop staring, the sight of your red cheeks and your lips around his dick making him unable to stop his hips from bucking a little. you can tell he's holding back, trying not to give in and push into you, but he lets out a content sigh once you start moving.

his breaths grow quicker and needier when you pick up the pace, a shiver shooting down his spine as he feels your tongue swirling around him. his fingers tangle in your hair, grip harder and helping guide you ever so slightly, and you blink up at him almost instinctively.

you love seeing him like this; almost vulnerable, as he gives himself up to you completely, fully at your mercy. his adam's apple bobs before he lets out a deep, guttural moan. you hum at the sight, which causes him to let out a babbling mess of your name and a bunch of swearwords, the hand in your hair suddenly pulling you back.

a few strings of saliva connect you to his length when he holds you back, the confused look in your eyes, along with your parted lips, making his heart flutter. his hand moves from your scalp down to your cheek, urging you up to stand again. "i want to... come inside you..." he explains, still breathless. "is that okay?"

"anything for you," you assure him, eyes softening as they see the gentle smile on his lips.

paul's hands find your hips and spin you both around, your breath hitching when he pushes you up against the wall. his lips are back on your neck in just a second, his hands trailing down your body and reaching under your skirt. one hand settles on the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking up and down the skin, as the other pulls your panties to the side to allow him to run a finger along your folds. "so wet already?" he asks, faux innocence in his voice. "just from sucking me off?"

your hands land on his shoulders for stability when his fingers fill you up, eyes fluttering closed as he spreads and curls them. it doesn't take long for him to deem you stretched out enough, pulling out and wiping your wetness all over his cock. you drape your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead on his shoulder once he rubs his tip against your core, before slowly slipping into you.

a curse falls from your lips, a painful yet perfect stretch spreading through you. "feels like... your ego isn't the only thing that grew from that podium..." you gasp, feeling him push in a little deeper.

paul lets out a wholehearted chuckle, letting one of his hands reach up to bring your face off his skin and press a quick kiss to your forehead as you adjust to him. "taking that as a compliment," he mumbles, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face with a tender caress. he keeps still for a few moments to let you adjust, before starting his gentle thrusts.

one of his hands holds you up against the wall by your waist beneath your dress, while the other one has a firm grip on your ass. you use your last bits of energy to jump up just a little, hanging both of your legs around his hips. not long later, he picks up the pace, way too needy to go slow right now.

"you feel-" he starts, moving his hand from your waist to where your body meets his, fingers finding your clit with ease. "so- so good..." he alternates circles with little flicks of your bud, and you can't help the sting of whines that fall from your lips. "god, you have to stay quiet, unless... you want my entire team to hear..."

just the thought of any hitech staff – or, much worse, ralf or karl – hearing you makes something boil in the pit of your stomach, your insides involuntarily clenching around paul. you hide your face in his bare chest, letting out a few muffled sounds when he buries himself deeper and deeper into you. it's all getting too much, his pinches and vibrations against your clit in combination with him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump threatening to push you over the cliff at any second. "fuck- i'm going to-"

he feels your breasts press into his chest as you arch your back into him, your walls tightening around him when your orgasm washes over you. you throw your head back against the wall as you try to catch your breath, your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. the feeling of your pulsating insides is just way too good, and the moan he lets out when he climaxes is way too loud – but he really doesn't care right now.

he spills his load into you, his hold on your underside trembling when he feels you contract around him one last time. he feels the mixture of his cum and yours dripping out from between you, and he knows already that the cleanup is going to be a mess – but that's just another thing he simply couldn't give a fuck about.

when he finally recovers the energy to open his eyes and look at you, his heart clenches at the sight of your messy hair and dazy expression. "what a day, huh?" he asks with a chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "monaco is amazing."

a dismissive sound vibrates from the back of your throat. "it's not monaco. it's all you, baby."

