#and a couple of F bombs

[hydrachea]

Do you think god lives in fear of what they've created.

[theinfinitedivides]

do your partners know you've absconded to go rescue your honorary work boyfriend again Pathaan. have they been duly informed or is that just something they've come to expect from you

[incorrectpnatquotes]

[In hitball game] Max: Guys, can I ask you something? Dimitri: Sure. Johnny: Go ahead. Max: What the HECK are we doing?

[jester-step]

so was anybody going to tell me that dance fever is just banger after banger after banger or was i just supposed to find out a year later myself huh

[nikosheba]

A couple job interview hacks from someone who has to give a job interview every single goddamn day: (disclaimer: this goes for my process and my company’s process, other companies and industries might be different)

1. There are a few things I check and a few questions I ask literally just to figure out if you can play the game and get along with others in a professional setting. Part of the job I interview for is talking to people, and we work in teams. So if you can’t “play the game” a tiny bit, it’s not going to work. Playing the game includes:

- Why do you want to work here? (just prove that you googled the company, tell me like 1 thing about us, I just want to know that you did SOME kind of preparation for this interview)

- Are you wearing professional clothing? I don’t need a suit just don’t show up in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants.

- Are you able to speak respectfully and without dropping f-bombs all the time? Not because I’m offended but because I don’t want to be reported to HR if you wind up on my team.

- Can you follow simple directions in an interview?

2. Stop telling me protected information. I don’t want to know about what drugs or medications you’re on, I don’t want to know about you being sick, I don’t want to know if you’re planning to have children soon, I don’t want to know anything about your personal life other than “can you do the job?” 

3. When we ask, “What questions do you have for me?” here are my favorites I’ve heard: - What does the day-to-day look like for a member of your team?

- If one of your team members was not performing up to his usual standard, what steps would you take to correct that?

- What can I start doing now to accelerate my learning process in this job?

- What are some reservations you have about me as a candidate? (be ready for this emotionally....it will REALLY help you in the future, and I’ve had people save themselves from a No after this, but can be hard to hear)

- In your opinion, what skills and qualities does the ideal candidate for this job possess?

- What advice would you give to a new hire in this position/someone who wanted to break into this industry, as someone who has worked here for a while?

Those are just my tips off-the-cuff. I work in sales in marketing/SAAS, so these can be very different depending on the industry, but I wish the people I interview could read this before they show up. 

[anastasiabowe]

" WATASHI WA STAR! "

✩ɞ You're a fucking star. And they want a taste of it.

cw. MDNI, [SEPERATE] fan (except Nanami) (Toji, Nanami, Choso, Geto) with celeb reader, female implied reader, mild stalking, POC implied reader (specifically African/African American, but not secluded to such), semi-public sex, caught sex, piv, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected, creep tendencies, squirting. (Ps. Not too much on perspective shifts, I low-key was fighting demons trying to stay on 3rd person perspective but I gave up..sorry..)

wc. 6,776

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☆ backstage pass.

It wasn't every tour you offered such an amazing type of pass for your millions of fans. The back stage pass. You avoided it, you didn't like the idea of people looking at you from behind stage, getting in the way between songs, or even abusing the opportunity. But, when your team pointed out how much money you could make, how this could boost your morale, how could you refuse?

When it was announced that you were offering such a deal, the amount of people who made posts, videos, tweets about it, the amount of people that pleaded in your dm's about you saving them a ticket was overwhelming to say the least. It was mère weeks of the constant buzz about the special pass that was limited to 3 people. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, the hours felt like days for all the fans who would be coming to your Japan show that was in a couple of weeks.

Launch day was terrifying. The second the tickets went for sale, Ticketmaster crashed from the amount of people trying to fight and pay their way to the special pass. After it was fixed, and the many apologies given from yourself and your team. The first 5 were sold. But so were the 200,000 open seats that very day. Was it record breaking? Nearly, did it break headlines? Definitely.

That was a few weeks ago. Now it's the day of your concert. You weren't nervous, you've done this for years, I mean how could you be? The thing you were slightly anxious about was the 3 fans who'd be backstage with you. They aren't only back stage, they get free food, a meet and greet with you, back stage seats to watch you perform, and they get to listen to your unreleased single before anyone else. What if they were creepy old men who want to hurt you? What if they had a bomb, or gun, and wanted to kill you? Those thoughts ran through your head as someone knocked on your door.

"Y/n? Backstage pass holders are here. It's time for you to greet them." Your manager called through the door*

"Alright, thank you." You shook the nerves and opened your dressing room, following your manager out to the empty foyer except for the single man standing there.

You approached the smiling man. He wore nothing but black, but you could see the small logo of your logo on the left side of his all black shirt, under his leather jacket. It was clearly your merch.

"Hello." You spoke to the man. You studied his face as you spoke. He wasn't half bad looking. He was taller than you, he had well defined muscles under your merch, and he had a scar on his lip. He smirked and looked down at you.

"Hey, princess." He said too casually. You frowned at the nickname, unsure how to feel about it. Your mind didn't like it, but the butterflies that filled your belly proved otherwise.

"Is it just you?" You asked, looking behind him. He chuckled and looked behind and around himself.

"Guess so," he smirked. "Guess it's just you and me backstage." You frowned even more. Damn, now you have to entertain him for the "meet & greet" portion, and after the concert for when he hears your unreleased song. It's going to be a long night.

"Okay, well, thank you for purchasing the backstage pass. You'd be the first to enjoy the luxury." You said plainly, trying to fight the fact the longer he looked at you, the more shy and flustered you felt. Okay, you were lying. This man is hot. You imagined things about him you shouldn't..like how his scar might feel on your-

"princess?" He waved his hand in front of your face, chuckling. "There she is." You blinked and looked up at him. God, why does he have to call you that? It makes you even more flustered and those damn butterflies don't know how to fucking die. Did he even say anything? All you heard or saw was those highly inappropriate and fanciful visions of him and you indulging in- activities.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You asked, no longer slightly flustered, but very flustered. He had his phone out and looked at you

"Yeah, I said my name's Toji, can we take a photo for my son?" His tone was a bit snarky and I rolled my eyes. He had a kid? I mean, makes sense, who wouldn't want a man like that to get them preg- damnit what the hell is going on with you?!

"Oh, yeah, sure! Just a photo?"

"Yeah, unless you wanna do a video or something." He said nonchalantly. I shook my head. "no, it's okay." He only chuckled at that and positioned his phone to take a selfie. He wrapped his larger arm around your waist and pulled you close, heads touching. He brought his hand to your left tit and secretly placed his hand on there as if he was innocently trying to hold you close. He took a few more and you pulled away, trying to seem unbothered, but damn did that turn you on.

He put his phone away and smiled. He knew you were flustered. I mean it was obvious by how slightly red your face was, even under all that makeup, your ears were a little red. He could tell from the way your eyes flickered to his body as often, if not more often than he did to you. You bit your lip occasionally, and stared at his longer than necessary. He wanted you, and now he can tell you did too, but he wouldn't admit that. He continued to study your body language, and he then noticed, it was almost too discreet to see, but he knew what he saw. You rubbed your thighs together, and not because of how you stood. He knew he had you. The breath y/n was falling for him. If not that, somewhat into him.

"you okay princess? I hope my company isn't...bothering you." He smirked as he stared you down.

"H-Huh?" You stuttered like a damn fool. God, you're the y/n, why the hell is this nobody making you feel this way. Especially this quick! It's been what, maybe 20 minutes, and you're already thirsting over this stranger! Ugh! Get a fucking grip!

"You've been staring off into space, I'm starting to think all that money I paid to see your cute face was f'r nothing." He teased as he crossed his arms.

"No! No, it wasn't for nothing, I'm just a bit..nervous! Nervous for the show, you know?" You tried to lie. It was so fucking obvious you were lying. You've bragged to the world at how comfortable you were on stage and how when you performed for half a million, you were only nervous that you might slip or fall in the heels you wore, but not from the amount of people looking at you. He knew it was a bold face lie, and he found great joy in your flustered state.

"Hmm, is that so? I guess I see no lie in that." He said, emphasizing the lie part. Damnit, now you were aware of the fact he knew you were lying. He definitely knows you're into him. But you can't be! I mean all those dating rumors, fan theories, I mean hell, what if you lose your following!? You sighed. Fuck...why were you giving in so damn easily? Why was he making you feel like this..I mean all he has is a pretty face! And a pretty body..and voic- fuck!

"Uh..what time is it?" You asked, trying to change the subject from the roaring thoughts filling your mind. He laughed and grabbed your wrist with your watch on it. "Hmmm, I wonder princess. It's almost like you have a watch on your wrist." Of course he'd be sarcastic, of course! Just find every fucking opportunity to make you embarrassed, huh?

"O-Oh.. I knew that." You tried to play it off. It was only 5:30, and your concern starts at 7. You had maybe an hour left with him alone before you had to be brought back into your dressing room to get ready for your concert. He continued his grip on your wrist, and that's when he did it. He pulled you to him. Right in the middle of that empty foyer.

"you know princess, I paid a whopping $2000 for this backstage pass. It wasn't easy getting the pass. And it certainly wasn't easy making sure I was the only one you'd be seeing tonight, so I think I should make it worth the money, don't ya think?" He smirked as he said that inches from your face. "You got a room we can go to? So we can..chat a little?"

You knew exactly what he was insinuating. He had you flush against him. He was whispering lowly in that deep, seductive voice of his. He was luring you in, and it was working. You should be pulling away. His wandering hand down to your ass didn't go unnoticed, yet you didn't pull away. You only nodded and that's how you found yourself bent over on your vanity in your dressing room, hair wrapped manically in his thick fingers as he fucked you from behind, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"yeahhh, that's what 'm fucking talking' about." He growled as he stared at your pretty tear stained face. All that damn expensive makeup you wore just for him to find a game in trying to take it off by tears alone was comical to him. Your legs felt like jelly, and the mean arch you were in was borderline painful, but he hit it so fucking good!

"ah-ah-ah!" You cried as his rough thrusts hit deeper and deeper. Your eyes rolled and crossed and molded into hers as you felt him in your gut. He planned this, that's what's so infuriating about this. He had the condoms ready, the fresh tattoo of your name, small, but visible right above his dick. He had all the right things to say and things to do to get you to the point of letting this- stranger fuck you!

"T-Toj-" he cut you off as he brought his lips to your ear in a mean smile as he stared at your tear-stricken face in the mirror. "Shhhh, princess. Just let me take care of you." He chuckled. His hand that was on your hip was now on your breast, fondling and pulling at the nipple. He moved his other hand from your hair to your neck so he could pull you up, and fuck you like that. God you were so hot. He just wanted you all to his self. For 5 fucking years he wanted you. Yeah, it was creepy, maybe just a little, but he never did anything diabolical! He put posters and pictures of you up in his son's room so he has an excuse to see your face. He always saved your photos, screenshot them from any platform you posted them on and put them into a hidden album. He never missed an album or single released from you. He wished he could travel the world with you to see you at every concert you had, but he wasn't a millionaire.

"Love this pussy, love this body, love this voice, and fuck I love you." Any person in their right mind would find his words creepy, but you weren't in the right mind, you didn't even think you had one at the moment. His words only brought you closer to your release. After a while, he let go of your tit and neck and pulled out. He picked you up like a doll and brought you to the couch in the dressing room. He sat down and had his arms around your legs in a full nelson. He inserted himself and began fucking you like that. He let out the hottest groan you've ever heard and you cried from pleasure in this new position.

"Fuck me!" You whined as he chuckled. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, nothing but spit and teeth as he fucked up into you. He muttered things no woman would want to hear from a stranger.

"Makin' it real hard not to put a baby into you, just so everyone can know you're mine.. maybe take ya home with me, show you off to my kid..you know he'd love it, right? He wouldn't let you go, oh no he wouldn't. How's that sound? Knock you off this high horse your own and mommify you, domesticate you." No, no, no, he didn't mean that, he couldn't have. But of course, you didn't reply. You brain was mush. All these words did were turn you on to the point you came without letting him know.

"Naughty fuckin' girl. Did I say you could cum? So fucking greedy, don't know what to do with ya." He meanly said. He started rubbing your cunt, continuing to fuck you. "Since you like cumming so much, let's just see how much more you can, princess."

Stupid backstage pass.

NANAMI KENTO ☆ post premier.

Oh the actor life. Full of filming, premiers, releases, interviews, fame. You were currently one of the highest trending actresses of 2024. Next to Margot Robbie, Zendaya, hell even Anne Hathaway. You had movies, after movies, after shows coming out for a couple of years, and each a rising hit. You were currently at the red carpet of your newest movie. You wore a beautiful black dress that was tight and long. It had a draped back, that showed off your beautifully toned and clear back. The draped part hung low and perfect right above your ass, and your hair was just as pretty. It was a wig that looked stunning on you. It was long, and the curled layers added to the elegance. You were currently resting your hand on your co-star, Kento. He was new to the acting industry, but any movie you were in with any co-star made every actor seem like an A-list actor.

The paparazzi and journalists loved your chemistry the best. Kento was a fine man. Had good morals, spoke nothing but respect and admiration for you at interviews. He had high respect for you in person with the way he looked, spoke, and touched you. He kept his hands to himself, or at respectable places on your body like your arm, which many other co-stars didn't. If he saw your dress was slipping down too much, or the people taking a gazillion photos of you focused on your chest or lower region, he'd cover it up with his hand or body. Those actions didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Everyone praised and fawned over your relationship. It almost seemed like your relationship in the romance movie was...real.

You and Kento soon began to enter the elegant and high class theater, but before, you were pulled gently by him for an interview with a well known journalist for a well known magazine.

"Kento, y/n. Tell us about the dynamics in your movie before it's released to the public." The Australian man asked, more focused on Kento for the moment.

"Well, our characters are from 2 completely different worlds. Y/n's character is lively, fun, not as well off as my character, but she brings joy to the people around her, like in real life. She brings joy everywhere she goes. My character is more reserved, well off, and a bit more modest and stoic. Much more like myself, I prefer to stay out of the spotlight. I think it's a very common trope in most romance movies, but the plot and acting really make our movie stand out, and I'm excited for all to see." Kento said as he looked at me, the journalist and camera.

"And as for you, Y/n?"

You smiled and looked at Kento. "Just as he said, but I'd like to add that our characters may be completely different, but they fit together so well. I think we balanced each other out quite well, and as you will see in the movie when it comes out, the chemistry between them seems almost fanciful. But I think that's what true love should look like." You smiled up at Kento, and the journalist couldn't even tell if you were actually talking about the characters, or yourselves. He smiled, and nodded.

"Well, we're excited to watch your movie when it comes out." You and Kento nodded as well, and waved as you both began to head into the theater. You kept your hands around his arm as you both walked and he leaned down and kissed your exposed shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he looked at your face. You looked up at him and nodded.

"yes, I'm excited to watch our movie." You softly laughed as you both and many others including other co-stars and the bits team headed into the theater. You saw a few other celebrity friends of yours, and you waved to them, but you never left Kento's side. You both found your seats and sat down. This might be a late to say, but you and Kento were secretly dating. I mean, that type of chemistry in your movie and person wasn't just good friends, it was the chemistry of lovers. Everyone you knew, knew you and Kento were dating, and they all were respectful and quiet about it. I mean it was almost obvious that you both were dating though. He constantly has his hands on you, even though they could be mistaken for a co-star being kind to their other co-stars, you knew he was just being slightly possessive. He kissed your shoulder often, and when paparazzi or journalists/interviewers were out of sight, his hand wandered to your exposed lower back.

You both weren't hiding your relationship, but you also weren't super open about it because it was your relationship. And you wanted it to be strictly your guys', not the world's.

"I'm nervous about the adult scene." He muttered honestly. You laughed and placed your hand on his. He was so cute, it was hard to believe he'd, such a domestic and masculine man could be so cute. You squeezed his hand and reassured him. "Especially since we know what really went down."

You blushed and nodded. Even though the adult scene was fake, you both were into it, and in the real way. Kento did ask once if the padding they wore was necessary, and the body suit you had to wear to keep the movie 17+ and not rated R. They gave you the freedom to do what you pleased in the general sense of 'making love' and not anything more.

"I think it'll be a good trip down memory lane." You smiled. The director of the movie came on the stage in front of the screen, and gave a synopsis and introduction to the movie. He thanked us all and the movie began. Throughout the movie, many of us actors laughed and smiled about the scenes we were in. Ken often smiled and quickly told me about what he did or felt, or reminded me of the bloopers. I smiled and laughed quietly at his remarks. The adult scene came and passed, and you smiled through it all. Soon the movie came to an end and the theater erupted in claps. You and Ken had rehearsed this moment of where after the movie you'd each give your own person thank you or speech. We both got up and he helped me carefully onto the stage and began speaking.

"thank you all who showed up, watched, and enjoyed the movie. Me, Rayna, our co-star and movie team are so thankful for the opportunity to fill this movie. We hope you all enjoyed it, and will continue to." He continued in thanking individuals for a specific thing and I remained silent and had my hand on his lower back as spoke. He then clapped with everyone else when he was done, and looked at you as you began to speak. Of course, you were starting to tear up like you did with every premier. It wasn't an annoyance, and everyone knew they were tears from how proud you were of everyone and how you always have some emotional tie to the movie or show you filmed. This one was different though, because you found a lover through it. For the first time.

"I just want to thank Ken. I mean, I've done movies like his for years, and I've never felt this way for a co-star. He is brilliant, kind, hardworking, and caring, and I wouldn't wish for someone better. This is his first movie, believe it or not, and I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of everyone, but I'm proud of him." Everyone clapped and you laughed as he pulled you into a hug. You cried into the hug and everyone clapped and cheered.

After the premier, you and Kento were in the car on your way back to your house. He wanted to celebrate with you for the movie. There were already good remarks from critics, and the movie is already trending without even being out. You reached your mansion, and entered the cold but warm place. You got out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. Ken as well.

You both sat on your couch and enjoyed some wine and champagne. You sat there in his shirt and panties. He in a shirt and his dress pants from the evening. You smiled as you both sat there in comfortable silence.

"I'm so proud of you, love." He finally said. His eyes were staring ahead as he took a sip from his glass. "So damn proud of you." He then looked at you and smiled. You smiled back.

"I'm so proud of you. You made this my favorite movie I've ever filmed."

"And you made my first movie the best movie I've ever filmed." He said warmly, setting his glass down, and taking yours from your hand, setting it down. He pulled you into his lap, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck and sighed contently. You threaded your fingers in his blonde locks and rested your head on his.

He softly moaned to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and gently kissed your chest over the shirt. You smiled, and settled further into his lap. He groaned slightly and gripped your hips. "Don't move like that, love, you know it was hard enough to keep myself under control when you were in that dress.

"We're alone now, what's there to hold back?" You smiled mischievously and slowly began to grind on him. He groaned again, and looked up at you, once neat and smooth hair, now messy and fluffy. His eyes bore into yours as he groaned again. You looked down at him and bit your lip with a smile. "What's wrong, ken?" You asked innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head, pulling you down on his clothed cock harder. "You know, y/n, that adult scene gave me ideas." He muttered as he ran his hands over your waist. "How it must feel to just make love..all night." You blushed at his words.

"Y-Yeah?" You stuttered as your face felt warm.

"yeah. I think we should try it again but for real this time." He smirked. "How's that sound, love?"

You felt impossibly warmer. You guys never 'made love' quote on quote. You didn't fuck either.. you guys barely made it past kissing and dry humping, so now he wants to make love. I mean, who were you to refuse.

"I would like that, ken..a lot." You smiled. He smiled back and nodded. He then began to kiss your neck gently, pressing warm but cold and wet kisses to your neck. His hands slipped under his shirt (that you wore) and caressed your soft body. You moved your head to give him more access, and you softly moaned. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, exposing your body, now only in the black panties you chose to wear. He marveled at your body, eyes never leaving your chest. He smiled, and moved his kisses from your neck, to your collarbone and below. He took his time with you. He wanted you to feel his love for you, every single drop. His kisses were deliberate and targeted. His kisses made your tummy heat up, and thighs wanting to close, but his legs which you were sitting on prevented such.

"K-Ken-..more please.." you muttered as your hands gripped his hair tighter. He nodded and gently bit your chest. "As you wish love." He had his hands on your hips as he laid your nearly naked body onto the couch. He slipped off his shirt, and undid his pants, sliding them down. "Tell me what you want, love."