[rachalixie]

what stray kids' kisses taste like.

bang chan's kisses taste like warm tobacco and vanilla, a hint of sweetness and smoky sultry ash combining to make a swirl of campfire smoke in your mouth. his teeth are as sharp as the flames as they sink into your bottom lip, soothed by his marshmallow tongue. 

lee minho's kisses taste like rum soaked cherries, indulgent and sweet with a hint of bitterness that cuts through like colors on a stained glass window. he stains you completely red, the traces of his mouth against your skin leaving marks that can’t be covered up even if you intended to. 

seo changbin's kisses taste like sweet moscato, sweet with hints of grapefruit and raspberries, bubbly as he drifts along your tongue. he leaves you giggling against him, drunk off of the feeling of his lips on yours, kissing you again and again and again until you’re panting for more sips of him.

hwang hyunjin's kisses taste like roses and strawberries, floral and sweet and almost too much but never overwhelming. his lips feel like dainty petals against yours paired with the sweetest strawberry of his tongue dancing as fluidly as his limbs when he’s performing. 

han jisung's kisses taste like cinnamon and cloves, a bit of cardamom peeking through, as complex as a steaming mug of chai on a cold night. the comfort of your coziest socks as the heat from his mouth transfers to yours, making you melt against him like frost dripping off of evergreen trees. 

lee felix's kisses taste like lemon cupcakes, sweetness accompanied by the sharp bite of citrus that meld together in perfect harmony. creamy delicate swipes of tongue against lemon bites with his teeth that leave your head spinning. 

kim seungmin's kisses taste like crumbly butter biscuits, melting on your tongue, complemented by crystalized pieces of salt that cut through the sweetness with sharp fervor. the spice of freshly cracked black pepper comes through late, a welcome surprise hitting your head and making your eyes flutter shut. 

yang jeongin's kisses taste like salty ocean water, he hits your palette and makes you crave more and more. there’s sunshine dancing against your teeth as they meet, his tongue soothing the ache with the scent of sea breeze and fresh coconuts flowing through the air around you.

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[insidekatmind]

Trapped in Tenerife~Nicholas Chavez

Wearing: +18,smut, angst and sweet.

Request: yes!

The air in the room is dense, almost suffocating, even though the balcony door is wide open. The sound of ocean waves mixes with the rapid beating of your heart. You've just stepped into the hotel room, suitcase still clutched in your hand, when you see him. Nicholas is there, standing next to the bed, wearing the same incredulous expression you must have.

You freeze in the doorway, unable to move. You're sure the travel agent said the reservation was in your name only. But clearly, something has gone wrong.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, sighing. “Tell me this is a joke.”

His voice is the same as always, and for a moment, it pierces your chest. Six months. Six months without hearing from him, without seeing him, trying to put yourself back together. And now, here he is, in the same room you both booked before everything fell apart.

You force yourself to stay composed. “I thought the reservation was only for me.”

“So did I.” His jaw tightens. “Apparently not.”

You drop your suitcase by the door and cross your arms. He's dressed casually—jeans, a tight black t-shirt that highlights his toned physique. The Nicholas you knew always dressed well, but this rougher look makes him even more dangerous. More attractive, though you don’t want to admit it.

“Look, let’s handle this like adults,” he says, stepping forward. “I’ll call the front desk and get another room.”

You nod because it’s the only logical thing to do. But then you watch as he picks up the phone, scrolls through the screen, and then lets it drop onto the bed with a curse.

“Tell me there's no issue.”

“They’re fully booked.” His voice is tense.

Your skin chills despite the island heat. “What do you mean, ‘fully booked’?”

“It means we’re stuck here. Together.”

The tension between you is thick enough to cut with a knife. You step away from the bed and head toward the balcony, gasping for air. The wind tousles your hair, but it’s not enough to shake off the claustrophobia creeping up your spine.

“We can divide the space,” you say without turning around. “I’ll take the bed, you sleep on the couch.”

“Not a chance. I paid for this too.”

You spin around, glaring at him. “And so did I.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment before shaking his head with a sarcastic smirk. “You’re still the same. Stubborn to the end.”