No, no, no.. not this, please. You internally begged. You hated when he did this, you just wanted him to touch you where it hurt, where it begged for him. "Kennn!" You whined. He knew what he was doing! He smirked. That damn smirk that makes you melt and fold in ways no other man has ever gotten you to do. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your lips. "I'm sorry baby, you know how I am. Tell me what you want, and you'll get it, I promise." He smiled as he almost babied you, which you really didn't mind.

"Mmm, touch me..down there.." you muttered, now feeling shy. He smiled and brought his hands to your lower stomach. "Here?" He smiled. You whined and he chuckled. "You gotta be a little more specific love, there's a lot "down there"."

You huffed and wrapped your legs around his waist. "Kennn! You know where!" He tried to act like he didn't and you groaned. "I wanna feel you in me!" He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Better." He then hooked his fingers into the panties, and pulled them up your legs, you immediately unlocking them from his waist so he could pull them off. He pulled off his boxers as well, his angry tip slapping against his stomach. You looked down at his cock, it was so pretty. You've only seen it once before, but not for something like this. He reached into his wallet which was in his pants pocket and pulled out a condom.

"No." You sat up and grabbed the condom, throwing it away from you both. He looked at you with furrowed brows. "Honey?" He asked confused why you did that. You now felt sheepish but you stayed firm. "I-I want you inside.. I wanna feel all of you."

"Are you sure?" He asked carefully. He was hoping you were sure of what you were implying. He had no problem with it, but it could lead to a longer term issue. A child. You nodded and locked your legs around his waist again. "I'm sure, now please put it in..I just wanna feel you, that's all, please." He couldn't say no to that cute face. Your cute body, he just couldn't. So he lined himself up, and remained hovering over you.

"Take some deep breaths, love." He whispered as he slowly inserted his thick tip. You gasped and held onto him, arms wrapped around his neck and back, nails scratching. He paused and waited till you calmed down before he slowly inserted himself. He was so thick, and long, and God did it feel glorious. When you gave him the okay, it was like a whole new world was opened. You weren't new to sex, you've had a few hookups throughout the years, but they were never this intimate, this intense. Kento cared about you and your well-being over his own pleasure, and to be honest, you think he finds pleasure in your well-being! He grunted as his pace increased and each grunt sent another deep pang of butterflies into your tummy. You moaned and whimpered into his ear at how good he felt. It was so overwhelming that a tear slid down your cheek. No words were said throughout this moment. He kissed your tears and lips. He kissed your nose and cheeks. He loved you, but he wouldn't say it until you did. He didn't wanna scare you off.

He hit so deep, and the mixture of pleasure, and security you felt made it 10x better. "K-Ken- fuck, it's so good, it's so, so, good, please don't stop." You cried as he continued his pace, increasing the speed of it slightly. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn't do it before you, he couldn't.

"sweetheart, you-fuck, you close?" He groaned as he felt himself too close. You whined and nodded. He tapped his shoulder repeatedly as you came and that's all it took for him to come inside. He captured your lips in a kiss as he fucked you both through it. It was too good, too fucking good, and you both felt it. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and he chuckled.

"I'm hard again."

CHOSO KAMO ☆ cute stalker.

There you were. Walking through all those paparazzi wannabe's. They wish you looked at them like you did him. They wished you got on your knees for them like you did him. They wanted to be him so bad, your lover. Except, you didn't even know who he was. You never met him, seen him, touched him. It was all in his head. Choso wasn't crazy, he swears he's not. He just likes every photo, video, interview you were in, your account or not. He would constantly buy new phones from himself constantly breaking them from throwing them from seeing you with another man. He wanted you all to his self.

He wasn't crazy, he swears he isn't. He just wants the love of his life all to himself, that's all. I mean how could he not, you were beautiful, and you always look at him, every time you follow him you see him, you smile and wave at him. No you didn't. He follows you and whatever way you look and he happens to be secretly stalking you from, he thinks that's you looking at him. But, you have met, once. At your meet and greet. He was so excited to see you, and he did, but he let something slip out that got him kicked out. He said he'd kill for you. He was dead serious, but he didn't mean he'd ACTUALLY kill FOR YOU! He just meant he'd protect you. But there's been too many cases of celebrities being killed by crazy fans who have the "if I can't have you, no one will" mentality. But he'd never kill you, he wants you for real and not in the afterlife.

So here he was, deliberately walking towards you, pushing past paparazzi, and straight to you. He was nervous. The bouquet in his hands, the chocolate in his other. The large teddy bear with your name on its tummy squeezed tight to his chest, he was ready. But just as he was about to reach you, he was yanked away by a security guard. The security guard threw him into the wall yelling at him to step away. He cried out, and you widened your eyes at the contact. You pushed the security guard away and rushed to him despite the other security stopping you.

"Are you okay?! Why the hell did you do that!?" You asked Chris, and yelled at the security. The security didn't look sorry for hurting Choso, but a bit startled at your yelling. You gently brought your hand to the back of his head which was bleeding from the impact, and frowned. You gathered the flowers that thankfully stayed together, the chocolate, and bear and handed it to him. "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

He didn't take the gifts and nodded. "Those are for you..and I'm okay.." he was fighting tears, but not from pain, from you being so close to him. His dream girl. You smiled at his words on how those gifts were for you. You looked at the bear and clutched it to your pretty chest, oh the chest that he'd bury his face in for decades. He stared at your pretty face as you talked to him. You were inviting him to eat with you, but all he heard was "bla bla bla, I love you, bla bla bla." He'd probably explode if his head wasn't elsewhere at your invite. You noticed his dazed expression and softly laughed, tapping his cheek.

"hello?" He shook himself out of his fantasy and looked at you when you got his attention. "Do you want to have lunch with me? To apologize for what my security did?" Did he hear you right?! The paparazzi was continuously snapping photos of them, but he didn't care. He nodded and smiled, with your help, stood up. You were slightly shorter than him, and he couldn't help but find you adorable as you held his hand and pulled him into the restaurant you were going to dine in. It was a celebrity restaurant meant for no flash photography or paparazzi in general. You got a table and sat across from him, your security remained at the table next to you.

"I'm really sorry about that, your head is bleeding.." I frowned when I looked at my hand which touched his head a bit ago. He waved you off, too focused on your casual beauty. He knew you weren't wearing makeup, and how cute you looked without it. You let him order whatever he wanted, and you smiled and chatted with him. Each sentence, word, syllable that came out of your mouth made him even more obsessed with you. All those months of following you did not go in vain. It was all worth it. This would be a life lesson to you all who read this, good things comes to those who wait.

You found yourself finding the man kind of..cute? He had this cute purple hue under his eyes, and his 2 spikey buns were adorable. He smiled and was attentive to you, and you couldn't help but enjoy his company. You must have enjoyed it too much, because here you were, in the bathroom of that restaurant sucking him off.

"Aha, y-y/n.." he moaned your name as you licked and sucked his cock. It was so good, so yummy. You enjoyed the feeling of it laying heavy in your mouth. He thought he was dreaming, the delusion finally winning, but no, here he was getting head from his favorite actress. You brought your tits to his cock, and began pushing them together and squeezing his cock with them. He didn't know what to do with his hands. Does he put them on the sink, or does he put them in your hair? You smiled up at him so devilishly that he chose the latter. You stuck your tongue out, and licked his tip with every up and down you made your tits go. Almost like a premature teen, he came over your tits and onto your tongue, chin, collarbone. You continued to stroke him, and licked up his mess.

"Mm, so pretty."

GETO SUGURU ☆ chauffeur.

You've gone through driver after driver, but they all weren't like Geto. He was your personal driver, went everywhere you did. He knew the routes you liked, he knew how to keep you entertained. He understood you when you complained to him. He was always on time to pick you up and drop you off. He knew how you liked the car you were in, the right temperature, whether you wanted the windows down or not, he also knew what Spotify playlist you'd be into, which was usually your songs. But also, he knew he was in love with you.

He always remained respectful of you, cheeky yes, but never crude or creepy. He complimented you, helped you into the car and out, always saying something about you being a "princess". He loved driving for you. He loved that you loved him driving for you. He knew he was a shoulder for you to cry on, and that's why you usually always confided in him, no matter how long the drive. You also sit in the front more often than not. Most people don't do that, but he makes you feel welcome in the front, and you like sitting in the front.

You soon found yourself way too comfortable with him. He practically was your boyfriend without the touching and title. You told him about your period, your cravings, your needs, desires, wants. You've talked about your body and how you love it or hate it. You complained to him about sexual frustration. It wasn't like you had to tell him any of that, you certainly didn't. You had many friends who you could tell that too instead, but there was something about him that was so inviting. He's also confided in you too. He talked to you about this girl he liked and how he wanted her. He talked to you about his hair and how he's happy you like it long. He's let you even do his hair in long traffic stops. You guys were like lovers without being official.

But you'd be a damn fool to say he wasn't attractive. You found yourself almost excited when he honked the horn every time he waited for you outside, or how upset you'd be when he didn't pick you up and someone else did instead. You found yourself staring at him and imagining how it'd feel for you to grip his hair as he hugged you, or did other activities. You wondered if he would be into hair pulling, or if he'd be into other things. It was inappropriate, it was weird, and it definitely wasn't the cause to the fact you're riding him in the backseat of your limo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Geto repeated as you hopped on his dick. You tugged his hair as you rolled your hips and slid up and down his lengthy cock. He captured your left tit into his mouth as his hands remained firm on your lower ribs. You moaned as your legs burned, but the feeling of his cock inside you overpowered all your senses and you prevailed. You never lent up as he has came many times, you just as many. He was completely pussy drunk off of you. Soon enough, he couldn't handle it anymore and came again. You moaned and giggled as he came inside you, you enjoyed the feeling, and your body shivered at it. You continued to grind down fervently. He let out the hottest whimpers and groans as you fucked him dry. You soon came and slowed down to a stop. He held your front to his tightly as he shook from how much he came.

"W-want to taste you.." he shamelessly admitted, pulling you gently off of him, and laid you in the gap between the driver and passenger seats so he could eat you out. He let out a shaky breath as he looked at your soppy, creamy cunt, mixed with his and your juices. He pressed his nose and lips to your cunt and began gently sucking and licking you clean. His tongue slapped up every juice from you. You moaned and your legs shook at the overstimulation. He didn't even realize how good you tasted till he found himself panting as he continued to desperately eat you out. You let out a scream in pleasure and pulled his hair.

"G-Getooo! T-too much~♡!" He groaned and continued to eat you out. He inserted his middle and ring finger and began fucking you with them. You squealed and he smiled. You tried to push his head away, legs kicking and shaking as you felt your release again.

"S-Sugu-ahhh!" You shook as you came again, your juices sprayed against his face and he let out the hardest groan, cumming himself simply from eating you out. He slowly licked you clean and pulled away, hair a bit wet from you squirting.

"First time you've given me a ride." He chuckled, kissing your thighs.

"it definitely won't be the last."

[daechwitatamic]

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. “Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

– 

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills. 

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead. 

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves. 

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated. 

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better. 

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for. 

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s. 

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away. 

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No. 

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering. 

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted. 

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them. 

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate. 

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true.  “I got scared.” 

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly. 

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol. 

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you? 

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded. 

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again. 

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood. 

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low. 

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it. 

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away. 

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones. 

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces. 

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you. 

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it. 

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction. 

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that. 

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense. 

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission. 

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him. 

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling. 

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing. 

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt. 

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole. 

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight. 

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind. 

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred. 

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that. 

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome. 

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles. 

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner. 

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened. 

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call? 

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop. 

You greet the person on the line with your real name. 

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck. 

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away. 

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore. 

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response. 

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen. 

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time. 

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.” 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago. 

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh. 

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together. 

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long. 

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter. 

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival. 

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“It will be okay,” she whispers. 

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons. 

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside. 

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control. 

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat. 

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it. 

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch. 

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it. 

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly. 

“And that’s it?” he demands. 

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight. 

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision. 

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap. 

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love. 

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness. 

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk. 

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding. 

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following. 

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake. 

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know. 

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide. 

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. 

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory. 

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.” 

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign. 

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem. 

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart. 

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly. 

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded. 

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?”  He looks sideways at you, sly. 

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

[miniwheat77]

Triple Threat. (Keegan, König, & Ghost X Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, double penetration, Sex Pollen, drugs, death, violence, poorly translated German, (sorry if I missed any.)

It’s been a long day.

You’ve been walking for miles behind the trio of masked men. You aren’t even sure why you were sent on this mission, considering the three men in front of you were the strongest. Physically and Mentally. They’re all skilled, more skilled than you’ll ever be. But you obey orders and even though you’re pointless to be here, you’re still enjoying yourself. König thought you’d be useful, you can’t argue there.

You’re lagging behind a bit, listening to everything going on. You’ve got a clear idea of how this mission is supposed to go. Capture the target, see what he knows, leave no survivors.

After a couple bomb threats from this person with the target of the base you all stayed on, you had no choice but to do this. You were getting too close to his operation and he was getting desperate. Which means whatever he has going on, is not good. You’d been walking a few miles, it’s where you were dropped off. You were closing in on the building he was in. It was all dense jungle around it. Nowhere to run.

As you approached the building, you noticed quite a few men outside. They were loading up a truck with crates of something. None of you had any kind of idea what it could be. “Keegan and Ghost, you two go ahead. You’re the quietest.” You nod. They give you nods of their own before splitting off into their own directions. “I’m going to go around, see if I can’t get a clear shot of some on the other side.” You mumble to König. He tilts his head. “Be safe, schatz.” You smile, “always.”

You make your way around, not having any idea of what awaits you ahead.

König watches through his scope, not sure why he’s out here when he did better with close combat, but nevertheless he kept quiet and stayed hidden. He watched Ghost and Keegan zero in.

“Y/N, how’s it looking?” He says into his radio.

He receives nothing but silence.

“Y/N? Do you copy?”

After another few minutes of silence, he begins to panic.

“Y/N isn’t responding, she circled around to get a better view, verrücktes Mädchen.” He mumbles the rest as he releases the button on his radio. “Shit. We have to get inside.” Ghost calls back.

“Keegan, do you copy?”

Ghost calls.

Goosebumps rise on his skin when he gets nothing in return. He’s breathing hard, resting up against a door. “Keegan?” He asks again. He sighs. “König. Keegan isn’t answering either.”

He takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He’s surprised when König doesn’t call back.

“König?”

Silence.

“God damnit.“ he breathes, taken by surprise when a dart is being shot into his neck. “What the f-“

That’s the last he remembers.

Slowly, one by one, they’re waking up. They’re on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. They’ve killed most of the threats, but there’s still one. “Rise and shine.” He smiles. Their vision is blurry but they can hear you whimpering. When they fully register what’s going on, they start to panic. You’re strapped to a chair, fully naked. You’ve got a cloth tied around your mouth. “What the fuck is going on?” Keegan yells. “Ah, so you can talk.” The man smiles. He’s breathing hard, fighting against his restraints. He runs a knife over your chest and you close your eyes tightly, breathing heavily. “Deep breaths darling. Yeah, that’s it.” He chuckles.

König’s eyes darken. He wants to rip this man’s head off for touching you.

“Your precious girl here is infected now. Well… all of you are.” He chuckles. “This little dart here. Holds 1 Milliliter of the sweetest drug you can get your hands on.” He holds up the little dart. “I prescribe about 1/4 of that for my very special clients. You’re all infected with enough of this to kill a horse.” He laughs. “What the hell is it?” Ghost seethes. “Oh? You don’t know?” He smirks. “It’s a sex drug. A bit like the over the counter ones you can buy, but on steroids. When you take a little bit, you get aroused, you produce pheromones that attract people, makes sex intense. But when you take in more than the recommended amount..” he clicks his tongue.

“Heart rate picks up. Blood pressure rises. Keeps rising and rising until it bottoms out. You’ll either die of a heart attack or your heart will just give out.” He laughs. “So.. your girl here. She was infected first. Which means she’s going to die first, and you’re all going to watch her squirm. She’s going to beg for relief, beg for anything you’ll give her. But you’re stuck.” He laughs. “The only way she’ll feel better is if she gets fucked enough.” He laughs. He sits down in a chair, writing something down. “Ich werde dich töten.” König seethes. Looking up at him through his mask. “What was that big guy? Hm?” He laughs. He stands up once more. “You know what, I’ve got an idea. How about we get rid of the ridiculous costumes, show your real faces!” He claps his hands together. He starts with König, pulling off his hood. He glares up at him. Next was Ghost, he tugs his balaclava off. Ghost sends him a death stare. Next was Keegan, who had a smile on his face. “What are you smiling at?” He crouches down. “Just think your head is going to look perfect on a stick.” He spits in his face. He growls. “Whatever. Pay close attention to your little girlfriend, she’s going to start begging soon enough.” He mumbles. “She’s actually really sexy, might give her a go before her heart explodes.” He grips his dick through his jeans and that’s when König tugs at the ropes, feeling them start to give away. You whimper out, shifting in your chair. “Yeah, there we go.” He chuckles, sitting back down. He goes back to writing something down, and you squirming on the chair doesn’t help the situation at all. You’re rubbing your thighs together, raising your hips. You’re rutting them down into the chair for any sort of relief. As the time goes on, the worse it gets. Pretty soon, all three men are trying to ignore the tightening in their pants, shifting uncomfortably, trying hard to get out of their restraints.

“Awe. Look at you.” The man smiles. “Soaking the chair.” He chuckles. He runs his fingertips up your thigh and you flinch. “Stop.” Ghost growls. “Nah, I think it’s time I take her for a test drive.” He smiles. König rips through the ropes, the man freezes when he hears the click of a gun.

“Turn around.” He growls. “Woah… take it easy big guy. I was only joking.”

“Ich habe einen Witz für dich.” He smiles. “What?” He asks. Just then, König pulls the trigger. He hits the man right between the eyes. He falls backward, blood pouring from his head. König cuts the ropes off of Ghost and motions for him to free Keegan. König rushes to get to you. “You okay?” He asks. “No-“ you shiver. He kneels down, freeing you from the chair. “I know, it’s hard. But you have to fight it.” Ghost mumbles. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” He asks. You shake your head. “No.” You grit your teeth. “Where are your clothes?”

“I don’t know, it’s too hot anyways.” You pant. Your skin is hot to the touch. Keegan stands behind you, brushing your hair away from you to look at you. You’re completely clear aside from a tiny puncture mark from the dart. “The… the only way-“ you grit your teeth, closing your eyes. “The only way is to have sex, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.” You whine. “I feel it too.” Keegan mutters. Ghost looks down. Agreeing silently. König nods his head. “So what do we do?” Keegan asks.

“We do what we have to.” Ghost mumbles. You nod your head.

The more aroused the three men get, the better they seem to smell. They’re attracting you so much. You bend over, crying out. “You okay?” Keegan kneels by you. “Can’t take it anymore.” You look up at him. Tears streaming from your eyes. “Cmon.” He mumbles, sliding his arm under the bend of your knees and your back. He lifts you up. “We’ve got to find a room or something. If we’re going to do this we have to start now.” Keegan mumbles. They nod. They quickly move through the building, Ghost first, König next, and than Keegan with you. They move in a line, just in case there’s more men they don’t know about. You whine into Keegan’s shoulder. Propping yourself up onto him. “Y/N- what are you doing?” He mumbles. “Need it- need it so bad Keegan.” You mewl. You grip onto him, wiggling out of his grasp so that you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist. You attack his neck with your teeth, grinding your hips into him.

“Shit- Y/N. We’re almost there. You have to stop-“ he grits his teeth, Ghost and König glance back at you, seeing you attacking Keegan. Your desperation has them aching.

“In here.” Ghost holds open the door, locking it behind you and propping a chair up on it just in case. It’s a bedroom, at last. “Ah- you’ve got to let go sweetheart.” Keegan groans. “No, please. I need it. Need it so bad.” You whine. Grinding your hips into him more. “I know, we’re going to help you. Just… for one second baby.” He breathes. You let go of him and he lowers you onto the bed. “Fuck..” he growls. Noticing the way you’ve soaked the front of him. The three men are standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you. Like you’re the finest meal they’ve ever laid their eyes on. Keegan is first to break, reaching for his belt. Your pupils are blown out as you watch his hands move to unbuckle it. The other two follow his movements. You bite your lip, body shivering at the thought of what’s about to happen. You can’t help yourself, reaching between your legs to stimulate the sensitive nub that awaits any kind of relief it can get. A mewl leaves your lips and you tilt your head back. “She’s going to have to get used to me, I’ll go last.” König nods. They all silently agree. He’s right, he’s the biggest of the three. After admiring the way you touch yourself, they can’t anymore.

Keegan reaches out, grasping your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Poor girl. Just soaking..” he breathes. He rubs the tip of his cock over your aching hole, a whine leaving your lips as you raise your hips into him. He moves his hips forward, the tip of his cock pushing through your wet folds. You want to cry when he fills you up. The relief you feel is incredible. You can feel more tears welling up in your eyes as he starts to thrust himself inside of you.

The squelch from your wet pussy is the only thing they can hear besides your whines. You squirm around, the way he feels is almost too much. “Ah- you’re gripping me so tight.” He breathes. “Hold on.” Ghost mumbles. He lifts you up off of the bed, apologizing at the loss you feel from Keegan exiting you. You straddle him. “You wet enough from her?” He asks. Keegan nods his head. “Y-yeah. Fuck.” He groans. He’s never done anything like this before, nothing like he’s about to do. Ghost lines his cock up with your pussy, and you sink down onto him with a gasp. Clutching his shoulders. “There you go, now relax for Keegan alright?” You nod your head. You feel Keegan’s tip aligning with your ass. You’d be worried. If it weren’t for the drug, you’d be modest and shy away from what they’re doing. But as he fills your ass to the hilt with ease, the fullness you feel. You can’t even think straight anymore.

The pleasure you feel from them has you on cloud 9. Vision blurring, you can barely make a sound. Your lips are parted, eyes are blown wide as they start to move into you. A chuckle leaves Ghosts lips at your reaction to them.

“She’s feeling good.” He laughs. “Think so.” Keegan chuckles. You rest your head on Ghosts shoulder, turning to look at König. He’s pumping his cock quickly, he’s desperate too. You reach your hand out for him. He moves closer and you take him into your hand, pumping his cock. He gasps out, head tilting back. You can see them, all of them. More than just the color of their eyes. You can see their sharp jawlines, the small scars decorating their faces. You can see the curves of their lips, their stubble that needs to be shaved. You can see and feel all of them, and it’s too much. Your first orgasm is coming fast. Your thighs are shaking, your cheeks are flushed from the warmth moving through you. “I.. I’m so close.” You whimper. Your hand tightens around König and he hisses slightly. “Fuck.” He groans. You clutch Ghost hard with your other hand. “I-“ you freeze up. Body going rigid as you reach your first orgasm. You cry out, soaking Ghost’s thighs with your arousal. “Oh fuck.” He breathes, looking down. “Look at the mess you’ve made of me.” He chuckles. “Ah fuck- I’m gonna cum too!” Keegan pants. He grips your hips hard. Thrusting into you harder. He’s chasing after his high, using you to reach it.

He’s panting hard, moans getting more unsteady by the second. “Oh fuck!” He growls, teeth gritted as he cums. His thrusts are sharp and bruising as he rides out his high, stuttering to a stop against you. You feel full of him, turning to look at him. He grips your throat, kissing you hard as he slides himself from your ass. “Fuck-“ he breathes. He steps away from you for a second.

“I think she’s ready for you, König.” Ghost nods. Keegan takes a deep breath, relaxing back into a chair. “Does it feel like it’s worn off?” Ghost asks him. He nods his head. “Yeah. I think it’s only got her so worked up because she’s smaller than us.” He nods. “Probably, never thought about it like that.” You’re rocking your hips into him, desperate for more. “I’ll go make sure the rest is all clear.” Keegan finishes getting dressed. König replaces the chair on the door behind him before making his way back to you. Ghost slides you off of him and you mewl at the emptiness you feel. He chuckles at this, “Relax, just for a second darling.”

“Go to König.” He breathes. You nod your head, König lifts you up into him, swapping places with Ghost. He sits down, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I’m really big sweetheart, so don’t get too eager.” He breathes. “Schau mich an.” He raises your chin and you look him in the eyes. “Keep looking at me.” He presses his forehead to yours. You slowly sink down onto him, thighs shaking slightly. He’s big. You moan out, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you. Once he’s bottoming out in you, you can barely hold yourself up. Ghost has his cock nestled into your ass, like Keegan had. He was already so close. When they start thrusting, you can’t keep quiet. It’s so much, and König adds to it. Circling your clit gently. Sucking your nipples into his mouth. You being stimulated is what helps the l drug wear off. He’d do what he had to.

Ghost has a tight grip on your hips, his thrusts are getting sloppy. He hisses, feeling you tighten slightly around him. He’s right on the edge. He tilts your head back, tugging slightly on your hair. König has one of your nipples between his lips, sucking gently as he rubs your clit. Ghost kisses you hard, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. It’s by far the best he’s ever had. His body jerks hard as he finishes inside of your ass, pulling away from you completely. You moan at the loss of him, turning to look at him. “I’m going to go help Keegan.” He mumbles. He’s readjusting his cargo pants, buckling his belt. “Be safe.” You whimper. He nods. When he leaves this time, neither you or König are worried about the chair in front of the door. He lifts you up, turning around so that he can lay you on the bed. Smiling when you refuse to let go of him. “Relax, Ich gehe nirgendwohin.” He pushes your hips down into the bed, and looks at you. He’s not sure you’re ready for the force he’s about to use on you, but as desperate as you seem to be, he doesn’t think you’ll mind.

He starts at a fast pace, fucking into you hard. It only takes a few seconds and you’re nearly crying from how rough he is with you. His cock is big and you’ve never taken anything like the three of them ever before. You’ve got a death grip on the blankets beneath you, and you can’t stay quiet. He releases one hand, using it to rub circles into your sensitive nub once more, and that’s when you lose it. You’re sobbing when you finally cum again, raising your hips into him and flinching away from him when he continues his fast pace. “Doing so good for me. So ein gutes Mädchen.” He pants. He leans down to kiss you once more, his high is approaching too. The stimulation he feels is intense, you’re wrapped so tight around him, he just can’t take it anymore.

“Oh yes… yes so close.” He grips your hips hard as he slips over the edge, hips hammering into yours as he cums. You’re sure there will be bruises all over you. “Verdammt, so gut.” He cries. His thrusts halt, and he realizes he’s just filled you up with his cum. He sighs. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He breathes. You look up at him. Eyes feeling heavy as the arousal finally begins to wear off. You send him a lazy smile. “Don’t be.” You breathe. He slides out of you, groaning as he does so. He takes a second, panting. He’s trying to catch his breath.

He helps you get cleaned up, making sure to clean your skin if the mix of arousal between the four of you.

He wraps you up in a clean blanket. Lifting you up and carrying you back into the room this had all begun. He’s looking around for your clothes but can’t seem to find them. “It’s all clear.” Keegan nods. König nods his head. He places you down in a chair for a moment, picking up his hood and returning it to cover his face. Ghost and Keegan doing the same. “I can’t find her clothes.” König sighs. “I’ve got them.” Keegan nods. He passes them to König and he thanks him. He unwraps the blanket you’re in, helping you get dressed. You’re exhausted and weak, eyes getting heavy as he helps you. “I’ve got a sample of the drug and some paperwork. That’s all we needed right?” Ghost asks. König nods his head. “Yes. All in all this was a successful mission.” He nods. “Jedoch, this stays between us.” He laughs. Ghost and Keegan can’t help but laugh, even you have a tired smile on your lips. “Yes sir.” Keegan laughs.

König ties your boots, and returns the blanket around you, lifting you up with ease. That was one good thing about the massive man, he was strong. “Let’s get to exfil. We all need to be checked out.” Ghost says. Everyone nods in agreement. You’ve finally fallen asleep and König can’t help but smile.

This was going to be a day to remember.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town.  Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough. 

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners-  in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door. 

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve. 

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes. 

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.” 

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks. 

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up. 

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort. 

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead. 

“Hands off the girl.” He growls. 

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him. 

Probably smarter, too. 

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending  a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open. 

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward. 

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling. 

BANG. 

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.  

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms. 

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand. 

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks-  and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him. 

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan. 

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar. 

“‘Bout what?” 

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers. 

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

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y/nhamilton A weekend well spent😌😌

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y/nhamilton I coquettified him!!🎀🎀

lewishamilton take that picture down😡 y/nhamilton NO🫢 nicorosberg that's why you're my favourite Hamilton ❤️❤️Liked by the Author mercedesamgf1 why didn't we think of that?🤔 user5 I want a brother like Lewis🥲 user6 Lewis I get you ma brother, my sisters crazy just like yours😥 user7 she looks so perfect doing anything😫😫 user8 we love you Y/N. Never change for this industry🤣🤣 user9 user8 what industry? f1? user8 user9 she's an actor, she starred in a lot of movies and shows😀

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y/nhamilton Exhausted from all the promo but I hope you guys will enjoy seeing me in the new Netflix original

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y/nhamilton Rejuvenating my soul in Seoul

user14 OMG!! YOU LOOK SO GOOD IN A HANBOK❤️❤️ user15 That caption is bomb 😩😩 user16 I ran into her the other day and she was the nicest person and we took pictures and even gave her autograph🥹🥹 y/friend/user best girls trip everrrr🥹🥹 y/bff/user wanna go back!!!❤️‍🩹🥲

y/nhamilton followed rkive

gossippage

Liked by 1,287, 298 others

gossippage Dispatch Korea released pictures of a couple saying they are Y/N Hamilton and RM of BTS. The outlet says that they were spotted a couple times spanning months going in and out of RM's Hannam-dong apartment. The couple or their agency are yet to confirm anything

user17 obviously namjoon pulled her, I mean look at her😩 user18 you can't even see their face, it's utter bs😤😤 user19 they are grown adults, if they date then they date user20 I hope it's true, I wanna see Namjoon at races🥹 user21 it's funny how 7 time world champion's sister's dating some one who cannot drive🤣🤣 user22 I think it's true, RM just followed her🥲🥲

rkive followed y/nhamilton

y/nhamilton

Liked by rkive, lewishamilton and 2,456,973 others Tagged rkive

y/nhamilton All the time I spent with you was the best. I'll be looking out of the window wistfully waiting for my husband to return from the war😭

rkive I'll be back soon❤️ lewishamilton what do you mean husband?? 😡😡 georgerussell63 incase any one was wondering, Lewis is pacing the mercedes hospitality like a mad man nicorosberg he's a gent, we love him❤️ sebastianvettel he's so much better than the other guys you've brought home❤️ lewishamilton sebastianvettel there were others???🥲😤 y/nhamilton lewishamilton you act like I am 5😫😫 user23 y/n and namjoon dating was not on my 2023 bingo🫢🫢 user24 the boyfriend namjoon pictures are killing me😭😭 user25 she's us, waiting for our husbands*cough*JungKook*cough* user26 love the Hamilton siblings😂😂

rkive

Liked by y/nhamilton, uarmyhope and 2,370,290 others Tagged y/nhamilton

rkive My favourite person to take to museums

y/nhamilton I'm the only person you take to museums🤔 rkive y/nhamilton bc that's the only time you shut up😌 y/nhamilton rkive 😤😡 user27 he really said f u to the company, I do what I want😂😂 user28 this couple was made for us😭😭 user29 I'm living vicariously through them😭😭 user30 cutest couple ever❤️🥹 user31 ewww you ruined your feed for her🙃🙃 urarmyhope ❤️

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[queenpiranhadon]

𝙰/𝙽: This was actually really cute and really fun to write <33 This is apart of @pretty-sparkle-bomb 's Dynamight GZG event so go check out the other works once they're released!! Here's my masterlist!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): Nothing really, Bakugou experiences a breakup (not with you) pining, coffee shop AU, I don't think reader's gender is specified but it's written with f!reader in mind <3

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): CEO!Bakugou x Barista!Reader

Katsuki Bakugou wasn't a man for sweet things.

That was the first thing you noticed about him when he first came into the coffee shop.

The CEO of the well known company known as Dynamight, he came in to the cafe where you worked regularly with a pretty woman you eventually came to realize was his girlfriend.

They were a nice pair, and though you felt a little guilty for it, you couldn't help but check out the CEO himself. He had gone viral on the internet only a year ago for becoming one of the youngest successful entrepreneurs of all time, launching his spicy food globally. With striking red eyes, spiky hair that looked like it would be soft to the touch (not that you would, even though you really wanted to), and his voice, god his voice, you could go on and on about how husky and gravelly his voice was, deep and commanding, one could immediately tell he was a businessman just from his authoritative tone.

However, he was kind. You could see it in the way he always opened the door for his girlfriend, treating her with the utmost care.

They were the perfect couple.

From what you could tell, he was a man of routine. Because every single day, without fail, he'd order the same exact thing. Two medium iced americanos, one with milk, and one without. It came to the point where you'd always start off your morning by making said two cups before anything else, knowing they'd come by to pick it up anyways.

Until one day, he came alone.

He didn't order anything this time, instead just quietly shuffling into the booth he normally took with such a hollow expression on his face it pained you as well.

You weren't close, you and Bakugou, but seeing his gentle demeanor gone in an instant, replaced with such a cold and hard shell made your heart clench.

It was strange, though you felt fleeting moments of attraction for the man (you'd never overstep boundaries though, respecting his relationship (?) ) and yet, you...cared.

It was strange, you thought, how you frowned and told your coworker to cover for you for a few minutes, and this time, stepping out of the routine you were used to.

It was strange, not making the americano you were used to, now trying something new.

Thinking about Bakugou, and what you noticed of him from the past few months of daily coffee visits, you decided that maybe, just maybe, he needed something new too.

Adding a few ice cubes to make the coffee relent its hot temperature, you put a lid on the cup and walk over to his booth, placing it on his table.

"Here." you say softly. "On the house."

Bakugou looks up at you and blinks, surprised, staring at you as if he was drinking you in for the first time ever.

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to do, internally panicking that you overstepping your boundaries.

"You looked a little, uh...downcast? I figured getting something in your system might make you feel better." You smile gently. "I know it's not what you usually order, but I figured a change of pace might be nice."

Bakugou clears his throat and coughs out a thanks, under his breath. It's not much, but you feel your heart warm all the same.

You watch as he sips it gingerly, eyes widening as he tastes the sweet flavor.

"Is this...caramel?" He murmurs, surprised.

You swallow thickly, nervous. "Yeah, I made a caramel macchiato for you..! ...Do you like it?"

Bakugou smiles, a rare, genuine soft smile, as he clears his throat and takes another sip. "Yeah, s'good...m'not usually one for sweet things, but...I think yer right. Maybe I needed a change of pace."

You smile warmly and look back at your coworker, who's calling you over to help out in the kitchens.

You look back over at the blonde apologetically, his eyes still trained on you, nodding in understanding as you tell him that you're needed elsewhere, but to not hesitate to call you if he needed anything.

As you walk away, you don't notice the red eyes still trained on your retreating form.

Bakugou scolds himself. His girlfriend has dumped him only last night and now he can't get your damn smile out of his head.

When you return from the kitchen, you see Bakugou's booth empty, sans a $50 tip and a card that reads "Call me." with a number on it.

You can't help but feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, trying to tame your flustered face as you quickly pocket the money and card and rush back to your counter, now replaying your interaction with the man over and over in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't a man for sweet things.

But you? You might be the exception.

[lilacrwses]

▸ their s/o is drunk and doesn't recognize 'em

summary: Partying all night, dancing and definitely drinking made you drunk enough to not recognize your sweet boyfriend.

ft: iwaizumi, bokuto

note: i hope you guys like this, it’s been a while

Iwaizumi

Iwa just came back from a training camp overseas, so he was really tired and just want to cuddle with you.

Might he be forgetting that you were partying out with your friends so he expects that you won't be coming home early?

He did quite everything while waiting for you, cleaning the apartment-which by the way he realized that it was already clean enough on its own.

He took a bath, and would probably get in trouble as he used your favorite bath bomb without permission, but nothing a kiss can't fix.

Well, what he had to do next was just wait for you. The moment his phone lights up and recognizes his ringtone only for your contact- he rushes swiftly and answered it only to be welcomed by your friends voice?

"Iwaizumi-chan, hello! Can you pick up Y/n at XXX-XXX-XXX. She's pretty tipsy at the momeng. Don't rush though! we'll be with her till you're here." He gets his car keys and locks the apartment door before going out. "I'll be there in 5." He quickly presses the red button which ends the call.

Numerous thoughts were clouding his brain right now. Mainly focused on you and how tipsy are you.

In just a couple of minutes, his phone had told him to turn and then he'll arrive at his destination. No doubt that you were right there sitting out at one of the chairs of the club with your friends.

To say that you were cute doing nothing makes him realize how badly he's down for you.

"Iwaizumi-chan! Thank god you're here. She's been telling us how much she misses you, please take care of her from her." Iwa nods and gave a wave to your friends and then focuses his vision on your body.

He walked closer to your figure and helped you stand, but he was just pushed away. Dumbfounded he cooed you and tried again.

"If you lay your hand on me one. more. time, I promise my boyfriend will beat you into a pulp." he smirks and leans in closer to your face.

"Oh yeah? I bet you must love your boyfriend to reject someone like me huh." He plays along with the drunken act. "I love him so much that it hurts." He panics when tears came out of his eyes.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Iwaizumi cups your cheeks and wiped the stray tears away. You looked into his eyes and you noticed a familiar warm loving gaze that you'd been missing for a while.

"Are you my hajime? B-but he wasn’t supposed to come home till….tonight" You hiccup.

“You’re my haji!”

"Yes, baby. Now, will you let me touch you now?" You nodded and jumped into his arms right now.

"Ooof- Careful right there." He didn't hear anything but your cute little snores, he might be tired right now but having that little talk with you just gave him a bit-- a lot of energy in return.

Bokuto

This big ball of fluff was with his teammates for an after-party game.

You, on the other hand, are with your friends and are bar hopping. Expectantly Bokuto wandered his eyes searching for a familiar person, but none to be found.

He just thought that you are still probably having fun with your friends.

He reassured himself that a little bit over twelve is still early so here he is patiently waiting for you (even though there's a slight chance you'll never come) while still enjoying his time with his very own friends.

From the perspective of his teammates, it was odd to see Bokuto sitting in one place and not moving so much. Is it because of his drink?

The loud music of the bar made communication a tad difficult. However, Bokuto did not fail to hear his phone ring with the help of the ringing vibration, of course.

His face did lit up when he saw your nickname on his screen and almost took no time to answer the phone.

"My pretty baby! I miss you so much, What took you so long to call, I was waiting." Bokuto is now in his baby voice pouting, much to his joy it was actually your friend who called him and told him you guys were sitting from a distance to where he and his teammates were.

"Oh, thanks! I'll be right there in a minute." It might seem that Bokuto was drinking beer the whole time but it was actually just an orange juice. He didn't plan on getting drunk before he could pick you up.

Akaashi had told him it was not a gentlemanly move to be drunk and be taken care of his s/o. But to be completely honest, Akaashi just told him that so he could spare you handling Bokuto's weakness #12.

He finally saw where you were when he noticed one of your friends waved their hands to get Bokuto's attention. "Bokuto-kun, we're really sorry. She got pretty enthusiastic and got carried away." your friend scratched her nape.

"It's ok, I'll take her from here. Thanks for dropping by though."

Your friends bid goodbyes to Bokuto before leaving. Your boyfriend helped you stand up, you were blinking your eyes trying to see the person that's in front of you. The moment Bokuto landed his hands to your waist you pushed him enough to collide with another person.

Bokuto apologized repeatedly before directing his attention to you again. His thoughts start to bother him. Couldn't you recognize him? How many drinks did you take?

But He tried again, "Y/n baby, it's Kou. You're boyfriend." It seemed that his puppy eyes were enough for you to recognize him.

"Kou?" He nodded

"Yes! Yes, baby!"

You immediately jumped your way to Bokuto, and kissed him."You're my Kou!" He laughed catching you in his arms. "Now let's get you home." He kisses your lips before dropping a text to his team's group chat.

Akaashi was right! He should be taking care of you when you're drunk. Only because he gets to see this new side of you.