His bitter laugh hits you harder than any insult. Because yes, you are still the same. The same person who, six months ago, watched your relationship crumble under the weight of arguments, misunderstandings, and suffocating silences.

The Fire Beneath the Ashes

Time passes, but the tension doesn’t fade. Nicholas lies on the bed, one arm behind his head, while you stubbornly sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone without really looking.

“You know what’s funny?” he suddenly says.

You sigh. “Enlighten me.”

“We swore this trip would be our fresh start.”

You stiffen. Yes. That was the plan. A getaway to rediscover each other, to put the pieces back together. But it was already too late.

“It was supposed to be different,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Nicholas props himself up on one elbow. “And it would’ve been if you hadn’t given up.”

His accusation strikes you like a dagger. You stare at him, and in his eyes, you see the reflection of all the pain you tried to forget. “Me?” you echo, incredulous. “You pushed me away. You shut me out.”

He gets up in one fluid motion, stepping too close. “That’s not true.”

His scent envelops you, and for a moment, everything rushes back—the nights spent laughing, hands intertwined under the covers, whispered promises in the dark. But those moments were washed away by reality.

You take a step back, but your shoulders hit the wall. Nicholas is right in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Tell me you feel nothing,” he murmurs.

The words catch in your throat.

Then, suddenly, he steps away. He takes a deep breath and sits back on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

“We just need to survive this night,” he says, not looking at you.

You turn back toward the couch, your heart pounding, knowing you won’t sleep at all. Because the problem isn’t the room. It’s not the hotel.

It’s the fact that, despite everything, Nicholas Chavez is still inside you.

And you don’t know how to get him out.

Night comes and you both were lying on the bed. It was hot so he was shirtless and you were wearing short pajama shorts and a bra.Nicholas lies on his back, the cotton sheets barely covering his body. The air conditioning hums, trying to keep the room cool, but it's not enough.

He glances over at you, the tension between you palpable. His gaze roams over your bare legs, the curve of your back, and he has to resist the urge to reach out. Instead, he closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the waves outside.You shift slightly, drawing his attention. Your legs brush against his for a brief moment, and he feels an electric jolt travel through his body. He swallows, trying to shake off the sensation, but it lingers.

Then he rolls onto his side, facing you. His eyes follow the lines of your body, tracing the curves of your hips, the slope of your back. You feel his gaze and shiver involuntarily.

He sees your reaction and his heart aches. He remembers the moments when his touch had the same effect on you, when you would melt under his touch.

He reaches out tentatively, his fingers just skimming the bare flesh of your hip. Your skin is soft and warm, the touch sending a shiver of desire through him.You hesitate for a moment, the ghost of his touch on your skin. You want to move away, to break the contact, but something holds you in place.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it's pointless. You know it. He knows it. Neither one of you can deny the chemistry that still simmers between you.

You leaned into his touch and sighed. Your sigh catches him off guard, and he feels his heart speed up. He had expected you to pull away, to push him back. But instead, you lean into him. Your body is so close that he can almost feel the beat of your heart.His fingers gently trail upwards, tracing the outline of your ribs, feeling the way your breathing quickens in response.

He tries to keep himself under control, but the more he feels of you, the harder it gets. He wants to pull you closer, to drown in the feel of you, to forget everything that has happened.

He presses his palm against your stomach, feeling the muscles clenching in response. You’re so close, he can almost feel the heat radiating off your body.“Nik” You whispered using his nickname.

A shiver ran down his spine as you whisper his name. It sounds different on your lips softer, more intimate. He leans in slightly, his heart pounding in his chest.His hand slides up your side, his touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin. “Yeah?” he responds, his voice low and gravelly.

“I missed you,” you whispered. Your confession hits his like a punch to the gut. He closes his eyes, wrestling with the emotions surging through him. For six months, he’d denied how much he missed you, the sound of your laugh, the way you fit so perfectly against him, the way you knew him better than anyone else.His hand moves to your hip, gripping it tightly. “I missed you too,” he rasped.