[hellbornsworld]

Jungkook Fanfic Recommendations(7)₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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☆ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 | Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook X Pastel!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Mugs & Kisses | Jungkook x Reader | Barista Au | Oneshot | @minisugakoobies

☆ simply meant to be | pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader | OneShot | @caelesjjk

☆ beside you | idol!jungkook x gf!reader | Oneshot | @nochukoo97

☆ Fragment of the Past | patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader | thriller & yandere au | Series | @ctrlsht

☆ burnout | basketball player!jungkook x student journalist!fem!reader | Yandere | @aikastales

☆ 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | Vampire! Jeon Jungkook X Human! (F) Reader | OneShot | @angllicjk

☆ angel in the marble | michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au | OneShot | @venusjeon

☆ love à trois | jungkook x fem!reader x jimin | Side: Jimin X Reader | @letjungcoook7

☆ you're losing me | jungkook x reader | Married Couple | @sparklingchim

☆ part time lover | investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader | Oneshot | @sketchguk

☆ STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME | Jungkook x fem!reader | Series | @hoseokieswrld

☆ cherry bomb | jungkook x fem reader | Oneshot | @retrievablememories

☆ your cursed thoughts | jungkook x reader | Halloween AU | Series | @smaubts

☆ UNWANTED | King/brother Jungkook × slave/older sister YN | @kangmoon27

☆ the seventh life | vampire!Jungkook x female!reader | @folkookie97

☆ champagne confetti | heartthrob!jk x fashion employee f!reader | @pennyellee

☆ Horizon | Angel!Jungkook x Reader | Two shot | @sokooks

☆ Whose idea was it, though? | Jungkook X Reader | @astayinwonderland

☆ First Prize | Boxer!Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @tsukisrants

☆ TERRITORIAL | yandere!Jungkook x Yandere Yn | Oneshot | @kangmoon27

☆ Movie Night | Jungkook x fem!reader | Yandere!JK X Reader | OneShot | @taevbears

☆ tethered. | emo!jk x reader | Series | @13lov

☆ gotcha | jungkook x reader | ChildhoodFriend Au | Oneshot | @whatifyoulivelikethat

☆ mate | alpha!jungkook x omega!reader | Series | @7deadlysinsfics

☆ 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Aged up!Jungkook X Younger!Reader | Series | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Slithered | Mafia Jungkook x Fem!Reader | Series | @bts-0t-7

☆ Self-Care Sunday | NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader | One-Shot | @shina913

☆ animal farm. | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @joonberriess

☆ November Sun | Jungkook x reader | OneShot | @oddinary4bts

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊

Jungkook Recommendation Masterlist

[heavenlyvision]

Begrudgingly betrothed

Word count: 23.6k

Pairing: Kuai Liang x F!Reader

A/N: It is done, I am sorry it took so long but as you can see, it is my longest fic so far !!! I may have gotten carried away but I am quite proud of this monstrosity of a fic so, please enjoy <33

Summary:  There has been arrangements for you to marry a good friend of yours and you weren’t included in the discussion, now you have to come to terms with wedding a man you don’t love, understand why you have been put in this situation and learn to enjoy leaving home and living somewhere new.  

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, virgin!reader, dirty talk, dry humping, thigh fucking, fingering, cunnilingus,  minor dacryphilia, tiny bit of size kink (if you squint), tease!Kuai, mentions of panic attacks, reader has both a mother and father, I think that is all !! <3

MDNI

This is… not an ideal situation for you. You have just been made aware, not asked, made aware, of the fact that you will be marrying Kuai Liang of the Shirai Ryu. It has been arranged between your family and the clan, and they both left you out of the conversation. To be fair, it could be worse, you know Kuai and have for a bit now but you did not foresee this coming. The shock of the situation and neglect to include you in the conversation is what has you upset the most.

Also, the fact that Kuai didn’t mention this to you at all? Is odd, you are close with him and you’ve always thought of him as your good friend, so to have him not bring up being arranged to marry him, at all… is upsetting and suspicious. But in the end, it��s not like what you think matters, considering this has already been decided for you and you’d really rather not kick up a fuss. It wouldn’t end well for you.

Picking your battles is smart, it’s a philosophy you live by and going against your father… is a battle you would not win, not this time anyways. You can tell, when he looks you in the eyes to tell you what is happening, he is not concerned with your feelings, he is only telling you the reality of what is going to happen.

At least it is not a stranger but somehow it’s not that much better, since Kuai didn’t tell you. You suppose, he probably has his reasons but you can’t get over being passed around like property, it’s sad, it makes you sad that your father is casting you off so easily and it also makes you sad that Kuai is, compliant with it, at the very least.

“This is something that will be happening,” your fathers voice is stern, even.

You look him in the eyes, firm, resolute, “I am aware and I will not resist but that does not mean I am happy, and I will not lie and say I am either.”

He is unmoved by your voiced displeasure, “You will do whatever makes this process go smoothly and you will do what you are told.”

You feel, so much right now but your face remains emotionless, unwilling to break in front of your father, “Fine but I am going to tell you right now, to me, this is unforgivable.”

Your father raises a brow at you, feeling no sympathy, “I do not need your forgiveness, I have done nothing wrong.”

He is unbelievable, so you tell him, “I hope one day, you will see how wrong you are but for now I will live with the fact that you have cast off your only daughter to be wed without her consent.”

“And I hope one day, you understand my actions and realise you are being a petulant child,” he retorts.

You ignore him and his rude statement, “If there is nothing further to be discussed, I would like to leave.”

He waves a dismissive hand at you, “Yes, fine, leave.”

Standing to your feet, you leave the formal dining area. He had asked you there under false pretences, you had expected a nice afternoon chat with your dad over tea and instead he dropped this bomb on you. After you shut the door, you head towards the garden, needing fresh air and solace to collect your thoughts. This is going to be a… trying couple of weeks.

The garden is quiet, you sit on an old wooden bench, looking out towards all the greenery. It’s a nice garden, your mother has worked hard on tending to it, the flowers are beautiful, at least they usually are. None of the flowers are blooming at the moment, dead or dormant for the colder months. It fills you with a sense of melancholy to know you are not going to see this garden as frequently after your marriage.

You’re facing the entrance currently and so you can see when Kuai Liang is making his way towards you. Normally, you would be pleased to see him but after the news you’ve just received, you are… maybe not unhappy to see him but certainly not excited either and he can tell as much when he looks to you, his demeanour sheepish as he approaches.

“I’m guessing your father has told you,” he says, standing in front of you.

You look up to him, “You mean that we have new tea?” you say sardonically before continuing, “Or maybe you are referring to the fact that I am supposed to be marrying you within the next few weeks, something that has been in the works for a couple of weeks without my knowledge and not only that but the fact that this will result in me having to leave my home and move somewhere unfamiliar, with people I do not know well?” Your face displays no extreme emotions but your tone is filled with threatening politeness.

There’s a few moments of silence, Kuai only looks at you, not knowing what to say to make this better and to be quite frank, there is nothing that will make you feel better at this current moment.

Your expression changes to a more easy going one, “Yes, he told me.”

Kuai sighs, “He was meant to wait for me, I wanted to speak with you first.”

“Well, that is where you went wrong,” you wave a hand at him, explaining, “He has to be the one to do things first, he was never going to let you tell me this.” Your father has an odd complex, he has the only say in things and he will be the first one to inform others of what they are to do. ‘Orders’ come from him and him alone.

Distantly, you wonder if he told you first because it will be the last ‘order’ he can give you before you are given away to another man. This is gross, it feels like swapping handlers, you feel as though you have no freedom and that all the times your father had told you, that you were so much more than just a woman, just a future wife, were lies. Like he meant none of it.

It feels as though, the relationship with your father will never be the same again and coming to terms with that is going to be hard.

You pat the spot beside you on the bench, “Sit down.”

“Thank you,” Kuai replies, sitting cautiously beside you.

It’s awkward between the two of you, mostly because you can tell Kuai has more to say but you won’t even look in his direction, which is making it hard for him to gain an opening to talk. It feels mean, but you know what else feels mean? Getting betrothed to a friend and not being told, even though he knew it was happening.

You sigh beside him, “Kuai, are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” he doesn’t hesitate in answering.

“What about you and Harumi?” You were pretty sure they had something going on between the two of them.

He’s looking at you, “What about her?”

Your eyes stay forward but you really want to look at him and roll them dramatically, “What do you mean ‘what about her’? Everyone was pretty sure you two were going to wed.”

He turns his own face forward, looking out to the garden, “We are just friends, nothing more.”

“Be honest with yourself Kuai, I don’t want to be the reason you miss your chance at love.” You feel empty, this isn’t how you wanted to marry and it will suck even more if Kuai doing this causes him to miss out on love.

He is unconcerned by your hesitations, his tone even when he speaks, “I do not feel that way, not for Harumi.”

“But you feel that way for someone?” He doesn’t reply, “My concern is still warranted then.” You finish, his silence a clear indication that he feels some type of way for someone.

He wavers for a moment, going to say something before deciding against it.

You talk before him, making yourself clear, “If you still want to go through with this, in spite of your feelings for someone else, then that is fine. I will do whatever is asked of me but I want you to know… I think you should marry the person you love.”

Kuai stands up from the bench, his back to you, “Your concern is noted.” Is all he says before he walks away.

You’re left in the garden by yourself, Kuai has walked off, assumedly leaving for the day, he seemed to be getting annoyed at your pushing. The mention of him not marrying the person he loves probably displeasing him, which is fair but he also has the power to stop this from happening. This is all very confusing for you, no one even told you it was happening and now it seems like both your father and Kuai are neglecting to tell you everything. Neglecting to tell you the things that would have all of this making sense. Typical men.

At least the air around you is fresh, cold, but fresh and it’s helping to calm you down. Both the conversations between Kuai and your father not going well has upset you but at least the cool breeze is relieving, it’s what you need to gather yourself before moving forward. You’ll just have to look on the bright side… which you will do, when you find out what the bright side is. Because so far there doesn’t seem to be anything bright about this situation but maybe that is just your bad mood talking.

You stay in the garden for a while, thinking about all the things that are about to change for you. The actual wedding won’t be for a few weeks but that doesn’t mean you get to stay here; your father informed you that you have one week left here and then you are to be moved to the Shirai Ryu village. An upsetting fact but you will cope, at least you will know some of the people there. And by some, you mean Tomas, Raiden and Harumi, everyone else is a stranger but it’s better than nothing.

₊ ⊹

When you head back to the house, everyone is waiting at the dinner table for you and by everyone, you mean Kuai is also sat at the table. He had stayed, apparently and now you have to sit through a very uncomfortable dinner with your mother, father and Kuai – your soon to be husband.

Sighing lightly and mostly to yourself, you move to your usual spot, sat across from Kuai, your mother and father sit at either end of the table. Judging by the atmosphere of the room already, this is going to be a long dinner.

Looking to Kuai, you can’t read much about how he is feeling. He is stoic and looks to be calm, but you can’t tell if he really feels that way or if everything he is feeling, is occurring internally. His eyes lock onto yours and you hold his gaze, wanting to challenge him, his eyes are unmoving and firm. You keep looking at him but you need to blink, you try holding out for as long as you can before your eyes start to water and you have to close them.

When you look back at him, one of his brows are raised humorously at you, entertained by your poor attempt at a staring competition. It wasn’t your initial intent to try and start a staring contest, only wanting to display your irritation for this situation but now you’re even more annoyed that you couldn’t get him to blink before you. You aren’t even convinced he’s blinked yet, weirdo.

Scowling lightly, you look away from him and down to your food. Your parents have been talking but you haven’t really been listening, all your attention was on Kuai Liang and his stupid face. Why he has stayed eludes you but you’re sure you will find out soon enough, it’s too late for him to leave now, he’ll probably stay the night and he’ll probably want to speak with you again before he leaves, presumably tomorrow.

“Are you paying attention to me?” Your fathers voice booms from the head of the table.

Your posture shoots up and your head flicks in his direction to look at him, you don’t know how to tell him you weren’t. He seems very angry, he’s never raised his voice like that to you before, his behaviour is starting to distress you.

Kuai speaks for you, trying to help, “It was my fault, I was distracting her.”

Your father is displeased though, you can tell by the way the corner of his eye twitches slightly and how his mouth pulls up, he goes to say something but your mother talks over him, “Now, I think that is quite enough, let’s eat and they can talk later, hmm?” She poses it like a question but it isn’t one, she’s telling him what to do right now and he concedes, like he most often does when it comes to your mother.

Dinner is silent and uncomfortable and you want to rip your eyes out of your head because this is the worst thing you’ve had to sit through. Last time you felt like this was when your parents had been arguing for weeks straight and then suddenly stopped, choosing to punish each other silently instead… which was somehow, way worse than the yelling and bickering.

You chance a glance up to Kuai and he’s already looking at you, his eyes are sympathetic to you and how uncomfortable you must feel but you feel worse for him. This isn’t his house or his family, it must be incredibly painful to try and eat dinner with a family that is currently annoyed with each other.

Taking initiative, you push back from your seat, “I’d like to talk with Kuai now, privately.” You squint at your father, frustration with him palpable.

“Thank your mother for dinner first,” he mumbles out.

Turning to your mother, you graciously say, “Thank you for dinner, it was lovely.”

“You’re very welcome,” she smiles and scrunches her nose at you affectionately.

As you round behind her chair, you kiss the top of her head before grabbing Kuai’s hand and tugging him off after you, he makes sure to thank your parents as he’s pulled along. You don’t look back and continue dragging him behind you, leading him to your room. It will be quiet there and you can maybe get some answers out of him.

“Where are you taking me?” He’s being pliant, letting you continue to lead him, even though he very easily could get you to stop in your tracks.

You try ignoring him but he tugs back a bit, showing you just how easily he could stop complying with you. Groaning and without looking back at him, you say, “My room.”

He stops all at once and your back collides with his chest. He doesn’t move though, not even taking a step back from you falling into him. He leans down behind you, mouth next to your ear, “Is that appropriate?”

His voice is deep and sets you on edge, a shiver threatening to run down your spine at the low timbre of his voice. You suppress it as best you can before turning your face to the side, both of you close like this. You thought he would pull away from you but he doesn’t, he doesn’t move an inch. His eyes are lidded as he looks at you, it feels like his gaze is burning through you.

Your head flicks forward, not able to handle the way he was looking at you just now, all the blood in your body feels like it’s rushed to your face. He pulls away from you, a hand landing on your shoulder. You gather yourself quickly and tell him, “It is appropriate, I have questions and you have answers.”

One of your hands grabs his from your shoulder and you walk off again, he trails silently behind you this time, letting you drag him around. His hand is very warm, warmer than before, he’d be handy to have close by this winter. You suppose that could be a bright side, you’re marrying a pyromancer in the middle of winter. It’s not much but the thought makes you smile.

When you approach your room, you open the door to let him in first and tell him to sit anywhere. You follow in behind him, shutting the door and turning to look at him. He is awkwardly standing in the middle of your room; he seems to be having trouble deciding where to sit. You watch him struggle for a bit, before he seemingly decides to just stand.

Laughing to yourself, you walk up to him and push on his chest, he walks back until his legs hit the edge of your bed, “Sit.” You tell him.

He sits down, carefully, eyes looking up into yours, “You are demanding.”

You roll your eyes at him and move across the room, when you come back, you’re dragging a chair you had kept in the corner. You place it in front of him and sit down, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes watch the way your legs move before looking back to you.

Kuai’s frame is still, not moving and very clearly not relaxed. It’s funny, looking at this large man sit uncomfortably on your bed. He shuffles a bit from side to side, trying to make the best of his situation.

“Do you want the chair?” You ask, taking pity on him.

He looks to you, “I am fine…”

You get up anyways and move over to him, offering your hand to pull him up. He takes it but pulls you down beside him instead, your outer thigh is pressed against his. You jostle against him a bit, the mattress bouncing lightly with your weight and the force of Kuai’s pull.

You pull your hand from his and gently slap at his shoulder, “What was that for?”

“I told you I was fine.”

“Whatever, go sit in the chair,” you huff out.

“No, I am comfortable here,” he says, amused as you sigh exasperatedly at him.

You cave, letting him do whatever he wants, “Fine.”

“What did you want to know?” He asks, redirecting the conversation.

Your posture slouches a bit, already wanting the conversation to be over, “Why didn’t you tell me? That I am to marry you?” you pause for a moment before continuing, “You have known for weeks now, I see you every week and have done for a while now. Did you not think this was something I would have liked to know about?”

He thinks for a moment, on how to phrase his words, “You deserved to know… but I did not have much of a choice.”

That confuses you, so you clarify, “In getting engaged to me?”

He shakes his head as he answers quickly, “No, no that is my choice… it was not my choice to keep it from you, your father decided that.” He doesn’t look thrilled by your fathers choice.

Your voice feels small, “You could have told me anyways.”

“No, I could not have. You are amazing…” he places a hand on your knee and squeezes,

You squint at him, “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

“But, you are… confrontational?” He sees the way you frown at him when he describes you that way and corrects himself, “Or maybe curious is a better word… you would have wanted to speak with your father as soon as I told you.”

Looking away, you mumble out to him, “If you were worried about my father… I would not have told him, that you told me.”

“It was important to him that I say nothing, he wanted to speak with you… well, together but I suppose he decided against that in the end.” He’s trying to be gentle with you, his voice warm.

Facing him again, your eyes are filled with emotions and you can’t help it, “I am still very confused, he… he never had any intentions of marrying me off.”

“All I can tell you is that he does now, I don’t know what changed for him but I had heard he was looking for… possible suitors for you,” Kuai’s face scrunches up in distaste.

Your voice shakes with your question, “He was going to marry me off to… anyone?”

“I am sure not just anyone… but he was looking, yes.”

Your eyes well with tears, not only are you being given away without regard for your own feelings but he wasn’t even going to… he wasn’t even going to marry you to someone you knew.

Kuai grabs the side of your face tenderly, forcing eye contact between the two of you. A tear slips down your cheek and his thumb rubs it away, stroking your cheek gently. “I know… I know you may be upset with me and maybe what I’ve done is wrong but I offered– I insisted that I be the one you marry.”

Kuai marrying you, Kuai asking to marry you, is a kindness. A favour he is doing for you, to prevent a marriage between yourself and a stranger and as upset as you are with him, you are more upset with your father. Especially since, right now it feels as though Kuai is your only ally.

Your lip quivers a bit, trying to hold back more tears. He shushes you and pulls you to him, his warm arms wrapping around your body and holding you close, keeping you safe. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, stroking it, attempting to comfort and calm you. You reciprocate his hug, wrapping your own arms around his frame and pulling him closer, he feels sturdy and reliable.

“It’s going to be okay, I have you,” he mumbles into the top of your head and you believe him.

He holds you until you pull away from him first, once you’re no longer worried about crying, you sit back properly and wipe at your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for… I know this is hard for you,” his expression is sympathetic to you.

“I just… wish he had explained his reasoning more, maybe then it wouldn’t feel so out of the blue,” you sigh out before flopping back on the mattress, tired from the events of today. Your forearm covers your eyes as you lay down.

Kuai hums out to you in mindless agreement but doesn’t say anything further, his lack of a real response confuses you and when you uncover your eyes, you see he’s already looking at you. His eyes move up your stretched out body, silently watching you.

“Kuai Liang,” you call out to him, louder than your last sentence.

The shock of your voice contrasted against the quiet room has his eyes flicking back to yours, “What did you say?”

Something occurs to you and you sit up beside him again, he’s surprised by your sudden movements, eyes widening slightly. You turn to him completely, one of your legs crossed on the mattress.

“Kuai…” you hesitate to ask him your question but he hums at you to continue, “Am I… are we going…” he raises a brow at you, confused as to what you’re trying to ask him, “Do we have to kiss? For the ceremony?” You finally manage to get out.

He stifles a chuckle at your question, “Not if you don’t want to, it’s not necessary… you know that.”

Your mouth pulls to the side, considering things for a moment. He is right, it isn’t necessary but now you’re a little concerned about your future and what it means to be married to Kuai, “I haven’t… I’ve not been kissed.”

“Ever?” He seems taken aback by your confession.

You huff out, “I didn’t tell you to get made fun of, Kuai,” You told him because you’re worried about later, you’ve not had a lot of firsts and if you marry him, you want to respect that, you won’t be looking at others while married to him. You’re just, you’re in a predicament right now.

Before you can convey your concerns in a sensical manner though, he asks, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You’re shocked by his offer, and also tempted. You suppose you aren’t really going to have many opportunities at intimacy after the marriage, not unless you ask Kuai, the thought has your face burning up.

You feel shy, “Do you mind?”

“Not in the slightest,” he assures you, “Though, if you want me to kiss you, you’ll have to ask for it.”

His words and demeanour set you on edge, his eyes are watching you very closely. Watching how you fidget, “Would you kiss me?” You feel embarrassed and very hot in the face but you add, “Please?”

His expression turns smug and it makes your heart skip a beat, “Since you asked so nicely,” he turns to face you properly and reaches forward, one of his hands grasps your face, the other resting on your knee.

He leans in but you hesitate and he holds still, “I don’t know what I am doing.”

“That’s fine,” His breath fans across your lips, “I will show you.”

Is he trying to kill you? He might kill you, his words and his proximity to you, it’s setting your skin on fire, “Okay.”

“Good,” he murmurs, before leaning in again. You don’t move away this time and he presses his lips to yours.

He’s warm and his lips are soft, you mimic what he’s doing. The kiss is light and tender, he seems to be feeling you out, getting a sense for you. Your hands reach out to him, of their own provocation and wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He hums against you, his own hand on your knee is gripping your skin tighter.

He tilts your head to the side, the hand on your knee wanders higher, landing on your thigh and squeezing there. The grip he has further up your thigh makes you gasp and he licks into your mouth, the feeling new and overwhelming. He’s overpowering all of your senses and an involuntary whimper is pulled from your chest at the way he’s kissing you.

He grunts back at you, his thumb pushes into the hinge of your jaw, forcing your mouth open more. Giving himself more access to you, he’s taking your breath away, kissing you dizzy. You want to rub your thighs together for friction but with the way you’re sitting, it’s not possible. His palm against your leg is hot and it keeps moving further up, now grasping the fattest part of your thigh.

A moan slips past your lips to his and you pull him closer to you, he groans into your mouth. The kiss is hot and needy now, borderline messy. He pulls back momentarily, only to push your back into the mattress. His form follows right after, holding himself over the top of you. His lips are on yours before you can form a coherent thought, his tongue in your mouth again.

His hand grips at your thigh, pulling it upwards and resting it against his hip, not moving more than that. You reach up and tug at his shirt, pulling him onto you, your leg crooks around his side and pulls his hips to yours. The contact has a whiney gasp pulled from you and Kuai fights every urge in his bones to grind down into you.

Your arms loop around his neck again and you get lost in his kiss, in the closeness of his body. He groans deeply against you, as if he’s in pain. The sound shocks you and you pull back from him, your foreheads resting against each other as you huff shallow breaths.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried you did something wrong, or that you’ve hurt him somehow.

He shakes his head against yours, “Mm fine, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice is strained.

You sit for a second longer before you realise what had happened and it sets your face alight, “I’m sorry,” you rush out.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He repeats, voice still strained, laced with lust.

You had grinded up into him absentmindedly, your mind dazed and looking for friction, resulting in you rutting up into him without thinking. His cock is firm and heavy against you, pulsing with need.

You go to apologise again but he puts his mouth on yours, silencing what you were going to say with a deep kiss. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on yours again, “You did nothing wrong.” He reiterates.

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, you have nothing to compare it to but you have a feeling that kisses like that are hard to come by. “You’re a really good kisser.”

He looks down at you, amused by your comment, “How would you know?”

“Should I find someone else to kiss? To compare it to?” You tease him.

His gaze is firm, “No, you’re going to be my wife, the only person you will be kissing in the future… will be me.”

The words are possessive, and you think if you weren’t so delirious from his lips on yours, you would argue back against him but at the moment, you think you’re okay with never kissing anyone else, “Okay.”

He smirks at you, enjoying the look in your eyes. They’re wet and needy and he’s getting a lot of pleasure from seeing you like this, for him.

His lips are shiny from the kiss you shared and you can’t look away, wanting so badly for him to put his mouth back on yours, “Can you kiss me again?”

He doesn’t move and only looks at you, “I can.”

A few beats pass by in the quiet room, the only sound you’re able to recognise is the rapid beating of your own heart pumping blood through your head. He still doesn’t move, just watches you, you can’t tell if he’s having an internal conflict or if he’s teasing you. It’s starting to frustrate you though, and to ‘punish’ him for his inaction, the leg you have around his waist pulls him into you harder. Grinding him down into you, the feeling has you gasping, your breath stuttering in your chest.

Kuai groans at you but he also frowns, his hips dig into yours harder and pins your lower half to the bed. He gives you dark look, “Don’t.”

You don’t reply to him, your chest moving quickly with your huffed breaths. He watches you and the way you’re breathless for him, the look on your face and the warmth of your pussy through all the layers has him salivating. He is barely hanging on by a thread, his sanity shredding the longer he has his cock pressed tight against you.

His forehead drops to rest on top of yours, his lips ghosting your own, you move to press your mouth to his. A light kiss, it’s only a peck, it’s all he gives you but you want so much more, you’re hooked on his mouth, drunk on his kisses.

You almost beg him, “Kuai, please–”

He cuts you off with his mouth on yours, his lips urgent and needy, the kiss hot and heavy. Your brain buzzes, lost in the way he licks into your mouth, at the way one of his hands grab the plush skin of your thigh, his other lightly gripping your neck; holding you steady for him. He’s kissing you how he wants too, deeply and fully, taking over all your thoughts, filling your brain with only thoughts of him.

You can’t help the way you throb with need for him, your leg gripping him tighter, wanting him so much closer even though he is as close as he’s going to get. He hums into the kiss at the way you’ve started to grind into him again, your own noises shared in the kiss, small whimpers and quiet whines that he swallows down. Greedy for the small noises you’re making for him.

When he parts from you, you’re both breathless again, your shallow breaths intermingling together with your proximity. Kuai is giving off a thick heat, his skin warm to the touch, his head ducks into your neck and licks you. Ending with a small nip to your skin, he rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and attempting to catch his breath.

With the way you move under him and the way your leg grips him tight to hold his lower half close, he is going to fall apart on top of you, his head full of depraved thoughts. Wanting so badly to fuck you into the mattress but holding himself back.

“Kuai,” you call to him again.

He groans into your neck, “Shh– just, I need a second.”

You’re confused by what he means, a moment for what? All you want to tell him is how badly you need him right now. “I want you,” your voice is small, as if being quieter will negate the fact that you didn’t give him the moment of silence he asked for.

His hips buck into yours involuntarily, “Fuck–”

A gasp is pulled from you at the friction, Kuai pulls his head from your neck suddenly, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are intense and you turn your head to the side so you feel less exposed to him but his hand grabs the side of your face and pulls it back so you’re looking at him again. He doesn’t move or speak; he’s just enjoying the expression on your face again.

His hips grind down into you and a small moan exits you, you’re unable to supress the sound even if you tried. Kuai’s thumb is on your chin, pulling slightly to ensure any noise you might make comes out.

He slowly grinds into you, the noises you’d rather he not hear slipping from you. You’re burning with need for him, pussy throbbing for more. His brows are pinched together, his breathing huffed, biting his lip to keep the noises that threaten to spill from him suppressed.

Your vision is blurry, tears in your waterline from how badly you want him to do more to you, your eyes pleading with him to just give you more. His hand moves from your chin and his mouth is on yours again, kissing you intensely, his mouth is hot. Everything about him is hot, his temperature so high he’s heating you up.

He rips his mouth from yours and pulls himself up completely, his hands removed from your body and resting himself up on his knees. You’re bewildered by the loss of him and whine, his eyes are on fire as he looks at you below him. Hands clenching into fists beside him, itching to touch you again, to touch your naked skin, to touch every inch of your body.

He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, “I think we should stop.”

“Why?” Your brows are drawn up at him.

He sighs, “You asked for a kiss and I delivered, we should leave it at that.”

You start pulling yourself off the mattress, weight held up on your elbows, “And if I want to ask for more?”

His eyes hold a warning for you, “Do not.”

You go to argue against him but there are loud footsteps walking to your room, ones you are all too familiar with. Your father is making his way to your room, you look to Kuai with wide eyes and he moves off the bed swiftly, adjusting himself in his pants and smoothing himself out. He’s trying to make it look like he wasn’t just dry humping you, while kissing you stupid.

Moving off the bed, you get to your feet in front of him, he smooths out your hair and clothes for you, his hand holds the side of your face for a moment and his thumb runs over your bottom lip softly. He’s caressing you gently, lost in you for a moment before your fathers loud knocks are suddenly heard on your bedroom door.

Kuai pulls away from you, coming back to himself at the sound of your fathers fist pounding on the wood. Walking around Kuai, you head to the door and open it slightly, enough to see your father but not enough for him to see Kuai further in the room, behind you.

Looking up to your father, you ask, “Yes?”

“I am looking for Kuai Liang, is he still with you?” Your fathers eyes try scanning behind you but there is nothing to see.

“No, he left a bit ago, maybe he is in the bathroom?” You offer as an alternative, trying to get him to leave and go the other way, away from your room.

He hums at you, considering you for a moment, “You know I love you right?”

“I– it doesn’t feel like it right now,” you tell him honestly, your trust in him completely shattered after today.

He looks tired, just so exhausted and like he might apologise, before his facial expression returns to its usual firm manner, “If you see Kuai Liang, let him know, I wish to speak with him.”

“Will do,” you agree hastily, hoping to end this interaction quickly.

He eyes you carefully and then eventually walks away; he seems to have so much to say but doesn’t know how to say it. It isn’t your job to force him to talk, though you might have to if you ever want to know his motivations behind all this. Whatever, it can wait until you aren’t a mess from Kuai.

Shutting the door, you turn around to see Kuai already moving for it to leave and find your father, “You’re going already?”

He pauses and turns to you, “Why?” And then leaning in close, he asks, “Would you like me to stay?” His tone is smug, expression cool and self-pleased.

You look away from him, “If I said yes?”

He sighs, hands coming up to rest on either side of your face, forehead leaning to yours, “I would like to stay.” He takes a moment, “But… I should talk with your father.” He pulls his head away from yours, still holding you in his hands.

Your face scowls at the mention of your father and Kuai’s thumb presses between your brows, massaging to release the tension. You relax your face but are still ultimately pouting at the prospect of him leaving.

He looks at you with a raised brow and you concede to him, “Alright, but try and ask him why it’s suddenly become so important I marry someone.”

“Yes ma’am,” he jokes, eyes lingering on you for a moment.

You aren’t sure why he’s looking at you so seriously but you understand when he leans in and kisses you so very gently, it’s short and only a little more than a peck but it makes your heart swell at how careful he is with you.

He hums when pulling back, “I don’t know if you have been told, but you’re expected to come back with me tomorrow.”

You’re taken aback, “I thought I had one more week?”

“I had asked for it but he changed his mind, earlier today.” He pulls back from you, giving you room to process.

You sigh deeply, feeling empty at this point, “Today has been too much, I’m not sure how to react at this point.”

“I’ll make you as comfortable as I possibly can, I want you to be happy there,” his tone is concerned, genuinely wanting you to be happy with him and with the Shirai Ryu.

You snark out, mostly joking, “I want to have, free will.”

“I will give you as much as I can manage,” he promises.

You tease, leaning towards him, “But kissing others–”

“–Is not on the table.” His tone is stern, expression unamused.

You smile at him sweetly, “I was joking, I will respect our marriage fully and completely”

“Fully and completely? And what exactly does that entail?” His expression is suggestive as he looks at you, subtly moving closer.

You feel nervous but can’t stop yourself from saying, “And if I said anything you wanted?”

“Then I would say, I’d like to test that,” His eyes are dark and lids low as he looks at you, not moving to touch you again but so obviously wanting to.

Your face grows warm under his stare, his voice has a lilt to it that sends shivers down your spine, “Didn’t you have to leave?”

He chuckles lowly at you before grabbing your hand and holding it firmly, “I want you to know… that I will be with you every step of the way and that you can talk to me… about anything.” He squeezes your hand once, in confirmation.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him kindly, “Thank you… and you know… if you ever have anything you need to talk about, I am here to listen.”

Kuai takes several moments to look at you, and then decides he’s been holding off on leaving you for too long, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You don’t really know what to say, you want him to stay longer but know he probably shouldn’t, “Yes, we will talk tomorrow, hopefully you will have more answers for me,” you jest, smiling up to him.

“Hopefully,” he squeezes your hand once more, assuring you that he will try to get more information. He leaves after that, going to catch up with your father.

And now, you’re left alone and wanting Kuai. You miss the weight of his body on top of yours, you’re also feeling confused about your feelings for him. He makes you feel warm and the way he kissed you has you wanting to obey his every will. But you are also confused about his feelings for you, his eyes seem so honest but he had said he had feelings for someone else just earlier today and now you aren’t sure what to make of that.

Maybe, you just need to sleep and move on from today, but currently, you are feeling better towards this marriage. Having spent some time with Kuai and spoken with him more casually, you feel better about things. Knowing he had good intentions behind his actions puts you at ease, clearly, since you just about let him hump you into submission.

It’s a little embarrassing that you were about to beg him to fuck you when you hadn’t ever been kissed before, let alone had sex but he has an effect on you that you’ve never experienced and even though you’ve known him for a while now, he’s never been this forward with you. Feeling desire for someone you consider a friend is weird right? You aren’t sure, you’ve never really desired anyone before, not like this.

There is too much swirling around your head. Ranging from, Kuai and his soft lips, his firm hands, his warm skin, his hips grinding into you, along with thoughts of his grip on your thigh, his eyes as he looked at you, his restrained manner of handling you. All your thoughts are currently of him… you need to sleep this off, before your thoughts become more depraved and you hunt him down and ask him so nicely to take you, right now.

Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to turn in for the night.

₊ ⊹

You spend said night tossing and turning in your bed, waking up every few hours just to roll over and be upset that you’ve woken up before an appropriate time, again. When you finally do fall asleep at some ungodly hour in the morning, you’re startled awake what feels like only a few moments later by knocking on your door. You groan out at whoever is there, not ready to get up, not when you had finally fallen asleep.

They don’t knock again, instead just letting themselves into your room, you peak a look and can see it’s your mother. Groaning at her again, you roll over, shuffling further into your sheets; you are not ready to start the day.

“Come on, it’s time to get up,” her tone is soft, trying to coax you out of bed with kindness.

Another groan, “I don’t want to get up, I am tired.”

She sits on the side of your bed and places a hand soothingly on your back, “You… you’re leaving today.”

“I know, Kuai told me last night,” you grumble at her, mood worsening at remembering the sudden change in plans.

Her hand rubs circles into your back, “I couldn’t change your fathers mind, I am sorry.”

It occurs to you, that your mother probably knows what has changed with your father to incur this sudden behavioural change. You shoot up in your bed and face her, “Why is he doing this?”

She hesitates, eyes sad, “He just wants the best for you.”

Your gaze scrutinises her, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I am telling you everything you need to know,” she replies, smiling at you sombrely before her face changes to a more enthusiastic expression, “Now, come on! time to gather your stuff.”

You flop back onto the mattress at her words, grumbling to yourself, you had forgotten that part of leaving would include… packing.

“It isn’t so bad, take your important belongings and some clothes, your father and I can bring over the rest after the marriage.” She pats your shoulder a couple times and moves around your room, looking for bags to put your stuff in.

Moving to watch her, you realise she’s trying very hard to make this easy on the both of you. Attempting to keep her expression easy and tone joyful but you can tell she is sad you are leaving home, especially so soon.

Sighing, you get up to help her, the least you can do is give her the same courtesy. You decide to offer her some words of comfort, “I will be okay you know? I like Kuai Liang, he is kind and I know some of the people in the Shirai Ryu already. I will adjust.”

She pauses what she’s doing and looks to you, “I know dear, I raised you well,” she flexes her arm at you jokingly, “Be strong and keep your head up. I know you will continue to fill me with pride,” She moves closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing once, “You always have.”

Her words have you fighting back tears, you don’t want her to see you cry, you replace the look on your face with a strained smile, “I will do my best.”

“That’s all you ever need to do,” She pulls you into her for a hug, holding you in her embrace for a moment. You aren’t sure which one of you needs this more.

When she pulls back, she claps her hands together once and rubs them, “Alright, let’s get stuck into this.”

Rolling your eyes and supressing a smile you ask, “Where should I start, boss?”

She chuckles at you brightly and directs you on where to begin. It doesn’t take all that long to collect your most important stuff and pack it away. Anything left behind today will be picked up at a later date and even though you’ve not packed everything away, your room looks significantly more bare compared to before.

Your mother stops and looks around, “Well, I think that is about everything you will need for now.”

“Yeah I think this is good,” you smile at her.

She heads for your door, “You still have a bit of time before you have to leave, maybe have a nap, you look very tired.”

Shooting her a light-hearted glare you say, “Wow, I wonder why.”

She just smiles cheekily at you before leaving your room, presumedly going to tend to her plants, the garden may be wilting but she has a greenhouse with copious amounts of flourishing plants and flowers. The winter doesn’t stop her green thumb and it never has.

You listen to her advice though and the first thing you do when alone is get back into bed, not even making it the whole way up, just sort of flopping onto it and staying there. You’ve made yourself comfortable now, there is no way you’re getting up, not unless there’s a fire or something.

A few moments of peace is all you get before there is another knock on your door, “Are you awake?” Speaking of fire, Kuai has come to see you.

You huff face down into the mattress and mumble out, “You can come in.”

“What? I can’t hear you,” his tone is amused.

Grunting you hold your head up so your mouth isn’t pressed into the sheets, “I said, you can come in.” Your tone is exasperated as your head collapses back onto the bed.

The door opens and closes behind you and Kuai stifles a laugh at your body slumped on your mattress, not even bothering to make it to the pillows further up.

“Are you okay?” He asks tentatively, a little worried you’re going to snap at him.

Your words are mumbled again, “Mm fine.”

Kuai moves beside you and flops down too, laying on his back, “I spoke with your father last night,” that catches your attention and your head turns to the side to look at him, “Don’t get excited, he didn’t tell me anything new, just that it was important to him and that it is what’s best for you.”

You scowl at him, unimpressed with your fathers answer, “He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“Starting?” Kuai asks playfully.

Your scowl deepens, “Whatever, leave me alone. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I wonder why that is,” he says smugly, knowing it has something to do with him.

Turning back to the mattress, you hide your face from him, looking at him for too long is becoming your weakness. You can’t help it, he’s the one who looks so kissable, you might need therapy or something, these cannot be normal thoughts to have for a friend. Though, making out with a friend is also not normal? But then again, he is also your soon to be husband, this is all so frustrating.

Suddenly, you remember what you remembered last night, he’s in love with someone else but is marrying you out of kindness. He’s preventing you from marrying a stranger because of his concern for you but now you’re concerned about his happiness. But if he doesn’t like you, why did he kiss you like that? Was he just… in the mood or was he in the mood for you? GODS! men.

You must be grumbling to yourself out loud without realising because Kuai laughs beside you, amused at your internal conflict, “What are you worried about now?”

Sitting up, you tell him, “You actually,” he raises a brow at you, as if to say ‘oh?’, “You said you love someone–”

“–I never said I love someone, you did,” he interjects, also moving to sit up and face you.

You retort back, “But you implied it,” he keeps his mouth shut this time, knowing you’re right, “I am just confused? Worried? I mean… we kissed last night–”

“–I think it was a bit more than a kiss,” he interrupts again.

You look at him and don’t hesitate to say, “…Right, well that kind of adds to my point then doesn’t it?”

“And what is your point?” He’s pushing you to say what you mean.

“If you stopped interrupting me I could get there,” your eyebrow raises at him in admonishment, “I am just… I guess I’m just confused about what you’re feeling… because you love someone else… but then you…” you look away from him, “…You kissed me like that last night and I don’t know how to feel… I don’t know how you feel.” Embarrassment is seeping into every fibre of your being, feeling really exposed at being honest with him.

He intakes a deep breath, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to.”

Turning your head back, you shoot him a pointed look, telling him that what he’s offered is not enough, “Kuai–”

He stops you before you get even more annoyed at him, “–I love you.”

You’re shocked and have no idea how to react to that, “I–”

“–I kissed you like that because I love you and have for a while now,” he’s looking right at you, unashamed by his feelings, “I am not expecting you to feel the same, I am only telling you so you worry less, so you don’t think I am the type of man who kisses someone like that for no reason.” His words are filled with emotion but also stated as fact, he’s informing you of his feelings, not asking anything of you in return.