You turned to look at him and hugged him. He wraps his arms around you instinctively, pulling you against him. Your body presses against his chest, and he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

The familiar scent of you floods his senses, bringing back a rush of memories. He holds you tighter, not wanting to let go."I never stopped thinking about you," he murmurs.

You cling to him, feeling the strength and warmth of his body. It feels wrong and right at the same time.

His hands run over your back, tracing patterns on your skin. He kisses your forehead, your temple, the sensitive spot below your ear. Each touch is like a match igniting a spark within you. The fire burns brighter, consuming you both.

Your body betrays you, responding to his touch as if no time has passed. Your skin ignites wherever he touches you, and you arch into him, seeking more.

His hands roam your body, his fingers tracing the lines of your curves. You feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, the familiar ache building inside you.You look at him longingly as you caress his cheek.

His stubble brushes against your fingertips, a rough contrast to the softness of your touch. His eyes meet yours, their usual dark intensity even more apparent.

He covers your hand with his, bringing it to his mouth. He presses a kiss against your wrist, his lips lingering against your pulse point.He looks at you as if he wants to say something, but the words won’t come. So he lowers his head and kisses you instead.

The kiss starts off soft, tentative, almost as if he’s holding back. But then he deepens it, his tongue sliding into your mouth, and all restraint melts away.You moaned into the kiss and straddled him as you deepened the kiss even more. He groaned as you straddled him, his hands immediately going to your hips. He pulls you closer, his fingers sinking into your flesh. The kiss is desperate and needy, six months of pent-up desire pouring out.

He rolls you onto your back, his body pressing against yours, his weight pinning you down. He breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your neck, nipping at your pulse point.You moan softly and touch his muscles.

He shivers under your touch, every muscle in his body tensing in response. Your hands feel like fire on his skin, igniting a trail of desire wherever they go.

Nicholas kisses his way down your body, worshipping every inch of you. He sucks at your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin, marking you without even realizing it.

Nicholas takes off your bra and throws it on the floor to lick and suck your nipples. You moaned as you felt his tongue working its magic. "Nik" you moaned as you touched his hair. He growled at the sound of his name on your lips, the sound stoking the fire inside him. Hearing you moan for him was almost enough to send him over the edge.

He teased your nipple with his tongue, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive bud. His hands roamed over your body, his touch possessive and commanding. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've missed this so much."

He shifts to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment. His touch is both gentle and insistent, driving you crazy. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer as you arch into him.

"I've missed you so much," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I never stopped thinking about you."

You moaned and grinded on his erection. “You too,” you whispered. His breath hitches as you grind against him, his body responding to yours automatically. He can feel your heat through his sweatpants, and it drives him crazy.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "You're going to be the death of me."He immediately takes off your pajama shorts and underwear and quickly pulls down his boxers. He moves with purpose, his actions almost feral. He can’t bear the thought of waiting any longer. Your bodies are pressed together, his heat seeping into you.

He kisses you hard, his hand gripping your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap it around his waist. And then he’s right there, his tip pressed against your entrance, both of you trembling on the edge of pleasure. He entered you with a sharp thrust making both of you moan. “I forgot how nice and tight it was,” Nicholas moaned.

He begins rocking into you, his movements hard and relentless. Each thrust is punctuated by a low moan from his throat. It's as if his control is slipping.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, holding onto him tightly. It's as if you're both desperate to merge into one being.

You scratched his chest, moaning. “So good,” you moaned. Your nails dig into his skin, and he hisses through gritted teeth. The sting of your nails only adds to the pleasure, leaving his skin marked and red.

He presses his face against your neck, his mouth moving against your skin. "You feel so good," he groans, his voice ragged. "I've never wanted anyone like this."The intensity of his movements, his ragged breathing, all speak of his desperation. It's as if he's been starved for too long, and he can’t get enough of you.

His hands are everywhere, touching you, gripping you, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body. "I wanted this, I always did," he whispers in between kisses.