You heart stutters in your chest and you look like a deer caught in headlights, he doesn’t need you to feel the same but his sudden confession has put the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You calm your nerves to tell him how you feel, “I am not sure how I feel towards you–”

Kuai doesn’t let you finish your sentence, “–I told you; I do not need you to–”

“¬–Could you stop interrupting me?” You look at him exasperatedly, getting tired of not finishing your thoughts, “I am not sure how I feel towards you but I know that I like you… more than a friend, and I wouldn’t have let you kiss me like that if I didn’t.” Your gaze averts his, looking anywhere but his eyes.

He’s smiling to himself, “You like me?”

“I mean… obviously…” you pout slightly.

He hums at you and moves closer, pulling you to his chest by the back of your head, he holds you against him, “I can work with that.”

If he touched your face he would be able to feel the way you’re burning up, his confession and your own making you nervous and embarrassed. This is certainly not how you thought the past couple days would have unfolded but as Kuai holds you to him, you can’t help but feel okay right now.

You snuggle into him slightly, your arms wrapping around his torso to properly be held by him, “I am still feeling uncertain about the future… but right now, I think I am good,” your words are mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

His chest rumbles under you, humming, “Whatever you are still worried about, I will be with you… every step of the way.”

Pulling your head back, you rest your chin on his chest and ask, “Promise?”

He looks down to you and without hesitation says, “Promise.”

His actions make more sense to you now and that fills you with relief, even if it also frightens you somewhat. Right now, is okay though, being held by him and being assured he’ll be with you, it makes everything okay… just for now, in this quiet moment between the two of you, everything is okay.

Raising yourself up, you push your face into his neck, feeling the urge to be closer to him, your arms also wrap around his neck. He pulls you to him by your middle, holding you firmly. You nuzzle into him, he’s warm and smells really good, he’s making you dizzy.

“You are really warm,” you breath out, words spoken into his skin. It almost feels like his temperature rises as you tell him.

His grip on you tightens momentarily, “You are torturing me.”

You don’t move from him, too comfortable and cosy to pull back, “How?”

Your breath tickles the sensitive skin on his neck and a suppressed shiver runs down his spine, a noise getting caught in his chest, he doesn’t reply to you though; choosing to ignore your question instead.

The sudden urge to cuddle further into his neck hits you but you don’t want to push his boundaries, so you start to pull away from him, mumbling out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I meant,” his hands move to hold your face, stilling you so you don’t pull away from him anymore.

Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest, Kuai is looking you over, eyes examining your face, flitting over your lips carefully. You want him to kiss you, especially since all your thoughts have been consumed by the memory of him kissing you, how overwhelming it was, how good it felt.

His thumb strokes high over your cheek bone, hands gentle with you and so warm, adding to the heat already resting under your skin. The look in his eyes is the same as last night, the way he looked at you just before your father knocked on your door, a little lost in you. He moves towards you and you prepare yourself for his lips on yours but he moves his head to your neck, nuzzling into your skin.

You feel a little let down at the lack of his lips on yours until you gasp at the way he has latched onto your neck, not sucking hard enough to leave a mark but enough to have you reacting viscerally to him – not that it seems all that difficult for him to pull reactions from you anyways.

He moves to another patch of skin, leaving open mouthed, wet kisses on your neck, nipping every now and again just to hear the small sounds you let out and the way you twitch against him. Your hands grab at his back for leverage and your head tilts to the side giving him more access. One of his hands grips at your flesh, fingers digging into your thigh and massaging, his other hand on your back, keeping you in place for him.

A sigh passes your lips at the way his tongue licks up the length of your neck, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling. He hums in satisfaction to himself at your involuntary reactions, enjoying every second of playing with you.

He pulls your shirt to the side to reveal your shoulder, his mouth kisses along it, giving the same treatment he gave your neck. Though, his nips last a bit longer, not afraid to leave marks where he knows no one will see, his teeth graze your skin and it has a small whimper leaving you. His chest rumbles with a groan, not quite reaching the air but vibrating through him all the same.

Your quiet whimpers turn into a surprised moan when he bites your shoulder, his teeth digging in momentarily before he retreats, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I got carried away.” His voice is strained, his mind clouded with the sounds you make, the feel of your soft skin, he’s realising slowly that maybe he should stop putting himself in these situations with you. Clearly, he does not possess much self-restraint when it comes to you, especially not when you are so willing.

“Don’t apologise, I don’t mind,” your voice is shaky, both from him and from your nervousness at admitting you liked it, you liked the way he’s marked you. The dull pain of his teeth biting your sensitive skin set you alight, your pussy throbbing for him.

He groans properly this time, his skin growing hotter against you, his hand on your thigh gripping for dear life. “Don’t tell me that, not right now,” his voice is still tense, fighting every urge he has to fuck your cunt with his tongue. Fighting the urge to taste every inch of your body.

You mumble out to him, “I like the way you touch me.”

“That did the opposite of help,” he grunts out, his forehead still resting on your shoulder, too afraid to move because he knows the look on your face will make him dizzy. His thoughts only filled with depraved images of you, of all the things he’d like to do to you and seeing the wet, needy look in your eyes… will break him.

You sit quietly and let him rest up against you, his breathing evening out slowly but surely. He seems to be trying very hard to be respectful but if you’re being honest with yourself, what you want him to do to you is anything but.

Taking pity on him, you decide not to push and instead offer him a way out, “Kuai, I think we have to leave soon.” It’s not a lie, you are both due back at the Shirai Ryu.

“I know,” he says, pulling his head away from you, he shuffles back a bit too, putting some distance between the two of you, “Again, I am sorry.”

“And again, I don’t need your apology, I said I liked it and I meant it,” you’re doing your best to be confident in yourself, “Now, let’s get going or we’ll be late,” you cement, moving off the bed and to your bedroom door.

He watches you walk across the room, a bit stunned by you, turning back you look at him and raise a brow, “Are you coming?”

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he replies, still sitting, you shrug it off and walk out the door.

You feel light-headed, the sensation of his lips and teeth still linger on your skin, you really would’ve liked to have spent a few more moments alone to see what he would do to you. He looked equal parts fucked and hungry and the thought of him taking you how he pleases sends a thrill through your bloodstream. It’s really too bad but you suppose you will have new opportunities to be intimate with him now that you will be living with him.

Kuai catches up to you eventually and you spend the little time you have left with your parents, going over last-minute things about the wedding and saying your goodbyes. You hold your mother for a long time and when it comes to your father, you would really rather not interact with him but you won’t be seeing him for a few weeks so you hug him anyways, as much as you are angry with him, you will miss him. Though, you don’t hug him nearly as long as your mother and there is an air of contempt surrounding you, directed at him.

Before you leave, you take one last walk around your house and the gardens, knowing you won’t be back for quite a bit. It’s not forever, you will visit but you’d like to commit as much of it to memory now, before you leave. Kuai joins you on your walk, keeping you company, he’s nice to walk next to, his body radiates warmth just to your left.

“You will be handy to have in the winter, I don’t handle the cold all that well,” you hum out to him.

He smiles to himself, “I will keep you warm.”

“I will hold you to that.”

When it is finally time to leave, your parents see you off and then you’re gone from your childhood home, starting a new chapter with your future husband. It’s bittersweet, mostly because while you are excited to embark upon and explore this new relationship with Kuai, you are also still feeling upset at your situation, at the choice that was ripped from you. But like your mother said, all you have to do – is your best, that is more than enough.

₊ ⊹

Being back at the Shirai Ryu is… overwhelming or maybe nerve wracking, mostly because you won’t be leaving, this is going to be your home now… Oh gods, this is going to be your home now. Your heart feels like it’s seizing in your chest and you grab for Kuai standing next to you, hand bunching into the side of his shirt.

He notices and leans down to you, “Are you okay?”

You look up to him, your eyes round, you’re panicking and you don’t know how to stop. You can’t find the words to express that, though. The only response you’re capable of is scared eyes and a shake of your head, this is all starting to feel so real.

“I have you, I’m right here,” Kuai pulls you to him, engulfing your frame in a hug, his arms holding you securely, “Everything is okay.”

The pressure of being held is helping to calm you but you’re still feeling frightened, “Okay, w–we should go…we have things to take care of,” you can’t help the slight shake in your voice.

“It can wait,” his chest vibrates under your ear as he speaks, “I’m going to keep holding you until you are ready.”

You focus on your breathing and trying to slow it, attempting to take deep breaths. With your head pressed to Kuai’s chest, you can hear his heartbeat, it is steady and calm, his breaths are deep and even and you find yourself matching them. His calmness helps to steady you, he’s such a sturdy person, you’re glad he is here.

Eventually, you come back to yourself but you don’t want to pull away from him just yet. Moving your face, you press your forehead into his chest, “Thank you,” you mumble against him.

One of his hands moves to your head and strokes the back of it, “Do you feel better?”

“Marginally,” you breathe him in, he smells nice.

He pauses in thought for a moment before enquiring, “Have you ever panicked like that before?”

You sigh against him, “Not for a very long time.”

Panic attacks are not something you are a stranger to, your memories of them very unpleasant but you had worked hard on yourself to get to where you are now. You’ve not had a panic attack this bad in a long time, not since you were younger.

“If you find yourself panicking again… look for me,” his hand tilts your head up, so your chin rests on his chest, “I will drop everything to help.”

You nod at him, confirming that you will find him, if need be.

Before you pull back, you lean up as far as you can and press a soft kiss to his cheek. When you step away and look at him, you think you see a small pink tint flushing his skin. You don’t get to look at him long though, he grabs your hand and walks you through the village properly, taking you to his home.

You’re familiar with his house, you like it, it’s homey and light, it very clearly displays that a man lives in it but it’s still nice. Kuai is a tidy person for the most part, only forgetting cups in some of the rooms he walks into, he has a bad habit of making a drink, taking it with him somewhere, placing it in that room and then walking out of said room without the drink. It’s endearing and not all that bad since he usually remembers at some point and cleans up after himself.

He leads you down the hall to his spare room, “You can stay in this room.”

Nudging his side, you say, “You don’t want to sleep next to me?” You’re joking, mostly.

“You are welcome in my bed anytime you want, dear,” he’s leaned closer to you, his voice low as he says it, suggestive in nature. Before you have time to be embarrassed and stutter out an answer, he moves back and pats the top of your head, “If you do want to sleep next to me, you are more than welcome, I promise to keep my hands to myself.” His tone has an air of humour to it.

“Thank you,” you mutter out, stepping into the room to place some of your stuff down.

Kuai also follows in, putting the rest of your bags on the floor in the corner of the room, “I know it isn’t much but I hope you will be comfortable.”

“It’s perfect, Kuai, thank you,” you’re being earnest, the room is perfect, it has everything you’ll need and that’s more than enough.

Something on the nightstand catches your attention, “Did you get that for me?”

He comes up beside you, “I did, is it okay?”

The big smile that breaks out across your face can’t be helped, “It’s more than okay, thank you,” you lean your head onto his arm, your fingers looping in between his.

He has gotten you a plant, a small but beautiful one, it sits in an ornate pot on the nightstand, right by a window. The plant is green and leafy, some kind of trailing ivy, your mother would know the genus, species, order, family, etcetera. She really is a plant genius and in a small way it has rubbed off on you, in the way that you love plants, you’re not nearly as scientific about it all.

Kuai thinking to get you a plant… it fills you with joy, he’s continuously showing you how much he cares for you and every time he does, it gives you pause, your own feelings for him buzzing under your skin. It’s only now that you recognise and understand, that these feelings are not how you are meant to feel for a friend, you hadn’t considered liking Kuai like that until you had wanted to kiss him.

Being able to recognise them doesn’t make it easier though, if anything it makes it harder, having all these feelings for him and not really understanding how to express them. It certainly doesn’t help that your situation is not exactly… orthodox.

Looking to him, you can’t help the mass amounts of affection you are feeling for him right now, “Kuai, I really do mean it… thank you.”

“It’s just a plant,” his eyebrows scrunch at you, equal parts amused and confused by your heartfelt sentiment.

Your answer is simple, “I know.”

Kuai squeezes your hand before leaving the room, giving you the chance to settle in for a moment. You unpack a couple things and put your clothes into the dresser, you don’t really want to unpack though and so, instead, you end up flopping onto the bed and star-fishing out across the mattress. It’s a nice mattress, not too shabby, nothing to write home about but it’ll get you a good night’s rest.

A little less than half an hour passes by and Kuai comes back to check on you, only to see you sprawled out on the bed, “Done unpacking, already?”

Looking to him, you complain, “It’s boring and I don’t want to do it.”

He raises a brow to you, “How much did you do?”

“Most of my clothes and a couple other things,” shrugging, you add, “What can I say? I packed light.”

He wordlessly looks down to your other bag sitting in the corner, completely untouched.

You shake a hand at him dismissively, “I’ll unpack as I use things.”

“I foresee that annoying you,” he comments.

Scowling, you bite back, “Guess what’s annoying me right now.”

He fights back a laugh and instead asks, “In that case, are you ready to see the others?”

“Come help me up,” you beckon him over with a limp hand.

He lightly rolls his eyes at you but moves to help you up all the same, one of his hands grabbing yours and pulling you to your feet.

“Why, thank you very much,” you joke, patting his shoulder as you leave the room, you can hear the exasperated sigh he lets out from down the hall and it makes you stifle a laugh.

₊ ⊹

You’re meeting Harumi, Tomas and Raiden in a small garden area, it’s not fairing any better than your mothers, everything either dead or dull. It’s cold and you really would rather be inside, you pull your sleeves down over your hands, your fingers needing the small reprieve from the cold.

When you see Tomas he immediately pulls you in for a hug, happy to see you for the first time in a while, “It has been too long, how have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” you chuckle against him.

The hug lingers for a bit and Kuai clears his throat lightly from behind you, Tomas pulls away quickly at the sound. His hand lands on your head and pats you, “It will be nice having you here,” his smile is kind.

You appreciate his compassion, “Thank you, Tomas.”

Raiden moves in for a hug next, holding you and telling you lowly, so only you hear, “If you need anything, we are here for you.”

Pulling away you give him a look to convey gratefulness but don’t say anything verbally. Kuai moves to stand closer to you, his side brushing yours at how close he chose to stand. You appreciate it, the warmth is already radiating off him and you shuffle the tiniest bit closer to him, seeking more of his warmth.

Before you have a chance to make a note of Harumi’s absence, you hear her voice calling to you all, “I am here! Sorry, I got held up.” She moves in to hug you quickly, “It’s good to see you.”

You smile politely at her, feeling uncomfortable, from the cold and also from her, Kuai may not love her but you don’t know how she feels, “It’s good to see you, too,” you echo her sentiments.

Everyone starts chatting to one another, talking about their days and such, you really would like to listen but the cold is creeping into your veins and you feel like you might start shaking soon. Kuai must notice because he leans down to you, “Cold?”

“Very,” you press out, tone strained from the chill in your bones.

Kuai’s hands grab either side of your arms and rub up and down, trying to help warm you, “I think we should head inside,” he announces, “Tomas, is your house clean?”

Tomas looks up and away to think on it for a second before Raiden intervenes, “I cleaned earlier.”

Tomas turns to Raiden to thank him, but you don’t hear the rest of their conversation, Kuai has already begun walking the pair of you in the direction of their house, wanting to get you inside as soon as possible.

“You should wear more layers,” he notes.

“Maybe I wasn’t expecting to stand out in the open,” you huff out in reply.

You make it to Tomas’ house but the others haven’t caught up to you yet, so now you’re just cold in a different area. You move from foot to foot, trying to keep moving, hoping the movement will warm you up. Kuai watches on, amused by your fidgeting.

“This is your fault,” you grumble, “Fix it.”

He looks at you with a supressed smile on his lips and a puzzled look on his face, “And how am I meant to do that?”

“I don’t know! Warm me up… give me a hug or something,” you’re being a bit dramatic but you’re really cold.

He breathes out a small laugh but does hug you, his arms wrapping around you fully, holding you close to him. He’s so warm, in his arms is so much nicer than in the cold. You nuzzle into his chest, humming in contentment, “You’re so warm, so nice,” you mutter out against him.

A hand moves from your back to the side of your face, his palm warming your cheek, “Your face is very cold, you weren’t lying about not handling the cold well.”

“I would not lie about something like that,” his palm is large against your face, you close your eyes and lean into it, savouring his heat.

You don’t see him move but you feel his lips against yours, the warmth and sudden contact makes you gasp in slight shock. His lips aren’t being demanding, he’s being tame right now. The kiss is still enough to make you dizzy though, warm and full, you think maybe he just makes you feel like that. You kiss him back earnestly, your hands tugging at his chest.

As much as you want it, he doesn’t kiss you any deeper, not willing to risk being seen by the others in such a state. He also wants to kiss you more; he wants to see the look on your face after he kisses you stupid, he just doesn’t want the others seeing it too.

When he pulls back, he says, “Your lips also looked cold.”

“Dumb,” you retort, pressing your forehead to his chest again.

You can feel his quiet laughter move through him, “Did it help?”

“…Maybe.”

You don’t wait much longer for the others, you half expected Kuai to remove you from him when they got within eyeshot of you both but he doesn’t, he lets them see how he’s holding you, how you’ve latched onto him.

Tomas asks, “Are you okay?”

“Mm fine, jus cold, lemme inside,” you grumble out at him, words muffled by Kuai’s shirt.

When the door is finally opened you’re the first inside but you are disheartened when you realise it’s still cold in here too, “Why is it so cold in here?” You whinge out.

“It is not that bad,” Raiden comments.

“You’ll warm up,” Harumi laughs lightly, patting your shoulder on her way past you to the kitchen.

Tomas apologises to you with his eyes but you turn to Kuai and point at him, “Come here.” He pretends to be apathetic towards you, stoically moving to your side, “Just stay close by, please,” you ask, giving him your best and prettiest begging look.

“Mhmm,” he agrees easily, his expression extremely self-satisfied, loving how this has all been playing out.

Your hand reaches for his, trying to be as slick as possible, not really wanting the others to make comments on it. Kuai easily grabs your hand when he realises what you’re attempting to do, not bothered by the others and only really wanting to keep you comfortable. His large hand is heated and comfortable and while it doesn’t warm your whole body instantly, it sure does help a whole lot, his closeness is making this cold bearable.

The afternoon is spent all together, drinking tea and chatting, seeing everyone is nice, it’s been a while since you’ve spent some time with them and you had missed it. Kuai makes sure to stay close the whole time, just like you had asked him to, he truly does radiate heat. You think maybe he’s raising his own temperature just to keep you comfortable; you’ll have to remember to thank him for it later.

At some point, Kuai gets up to grab you another drink, you had told him you were fine but he was already standing and walking into the kitchen. Now that he had finally detached from you, everyone focuses their attention on you. Suddenly, you’re feeling very nervous under their eyes.

Tomas breaks the quiet, seemingly voicing what they all want to say, “What’s going on between you and Kuai?”

You don’t really know how to answer that, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Are you two actually together now?” Harumi clarifies for you.

“We know he is marrying you because of your father,” Raiden adds.

Tomas directs his attention to Raiden, “Not just that, he loves her–”

Harumi gives Tomas a look, scolding him wordlessly for outing Kuai’s feelings for you.

The cold may not be a problem anymore, not with all the heat in your cheeks. You don’t answer straight away but your lack of a reaction to what should have been a bomb drop gives away your knowledge of Kuai’s feelings for you.

Harumi points at you, grinning, “You already know.”

“What? How did you know?” Tomas asks, surprised.

Raiden’s expression is unamused and sympathetic, feeling bad for you at their prying, “You do not have to answer, it is between you and Kuai.”

Tomas agrees with Raiden, “Yes, but also…” he leans in closer to you, over the table, “Tell us.”

You change your expression to an unreadable one, completely stoic as you lean in closer, “He told me.”

When Kuai walks back into the room, your drink in hand, he sees you and Tomas leaning in closer to each other across the table, he raises a brow at the pair of you, “What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” they all chime out together.

You say nothing though, silently sitting back in your chair, Kuai moves to his seat next to you, sliding your tea across the table and then looks at you, waiting for you to tell him. Glancing around the table, you can tell Tomas is silently begging you not to tell him.

You turn to Kuai and smile, thinking of a lie to cover up the reason you were leaning over the table, “I was winning a staring contest against Tomas.”

“I doubt that,” he replies quickly.

Now you’re offended, “And what do you mean by that?”

“If you are going to lie, learn to do it well,” he teases.

“I can lie well,” everyone grumbles in disagreement and you gasp in faux hurt, “I can,” you insist.

“You really can’t,” Raiden says.

You frown at him in response.

“It’s only because you do not lie often, you are confrontational…” Harumi adds, her words trailing off when she looks to Kuai and see he’s shaking his head lightly at her, informing her of her poor word choice.

“I am not confrontational,” you pout out.

Tomas tries placating you, “Of course not, you are just… direct?”

Kuai changes the topic and places a hand on your shoulder, “Anyways, if you were going to pick a lie, you should have picked a believable one, you are very bad at staring contests.”

You look at him and scowl, squinting your eyes at him in anger, “I am not going to say anything because I am not confrontational.”

Everyone at the table is immensely amused by the way this has all unfolded, wearing smiles while you sit with your arms crossed, slightly annoyed at being called confrontational… again.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Kuai insists, a hand moving to pat your head, stroking you in an offer of comfort.

Everyone at the table agrees, trying to make you feel better.

Even though you disagree that you’re confrontational, it’s nice to be amongst friends. You let go of being upset pretty easily, mostly because you weren’t all that upset in the first place, you know they were just joking around.

Both you and Kuai don’t stay much longer after that though, leaving back to his house after another hour or so passes, it was good seeing them, you hadn’t realised how isolated you had been feeling at home until you spent some time around friends. Being here might be a good thing.

₊ ⊹

The night is cold and it’s keeping you awake, the blankets you have are not enough to stop the chill from creeping in or the shivers that run through your body. You think back to earlier today when Kuai offered his bed to you but you feel hesitant to take him up on it, that would be weird right?

Another shiver shakes your body and you decide you don’t care, you are cold and he is a fucking furnace, you are getting into his bed. You move quickly, not wanting to give yourself time to change your mind and also not wanting to feel the cold for too long.

You make it to his room, your footsteps rushed and quiet, you walk up to his side of the bed. Your hand goes for his shoulder, wanting to gently wake him but before you have a chance to call his name and shake him lightly, his hand shoots out and grabs yours.

It startles you and makes you jump, “Geez, sorry–”

“–Are you okay?” He questions, sitting up quickly to check you over.

You’re still shivering, the cold so much worse without a blanket on top of you, “I–I’m fine… never mind, don’t– don’t worry about it,” your words are stuttered slightly, your teeth chattering, “Sorry for wake–waking you, I am going back to bed.”

He frowns sleepily at you, his hand still holding yours, “You’re cold,” he observes.

Another shake wracks through you and he grumbles disapprovingly at it. His hands grab you, pulling your body to his, taking you with him as he lays back in the bed, before rolling to his side. You are laying down facing each other now, his warmth already so welcome. He grabs the blanket, bringing it up around you properly and then he’s shuffling closer, an arm slinging over your side.

His heat makes you hum, “Thank you.”

He only mumbles his response, mostly sounds and not really words. You press your body as close to his as possible, your cold feet tangling with his and he grunts at it, “Why are you so cold?”

“Because it is a cold night,” you mutter out, “We do not all have magical fire powers.”

“You going to be in my bed every cold night?” His voice is thick with sleep, eyes closed.

Pressing your head to his chest, you answer, “If it bothers you, then no.”

“It does not bother me,” his response is quick.

“Kuai?” he hums at you, telling you he’s listening, “Did you make yourself warmer today? When you were next to me?”

He’s quiet for a few beats, “…Yeah, I did.”

“Thank you.”

“You thank me a lot,” he comments.

“You do a lot of things that I am grateful for, I do not know how else to express that,” you sigh, your body finally relaxing, Kuai’s heat finally removing the chill that had settled into your bones.

Kuai holds back from saying the first things that enter his mind, his sleep addled brain immediately thinking of suggestive ways you could thank him, “You don’t have to thank me for the things I choose to do for you.”

“Of course I do,” you’re resolute in your reply because of course you do, who wouldn’t thank someone for their kindness, “Are you saying, that if I were to do something out of the kindness of my heart for you, you would not thank me?”

He immediately disagrees, he would thank you for anything you did for him, “No–”

“–Then why would I not thank you?” You cut him off, already knowing you have won and made your point.

“Just go to sleep,” he grumbles.

You laugh lightly, happy with your victory.

The conversation naturally dwindles though and you find yourself slipping into unconsciousness. With Kuai keeping you warm all night; it is probably one of the most pleasant slumbers you have had in a long time.

₊ ⊹

The past week has been good, you have been a bit home sick, longing for your mothers cooking and company but you have been settling in okay. The days aren’t boring, you have the company of Tomas, Raiden and Harumi. Most often, you have been with Raiden, he seems to have more free time so you spend the day with him more than the others, he is nice company. Though he is quiet and you feel annoying when you talk too much. Sometimes, leaving the interaction wishing you had just been quiet instead.

Kuai has been good to you, he has cooked for you a bit but you have also cooked some nights. Mostly because he is not the best at cooking, you are not going to tell him that though. You’re appreciative of everything he has done to help make you comfortable, you are not about to tell him that his cooking is not good. Because it is okay, it is edible, it’s just not… yummy.

He’s been out today, you would have gone with him but it’s too cold for you, even with him by your side. Some days you can bear it but not today, no, instead you have had a hot shower, like as hot as you could make it without burning yourself. Which you love, the hot showers help with the cold so much but with the cold air, you’ve been worried about your skin drying.

It’s annoying to do but you endure the cold so you can rub moisturiser into your skin, this isn’t so bad and quite pleasant in almost any other season but standing in only a robe with panties underneath, a leg up on the bed, rubbing moisturiser into your skin, during winter… is fucking freezing and you just wanna rug up and get warm.

You don’t even hear Kuai get home, not until he’s standing in your door frame and almost choking on his spit, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” he turns around, arguably not as quick as he could, eyes lingering on your leg perched atop the bed.

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s fine, I’m only moisturising,” you dismiss, not really all that bothered by him seeing you like this. Though, you did think there was more time until he got back, you would have closed your door if you knew he was going to be home soon.

He turns back around, now that he knows you are fine with his presence and moves across the room to you, “How was your day?”

“Mmm, it was fine… cold, I was alone for most of the day though,” your hands rub at your thigh, massaging the cream into your skin.

Kuai’s voice sounds a little distant, “You did not see Raiden today?”

You only realise why he sounds so distracted when you look to him, his gaze set on your leg, intently watching the way your hands massage at your thigh, “If you like watching so much, why don’t you do it for me,” you joke, not really meaning anything by it.

“I will,” he replies quickly, eyes flicking up to lock on yours, “If you let me.”

Your brows upturn at him, a little confused by his eagerness but it’s not like you’re having fun doing it yourself, “Okay.”

He rounds the bed, moving in front of you; your leg comes down and he lowers himself onto the mattress, tapping your thigh once he’s sat, asking you to put it back up. You do, your foot resting on the bed again, right next to him. You were not expecting this position and it feels incredibly revealing.

He grabs the moisturiser off the bed and pumps some into his hand, eyes looking to yours to check if you’re really okay, before beginning to rub it into your calf. He starts lower on your leg, fingers pressing into your muscles, moving up and down. Eventually, he drags his palms up your leg, reaching your thigh, his fingers grip and pull at the skin and muscle, his hands travelling high up, the pressure feels good.

His hands are warm, the cold not a problem anymore, not with how he’s warming you, not with how intimate this feels, you honestly were not expecting this to feel so… arousing. The higher his hands travel the more your skin heats, seemingly Kuai is having the same problem, his hands growing hotter against your skin the more he rubs the moisturiser in.

Once it’s been absorbed, he asks you for your other leg, which you give, swapping sides for him. His eyes don’t leave your lower half, very carefully watching your thighs, you remember in the back of your head how much he seemed to like gripping your thighs while kissing you.

This time it looks like he’s grabbed more moisturiser, “Kuai, that’s too much, it will take forever to rub in.”

“That’s fine,” he mumbles out.

You insist, “No seriously, my leg can only get so moisturised.”

His eyes look up to yours, “I will find somewhere else to put it,” his eyes drag down your torso with his words, the implication causing blood to rush to your face.

He starts with your calf again, the product slipping all over your skin, he really had grabbed too much. It doesn’t stop him though, his hands move up to get it on your thigh and then his hands are rubbing into your skin again, trying to get it to rub in. Even though there is a surplus of product on you, he persists, massaging you the same as before. It feels good and as he rubs into one spot on your thigh, a small, gasped whine passes your lips.

His fingers are firm as they dig into you, his hands traveling higher again, the sounds that slip from you can’t be helped. You do supress them as much as you can, mostly stopping them in your throat. Kuai pushes all the moisturiser on your calf to your thigh before tugging you to sit in his lap.

You gasp lightly, surprised, “What are you doing?”

“Too much product, going to put in on your other thigh,” he states, his hands rubbing your other thigh again.

The way you’re straddling him is even more exposing than the position you were in before, the lower half of your robe split open now, your panties completely revealed to him. Luckily, your upper half is still covered, you might have fainted if he had your tits in his face while he massaged your thighs.

Kuai is very focused on your thighs though, his hands digging into both of them at the same time, massaging your inner thighs. You’re sensitive where he’s touching, especially like this, your hands hold onto his shoulders, repressed whines getting stuck in your throat. Your thighs twitch under his hands, he moves them further up, all the way to your hips. His hands slip under either side of your panties and rub into the skin of your hips.

Most of the product is absorbed now but Kuai’s hands still travel up and down your thighs, he’s setting you on the edge, his hands exploring you have you almost shaking on top of him. You’re so aroused at this point, pussy wet and needy and he’s only been massaging you.

He still doesn’t stop touching you and you end up pulling his head back by his hair, making him look you in the eyes, “Kuai, please.”

The look in your eyes makes him groan, he hadn’t realised how much of an effect he’d been having on you, mostly touching you for his own enjoyment. He pulls you to him so that you’re sitting in his lap, you twitch and pant at the feeling of his hard cock against your covered cunt.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “Got distracted.”

“Not that, I’m really wet now,” you tell him, not caring for apologies, instead wanting him to do something about it.

He moans at your confession, his hands gripping your thighs harder, his eyes dark and lustful.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse, accurately. “Fix it.”

“And how am I meant to do that?” He smiles cockily up at you.

You decide to snark back, “Are you worried you won’t be able to make me cum?”

His smile doesn’t falter, not falling for your bait, “Yes, I am, why don’t you show me how you do it?”

“Kuai, please,” you plead with him instead, eyes begging him to do something to you, “Do whatever you want to me just– please do something.”

“Whatever I want?” He checks and you nod your head, “And what if I want to do nothing? Leave you a needy mess like this? Then what?”

“Then I will cry,” you answer and you wish that upset him but he seems to be even more pleased at that comment, “You are mean.”

“I am not, you’re just soft,” he retorts.

You grind your hips down into his lap, your pussy rutting against his cock, he chokes on a sudden moan and grips your hips, stopping you from moving.

“Now who is mean?” He asks, voice strained.

“Still you,” it’s grumbled out with annoyance, you’re becoming sexually frustrated.

You decide to try and be meaner, one of your hands leaving his shoulder and dipping into your panties, running through your folds, when you hit your clit you moan and twitch atop of him. His eyes are watching you, small groans vibrating in his chest.

You pull your hand away from your pussy, showing him just how wet you are, fingers coated in your slick. His immediate response is to grab your hand and shove your fingers into his mouth, licking them clean, his mouth hot. You whine at him, he’s officially back to being meaner than you. You feel like a big mess, wet, sticky, needy– downright desperate for him.

He removes your fingers from his mouth, tongue licking at them a final time before pulling away, “That was mean,” he blames.

“Please, Kuai, I will take anything– just make me cum,” you’re back to begging.

He smiles evilly at you, “No.”

“Why not?” Your eyes actually well with tears, threatening to spill.

He holds the side of your face and coos, “Because having you wet and needy on top of me, is really doing it for me.”

“You are evil,” you pout at him.

“You seem to like it,” he’s still smiling at you, like he’s got you in the palm of his hand… and at the moment he does, if he’ll promise to get you off, you’d do just about anything.

He pulls your face to his, lips locking with yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue licking into your mouth, his warmth overwhelming you. His hand on your thigh digs in, holding you firmly. You moan into the kiss, your hips trying to grind down into him again, succeeding marginally. He gasps against you and lets you rut down. Enjoying the friction himself, just as aroused as you are, just better at hiding it. His cock twitches in his pants and you whine into the kiss, wanting so badly to be filled by him.

He pulls away from you, something occurring to him, “Has anyone ever made you cum?”

You’re panting against him, “I hadn’t even been kissed Kuai, take a guess.”

A large smile breaks out across his face, ecstatic at the fact that he’ll be the first person to make you cum, “Mmm, I will make you cum then.”

You perk up, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll have you cumming in your little panties for me,” he says it easily but the words embarrass you just as much as they arouse you.

His hands grip either side of your hips and begin dragging you up and down his covered cock, the head of it catching on your clit and making you keel over, your head landing in the crook of his neck, hands holding his shoulders.

Your hips help, moving back and forth with his pace, the friction delicious, it has you salivating for him. He’s gasping out groans under you, enjoying this just as much as you are. He moves his hands to your thighs, spreading you wider on him. His grip stays on your thighs, obsessed with them, with their softness.

You press a light and wet kiss to the skin on his neck, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine, his cock jumping against your cunt. His hands are hot against your thighs, the heat radiating off him suffocating. You muffle your moans into his neck, embarrassed by how whingey and desperate you sound.

Your panties are completely ruined, so slick they’re stuck to your cunt and slipping against the fabric of Kuai’s pants. He pauses for a moment and you whine against him, he shushes you in response. He only stopped to pull his pants down, still in his boxers but wanting less layers between you.

When your pussy comes back into contact with his covered cock, he groans out loudly, mind drifting far from him, if he thinks too hard about how wet you are or how desperate you are for him, he might end up fucking you stupid tonight.

He begins grinding you down into him again, losing his mind at the new feeling, of how much better it feels without his pants on. Without the extra layer, his cockhead catches on your pussy hole through your panties and he groans like he’s been gut punched. You wiggle down on him, seeking penetration that won’t happen, not with all the layers.

You sob into his skin, so horny and wet, you’re drooling onto his shoulder and neck, saliva coating his skin. He keeps rutting you down on top of him, desperate to have you cumming for him. His mind only filled with how you must sound when you finish, how you’ll sound moaning his name.

You can’t think of anything, only thinking of his cock rubbing through your folds and catching on your clit. Every other thought you might have, dying before you are aware of it. You’re shaking against him, getting close to your end, your stomach tensing, cunt fluttering around nothing. Your whines breaking off into nothing, choking on all the sounds you want to make for him.

Kuai notices, “So close aren’t you? Fuc–”

He gets cut off by you biting him, your teeth digging into the skin on his shoulder, you’ve bit him as you cum, his words pushing you over the edge. Your first, thoughtless response being to latch onto him, a way to try and ground yourself. His cock spasms at the feeling, his own orgasm rocking through him, his nails bite into your skin, holding you to him firmly as you both finish at the same time.

He groans loudly, his orgasm shocking him, not expecting to cum so suddenly. You’re limp against him, your teeth no longer imbedded into his shoulder. You pant and shudder against him, aftershocks wracking through your body. He pulls you back, only because he needs to see the look on your face and when he does, he smiles brilliantly at you, overjoyed by your expression.

Your eyes are all gooey, cheeks tear stained, you look like an absolute mess for him and he thinks if he hadn’t just cum, he could cum just from seeing you like this. He tucks you back into his shoulder and holds you to him, letting you regain your strength before trying to move either of you.

You feel dizzy and lost, “It’s never felt that good before.”

“Mmm just you wait,” he retorts humorously.

You still twitch against him slightly but you pull yourself back and press a full kiss to his lips, your tongue licks into his mouth, his hand grabs at your face, letting you kiss him how you please, a moan passing from him to you. You pull back from him properly, sitting in his lap looking at him, feeling a little bashful now.

“What was that for?” He asks, eyes glassy.

You smile sweetly at him and say, “That was a thank you.”

He smiles affectionately at you, his eyes dopey and in love, “You should always thank me like that.”

You bop him on the nose with a finger, “Okay.” Apparently, an orgasm makes you agreeable and happy.

He shakes his head at you in amusement before asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope, waited for you.”

“Let’s eat then,” he says, picking you up as he stands.

You squeal at him as he carries you down the hall like that, you’re stuck to him, clinging on for dear life, scared you’ll fall but also trusting that he won’t drop you. The whole house is filled with your shared laughter.

₊ ⊹

The next couple weeks are more of the same, you spend a lot of time in Kuai’s bed, seeking his warmth most nights but nothing happened between the two of you. He seemed to be trying to control himself better around you, it would have bugged you but things had honestly been busy. With the wedding approaching fast, you had other things to worry about and your anxieties started peaking their ugly heads again.

And now that the day is here, you feel wracked with nerves the whole time, it hadn’t been so bad… not in the beginning. There were a few hiccups, like the awkwardness between yourself and your father, you’re still holding resentment against him, especially since his motivations remain unknown to you.

Your father had seemed… sombre, when no one was looking there was a sadness looming around him, you aren’t sure what exactly could be the reason for it and you would ask but he wouldn’t tell you either way. He’d only say that it is rude to ask someone why they look run down.

There was one point in the day that you tried talking to him but he had only brushed you off, giving you shallow pleasantries and congratulations. It hurt, to be pushed aside when you had concerns for him, you think the least he could have done was entertain a polite conversation with you but he was not at all interested in talking with you, not in the way you needed him to.

You had also tried asking your mother about your father but like you predicted, she gave away nothing. Instead, she focused on you, how you were feeling and settling, how you were going with Kuai. It was nice to see her, to talk with her properly, you have been missing her company. You also tried a few more times to get her to tell you what was wrong but she’s a tough nut to crack and she continued to assure you nothing was wrong, maybe you are looking too hard for things that aren’t there.

Kuai had been with you most of the day, trying to stay by your side and make sure you felt okay but he had people coming to talk to him a lot, he eventually got pulled away from you, not too long ago actually. Now, he’s probably stuck in a conversation somewhere; one you do not care to stick around for.

This whole day has been uncomfortable and you’re nervous, the future in front of you now and you have no idea what happens after. What changes now? You are aware nothing has actually changed, only the legality of your betrothal to Kuai but things still feel scary, everything feels scary and you feel small. It feels like you may be having a panic attack again.

You scan the crowd for Kuai but fail to find him and instead rush to find a quiet place you can hide for a moment, somewhere you can calm your thoughts and focus on your breathing. It doesn’t help though, now you’re alone with your thoughts, the quiet a welcome change from the overstimulation of being around people but not helping in slowing your thoughts.

All your anxieties are still there, just somehow louder without all the other noises happening around you. You start hyperventilating, now freaking out about not being able to calm down. And you’re frustrated, you have enjoyed your time here for the past month, you feel less isolated, you feel cared for, Kuai makes you feel cared for but you are not coping with the change well, you are not coping with your fathers betrayal well. You are not coping well, not right now. Right now, it feels like the world is caving in around you.

Tears are streaming down your face and you wish they would stop, it will mess with the makeup you’re wearing and then people will have questions, oh gods, what if they have already noticed your absence? What if people are looking for you, what if someone finds you here like this, all sad and pitiful… you might die on the spot, from mortification.

Footsteps can be heard nearby, getting closer to you, it has you holding your breath and standing stock still, hoping the bushes and pillar will be enough to hide you from whoever is in the area. They keep approaching though, their steps seem rushed, like they’re looking for someone, great, they’re probably looking for you.

Kuai rounds the pillar and sees you, he rushes out a sigh of relief, happy to have found you, “I have been looking all over for you, are you okay?” His hands cradle your face and his thumbs gently rub the tears off your cheeks, attempting to fix your makeup.

“I couldn’t find you, I did look,” your voice is shaky, threatening to cry again.

Truthfully, you feel relieved to see him too, his presence immediately bringing you a kind of comfort you hadn’t realised was gone until he was back beside you. You had been leaning on him all day to help keep you together more than you thought, you knew he helped make all of this easier but you hadn’t realised just how much him being near helped you.