He's lost to the sensations, completely consumed by the moment. There's no time for words, only touch and sensation. He kisses you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring and possessing.His pace quickens, each thrust harder than before. But he can feel himself getting closer, approaching the edge. He wants to draw this out, to savor every moment.

He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. He runs a hand through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You whimpered and caught him in a kiss again. Your whimper ignites a raw hunger within him, and he kisses you back with fervor. His mouth roves over yours, claiming you, owning you.

He holds you tightly, his body pressed against yours, as if he never wants to let you go. Each kiss is a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel every inch of you.

Every nerve in your body is on fire, as if he's igniting a flame deep within you. You scratch your nails over his back, leaving marks as he kisses you. The feeling of him so close, his body melding with yours, is enough to drive you insane.You screamed and he fucked you harder. "Baby I'm cumming" you moaned.

He's completely lost in the moment. The sound of you calling him “baby” and the feel of your body writhing beneath him pushes him closer to the edge."Oh god," he whispers, his movements growing more erratic. "I'm gonna... I can't last..."

You moaned and scratched his back. “Come with me,” you whispered.

Your words, combined with the way your body writhes beneath him, is enough to make both of them come. He collapsed against you, his body trembling. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, neither of you speak, simply basking in the afterglow.

He looks at you, his eyes soft. “That was…” he trails off, unable to find the words. “Amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowing.”You smile and run your fingers through his hair. “I forgot how good it could be,” you say softly. For a moment, everything feels perfect.

He hugs you tighter, his arms wrapped securely around you. He nuzzles against your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. "I love you," he whispers, the words slipping out effortlessly.You felt your heart pounding and smiled. "Me too," you whispered.

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his expression a mix of tenderness and surprise. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the feelings had welled up inside him, and he couldn’t keep them locked away any longer.

Hearing you say it back makes his heart swell. "Really?" he asks, disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," you reply, cradling his face in your hands. "I never stopped." You brush a strand of hair off his forehead, a small, loving gesture.He leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours. "I was an idiot," he says softly. "I let you go when I should have fought for you."

"We were both idiots," you reply, a mix of sadness and acceptance in your voice. "It's just...I thought you didn't want me anymore.""That's the furthest thing from the truth," he says fiercely, taking your face in his hands. "I've always wanted you. Even when I pushed you away, even when I tried to convince myself I didn't, I did. It was killing me."

"Why didn't you say something then?" you ask, your voice tinged with hurt. "I thought you were done with me."

"Pride. Fear. Stupidity," he lists off, his grip on you tightening. "I was an idiot. I thought I could just move on, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Why are you telling me this now?" you ask, your voice quivering slightly. The wound he had left had only healed over, and now he was ripping off the scab.

"Because I can't pretend anymore," he says, his voice growing louder. "I can't keep acting like I don't care, like I don't miss you every second. I thought if I could keep you at a distance, it would make it easier, but it just made it worse."You're silent for a moment, his words sinking in. You had spent months trying not to think about him, trying to move on, and now he was there, telling you everything you had wanted to hear but never expected to hear.

You gave him a little smile and a sweet kiss. He melts into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours. The feel of your lips against his, the way your body molds into his - it’s as if the months apart never happened.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “What does this mean now?” he asks gruffly.

“Let's get back together,” you whispered. His heart swells at your words, and a wave of emotion washes over him. He pulls you closer, his grip tight and possessive.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with the effort of holding back the hope surging through him.You nod and caress his cheek, your touch gentle. "I'm sure," you say softly. "I don't ever want to spend another day without you."

He kisses you again, his lips moving over yours with a mix of tenderness and desperation. "I love you," he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he has felt over the past six months. "I swear I'll never let you go again."He tucks his head against your shoulder, holding you tight as he breathes in the scent of your hair. For a long while, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with the sound of your mingled breaths.

The weight of everything that’s gone unspoken seems to lift from his shoulders. He had carried it for so long, and now, being able to hold you and tell you he loves you is like a balm to his soul.