“Come here,” he pulls you to him, holding you in a hug, keeping you safe, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You don’t really but you’ll try your best to tell him anyways, “I got scared, nothing changed but it also feels like everything has changed. I am worried about my relationship with my father, I feel betrayed by him… and I guess… I have not been coping as well as I thought I had been.”

“You have been doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances,” his hands rub your back, “You have been doing your best, you have been adjusting as well as anyone can, I am in awe of your resilience, dear.”

You sniffle out, “I worry that I am becoming a burden to you, Kuai.”

“You could never burden me,” he leans down and presses a small kiss high on your cheekbone, when he pulls back he looks you in the eyes, his gaze intense and sincere, “I love you.”

The reminder of his open love for you takes your breath away, he does not repeat it often, only when he thinks you have forgotten it. Only when he thinks you need to hear him say it, he needs you to know how highly he thinks of you, how beautiful you are to him, how amazing you have been throughout all of this.

You never know how to reply to him, saying thank you feels dumb, so you kiss him. Leaning up to him, you press your lips to his gingerly, careful and tentative as you do. You hadn’t kissed during your ceremony, it’s not tradition but in the quiet area you have found, where it is just the two of you, you share a soft kiss, one filled with your appreciation for him and his love. Parting is harder than it should be, every time you kiss him, you hope it will last just a little bit longer.

“You are my husband now,” you comment.

He smiles softly at you, “That I am.”

You both head back to where everyone else is, once you’ve calmed down, he stays with you the whole time and offers you reassuring words. You would have loved nothing more than to go home and be done with the day but you soldier on and get through it.

It is uneventful, more of the same but this time Kuai makes sure to stay close by you, a part of him touching you the whole time. His hand always on you somewhere, whether it be on your back, shoulder, hand, knee, he’s there and he’s making sure you remember it.

Ultimately, he is what gets you through today and you are so grateful to him.

₊ ⊹

After everyone leaves, you’re back at his house… well your house too, it feels a little weird to say though, especially since you feel like you don’t contribute much. His house has been feeling more homely but you can’t tell if that’s his house or him, you think you may just be feeling at home with him.

You shower first, needing to get out of everything and into something comfortable, when you’re finished, you head to Kuai’s room. His door is open and he’s lying on his bed waiting for the shower to be free.

“I am done,” you walk to his side and his hand grabs yours, squeezing once.

He hums at you, “Thank you,” his form moves off the bed, his body brushing up against yours as he slips by you to head in the direction of the shower.

You’re feeling a little odd, you could just go to bed, or even get into his bed and sleep off today but you know people usually celebrate their marriage. It may not be a ‘traditional’ marriage but you would like to sleep with him, he sets your skin on fire, he fills your head with dirty thoughts and… well, you don’t really have any good excuse… he makes you horny and you want him to fuck you.

Sighing, you crawl onto his bed and into the spot he was just in, it’s still warm and cosy. You sit and think about things as you wait for him to come back but all you’re really thinking about is how much you’d like to be filled with him, how hot his skin must get, how vocal he may be. No matter how hard you try to think of something else, your mind wonders back to him and his toned body under you, or above you. Your thighs subtly rub together, seeking friction.

When Kuai come back into the room, he’s wearing his pants low on his hips, he’s shirtless, chest bare and still has some water trailing his abs, his hair down and damp, you can’t help the way you stare at him. You try, you try really hard not to make it obvious but by the way he raises a brow at you, you know you’ve been caught red handed.

You speak before he has the chance to be mean, “Aren’t you cold?”

He hides his smile at your question, “I run hot,” he notes, obviously.

You feel silly, “Right…”

“Was today okay?” He sits down facing you, a hand landing on your knee.

You’re actively having to fight off the shiver that wants to shake your whole body, “It was fine, with you beside me.”

He hums at you in acknowledgement, his hand gripping your knee once before pulling away.

Telling him you want to sleep with him is hard, you haven’t actually tried saying anything yet but he picks up that something is bothering you.

“Did you have something you want to ask me?” He raises his brows to you, encouraging you to ask what you want to.

Biting the bullet, you decide to be direct, “Don’t we… have to consummate our union… or whatever?” You feel very awkward and you’re having a hard time looking him in the eyes.

“We don’t have to,” he replies.

You feel dejected, like he has outright rejected the idea of sleeping with you, “You don’t want to?”

He’s quick to answer, “I want to,” he looks at you, eyes dark, “You know I want to.” His gaze looks like there is a fire raging inside, feelings for you burning just under the surface, “But only if you want to.”

“I want to,” you’re fiddling with your own hands, nervous, “It’s just that, it’d be my first time.”

“Maybe we should wait,” he offers.

“For what?” your brows upturn at him, “I want it.”

He closes his eyes to think for a second, trying to be respectful even though you’re in his bed, asking him to fuck you, on your wedding night. His focus is on trying to keep enough blood in his head so he can think. Not realising that you’ve shuffled closer to him, not until your hand reaches for his wrist and shoves his hand down your panties. You’re resting on your knees for him, legs spread just enough for his fingers to slip through your pussy lips.

He groans, like he’s been punched in the stomach, “That’s just not fair.”

“Trying to show you I want it,” you mutter out, bashful.

He’s weak, how could he resist you when you’ve pushed his fingers to your cunt, your very wet cunt. He drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick all over yourself, you gasp in response and grab onto his shoulder, his skin hot under your hand.

He focuses on where his hand is under your panties, wishing you weren’t wearing any, “I can tell you want it; I still have reservations.”

“Is it because– hah–” you’re cut off by his fingers carefully circling your clit, your nails lightly dig into his skin, “–is it because –mmph– I’m a virgin?” You gasp out, wanting to understand his hesitation.

“Partially,” he hums, his other hand moves to grip your thigh, trying to stop your twitching, “Also because I like your neediness for me, wonder how far I could push you.”

You frown at him, thighs trembling at the stimulation he’s providing, “That would be cruel–”

“–It would be, yes.” He cuts you off only to agree. He looks to your eyes, they’re blown out and glazed and as much as he enjoys taunting you, he would also enjoy getting his dick wet.

You can’t help the way your pussy flutters at his words, you wish you didn’t enjoy how mean he seems to be when it comes to the bedroom. He’s so very often gentle with you and the change in attitude when it comes to this topic affects you in a way you can’t really explain. He knows though, especially since your cunt got so much slicker at his teasing.

He pulls his hand away from you and you whine at him, “I am not going to fuck you–”

“Why–”

He shoves his fingers covered in your wetness into your mouth, effectively getting you to shut up, “Because…” his eyes are set on how your lips wrap around his fingers, on the way your tongue slips between them, licking him clean, “…I said so.” He doesn’t offer anymore explanation.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth slowly, enjoying the view of your lips around them. Once he’s able, he pulls you to him by the back of your neck, his lips harshly meeting with yours. His tongue licks into your mouth, tasting you, he’s fervent, insistent. Mouth hot and the kiss wet, you can only let him kiss you how he pleases and whine into him, he’s overwhelming you and not giving you much of a chance to do anything else.

His hands push at your robe, wanting you to take it off, it slips from your shoulders and pools around your waist. His lips don’t part from yours but his hands move to grab at you, palming your breasts, massaging at you. His fingers pinch at your nipples, rolling them, you break the kiss, moaning louder than you were expecting to.

The sound embarrasses you and your hand moves off his shoulder to cover your mouth, Kuai grunts in disapproval but continues playing with your tits, focus solely on them. You gasp and whine from beneath your palm, your body jerking in response to him. You press your chest forward into his hands more, his eyes are dark and glazed, lost in how big his hands look on your tits.

You pull your hand away, enough to pant out, “Kuai –hah– I can’t– please, I need more.”

“Wants and needs are not the same thing,” his voice is low and gravelly, eyes still on your tits.

You push his hands away from you and stand up on wobbly legs, your robe falls to the floor properly and you push your panties down your legs, kicking them off your feet. Kuai is in awe of you, eyes trailing every inch of your body.

“I know that, and I meant what I said,” you huff at him, you passed want a while ago, you need him now. His hands grab for you but you step away, staying just out of reach, “I need you, please.”

He nods at you quickly, “Mhm whatever you want, just come here.”

You move within arm’s reach of him again and he pulls you down to the mattress, your head lands on the pillows and you laugh in shock. He leans down over you and presses his lips to yours, kissing you quickly. And then he gets off the bed to pull his pants down, freeing his hard cock. He’s large and thick and you think that taking him is going to be… a challenge for sure.

You must look concerned by his size because he says, “Calm down, I meant it when I said I wasn’t fucking you.”

You grumble at him, “I could take it.”

He chuckles, “I am sure you could, not tonight though.”

You’re confused as to what’s happening, “Then what are we doing?”

He crawls back onto the bed, over top of you, and nuzzles his face into the side of yours. His lips press light kisses to your skin before pulling back to look at you smugly. “There are other ways to get off,” he states, matter-of-factly.

“But I want to be…” you trail off before mumbling out, “…full.”

His head drops to your shoulder, and he grumbles lowly about how you’re trying to kill him, or how you’re really testing his patience. Taking a deep breath, he looks back to you and says, “Roll over, onto your side.”

“What? No please?” You joke.

He squints at you and then just flips you onto your side himself, he tucks in behind you, essentially spooning you. His hard body presses into your back, he holds one of his hands out to you, “Spit.”

You do as you’re told without thinking twice, immediately spitting into his palm. He sighs quietly and takes his hand away from you, soft clicking sounds can be heard behind you and Kuai groans out, his head landing on your shoulder. He fists at his cock for a bit, getting it slick for you.

“Keep your thighs closed,” he directs, deep voice by your ear.

His cock slips between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open on his thick length. You gasp at the feeling of his dick running along your cunt, the head lightly grazing your clit as he slips against you. He moans into your shoulder at the warmth of your pussy, his cock jerking at how wet you are for him.

He breathes in as he pulls back, his dick slick with you. He pushes in between your thighs and you gasp out a whine at how his tip hits your clit. Kuai starts a steady pace, thrusting backwards and forwards, his dick sliding against your pussy. Looking down, you watch the way the head of his cock pokes out between your thighs, you clamp them together as much as you can and Kuai’s hips stutter, a moan pulled from his chest.

You’re leaking against him, his dick sliding easily through your folds, his breath sputters at the plushness of your thighs, at the slick of your creamy cunt. The tip of his cock oozes thick globs of precum, his arousal driving him insane. His hand grips onto your hip, holding you still and needing to ground himself.

Your hips move with him, your need for him heightening. He’s so hard and pressed right against you, it would be so easy for him to change his mind and push inside. Moans and whines spill from you freely, your hand reaches back and tangles into his hair. Kuai presses his head to your shoulder, his pants and moans right next to your ear.

“Kuai –hah– can’t you just –nngh– put it in,” your eyes burn, like the pleasure might make you cry.

He groans into your neck, “No –nngh– I couldn’t –hah–”

He is right, with how big he is and the fact you’ve not had sex before, there is no ‘just’ putting it in. But even though he’s right, your horny brain doesn’t care, “Please~”

“No,” he bites back, “Now stop asking or I’ll stop.”

You whinge at him and even though you want to keep protesting, you think better of it, knowing he definitely would hold off on his own pleasure just to torture you further. Kuai mouths at the side of your neck, getting carried away and sucking at your skin, no doubt leaving behind some dark marks.

He’s getting lost in feeling of your wet cunt and soft thighs, “You’ve got such –hah– soffft skin –fuck– pussy is fucking dripping –nngh– for me.”

His slightly slurred and growled out words drive you mental, moans getting stuck in your chest from how you try to stuff them down. You rock your hips back against him, desperation clawing up your spine.

Kuai’s hand pins your hip to the bed, holding you down, wanting you to stay steady so he can fuck through your thighs how he pleases, “Be good and stay –hah– still.”

Your cunt jumps against him, you’re throbbing for him, your thighs slick and a complete mess, both from his precum and your arousal. You’re frustrated from the lack of fullness, your pussy begging for his cock.

“Kuai~ please –hah–” you let yourself trail off, remembering his threat.

His thrusts speed up, the glide easy, meeting no resistance with the complete mess made of your lower half. You can feel the growls in Kuai’s chest and hear the gasping noises he’s making against your skin, his tongue licks at your neck before he whispers to you.

His voice is low and grumbly, broken only by gasped moans, “Bet you have the tightest little cunt –nghh– probably have me cumming just from filling you –hah–”

You tug at his hair and he moans into your ear the sound has your pussy quivering for him, all the sounds he makes sets you on fire. His hot skin holds you close to him, making you feel faint. And then his mouth is back on your skin, leaving behind more marks.

The sounds you try to stuff down drive him crazy, you’re trying so hard to be quiet but can’t help but make noises and it’s not only boosting his ego, it’s making his cock throb for you. He has half a mind to cave and fuck you open on his cock right now.

Kuai’s cognizance is far from him, his thoughts only focused on your slick cunt and thighs on his cock. He slurs out to you, “You’re such a –hah– pretty little thing –mmph– my pretty little thing –nghh– my pretty little wife.”

You gasp and twitch against him, hearing him refer to you as his wife has your head buzzing, something primal in you loving being referred to as such. Your stomach fills with butterflies, his words doing things to you that you don’t really have the wherewithal to understand right now.

You’re getting close to finishing, your pussy twitches and your stomach clenches, your hand in his hair holding on tighter. He groans into your neck, his own end sneaking up on him. He’s losing his mind at everything, everything about how he’s fucking your thighs right now has him going crazy.

His dick spasms between your legs and his teeth bite into your neck, the feeling a shock, it runs down your spine to your cunt. The blunt pain pushes you off the edge and you cum on Kuai’s cock, choked moans pulling from your chest. You gasp and whine, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes. Your mind is gone as you cum on him, the only thing slightly grounding you is the feeling of Kuai’s hot skin and his tongue as he licks at the bite mark he left behind.

The way you jolt against Kuai and how your thighs seem to clamp tighter have his own orgasm slipping from him. His cum landing on your thighs and his bed. He groans loudly into your skin as he cums and he finds himself wishing so badly that he had cum inside you. He nips at your skin some more as he comes down, enjoying the way you jerk against him as he does.

The hand he had on your hip wanders over your body now that he doesn’t have to hold you down, he pulls at the skin on your thighs, at your tits, and when he reaches your face he wipes the drool away from the corner of your mouth.

He checks you over, “You with me?” You hum out to him in confirmation, and he adds, “Good, cause I’m not done with you.”

His words send a thrill through you, what else could he possibly do to you?

He pulls his cock from between your thighs carefully and then pulls you to lay on your back, he positions himself over you. You’re so pliable now that you’ve cum, letting him manoeuvre you however he pleases. His hands push your thighs open and he’s breathless at the sight, you’re a mess, slick and cum coating your thighs and cunt. He groans out at it, his mouth pooling with saliva, he wants to put his mouth on you so bad.

His fingers drag along your skin, collect what cum he had gotten on you, and then his fingers are pressing through your folds. He’s playing with your pussy, coating it in his cum. A single finger prods at your entrance and slowly slides inside. The grip you have on his single finger almost has him going feral, the fact you wanted him to fill you with no preparation makes him nearly laugh.

You gasp at how his finger has pushed into you, not expecting it but enjoying it, finally having something inside. He gently moves it in and out, slowly fucking you, your thighs try to close at the stimulation but Kuai body between your legs stops them from getting too far. His free hand moves to your thigh and holds you open, his gaze greedy for how open you are for him right now.

He can’t stop thinking about how you would feel split open on his cock, how you would leak around him, how tight you must be and how fucked full he’d make you feel. His skin is buzzing, his cock hard for you again. His finger retreats and you whine at him, the sound you make has his heart racing, you sound so fucked out and cute.

“You make such cute little noises,” he hums out to you.

“Why–”

He shushes you, “Just lay there and let me play with you.”

Gods, he’s going to kill you, your cunt jumps at his words and your stomach twists in knots. The things he has been saying tonight have you gnawing at the bit, wanting him to stop because it’s embarrassing and also never wanting him to shut up because it’s arousing you.

Kuai’s finger collects more of the cum he left on you and then he pushes it inside your cunt, he’s finger fucking his cum inside you and it’s going to make you faint. His finger crooks up inside you and your hands move to cover your mouth, loud moans threatening to rip from you.

Kuai only smiles at your reaction and hums, “Can try and be as quiet as you want, won’t work.”

Your pussy clenches down on him at the sound of his voice and his smile grows larger, he’s enjoying watching your reactions to him, loving the control he has as he fingers you. His pace has been steady and consistent but with his own need to see you cum clawing up his spine his hand speeds up, fucking you faster and harder, his head filling with images of you cumming for him.

He’s thinking about how tight your little cunt will grip him as you finish and how you would feel cumming on his cock. His eyes are glazed and blown, fucked out and he’s not even fucked you. You’re gasping underneath your hands, eyes rolling to the back of your head and spilling tears. The sight has Kuai enamoured, relishing in the way you’re crying over his single finger.

He crooks his finger up to hit a specific spot inside you continuously and it has you cumming with a suppressed shout. Kuai was right, you grip him tight as your cunt spasms around him, your body twitches and your thighs quiver.

As he pulls his finger from you, all your slick and the cum he pushed inside oozes from your convulsing pussy hole. He tuts at you in mock disapproval, you’re not really sure what he’s referring to though, you’re still panting, trying to catch your breath after your second orgasm.

When you’ve regained some of your faculties, you look to Kuai and see the absolutely fucked out look on his face. His eyes glassy and wet, focused on your pussy, his cock fully erect again. He doesn’t look all there at all, like his thoughts are a million miles away from him.

“My pretty little wife has made a mess all on my sheets,” his words are slurred together, “gonna have to clean it up,” his hands run along the insides of your thighs, “You gonna let me clean it up?” He finally looks to you, his eyes bordering on feral.

You nod shakily at him, words failing you right now.

At your approval he’s immediately shuffling between your legs, you don’t know what you were expecting but you’re shocked when he gets on his stomach and pushes your legs open as wide as they will go before licking up the whole length of your pussy. Your stomach jumps in delight and shock, your hand moves back to your mouth to cover the moan that he pulls from you.

He’s lapping at you like a starved animal, not really cleaning any mess but more… making an entirely new one. Your head is up in the clouds, not able to focus on anything but how it feels to have his tongue lick at your pussy. His mouth then suddenly latches onto you, his tongue entering your hole and drinking down all of your cum.

His face presses as close to your pussy as he can possibly get, his nose up against your clit makes you clench down on his tongue and a loud groan rumbles from deep in his chest. The vibrations of the noise he makes has you crying out, your hand doing little to stop it. Kuai’s hands hold onto your thighs, gripping them tighter at the sound you make.

You’re practically panting for him, your hips rise and fall, attempting to ride his face. He holds you down, his mouth fervent on you, hot and wet. The noises that fill the room are embarrassing and obscene. Lewd, wet noises of your cunt and his mouth enter your head and you twitch in response, your skin heating at the realisation that it’s your pussy making those noises.

Your hand is getting damp from how you drool at Kuai’s tongue in your pussy, eventually you can’t take it and need something to grip onto. Your hand moves from your mouth and tangles in his hair, the other gripping at the pillows above you. The moans and whines he pulls from you are falling freely now, unobstructed and just as embarrassing to you as your messy cunt.

When you tug on his hair accidentally, he groans into your pussy, his tongue moving more desperately. Kuai’s hips rut into the mattress below, not able to stop himself from seeking friction. His head fully invaded by you and your cunt. He’s almost whining into your pussy, obsessed with how fucking slick you are, how you seem to just keep getting slicker.

His nails bite into the skin on your thighs where he’s holding you open; you’re shaking like a leaf for him. Your whole-body trembles with how sensitive you are and he’s happily tongue fucking you through it. He doesn’t stop making small noises of pleasure as he licks into you, his hips still rutting down into the bed.

Your whines hit a higher pitch, your hands grabbing and letting go before grabbing again, your orgasm is on the tip of your tongue, or on the tip of Kuai’s tongue and it feels like too much. Your limbs want to flail but Kuai is holding your legs still, not at all deterred from getting you to finish.

“Kuai~ It’s –hah– too –mmph– much,” you cry out to him.

You don’t know if he chooses to not acknowledge you or if he’s so far gone that he doesn’t notice, but he continues tongue fucking you into the next dimension. The relentlessness has you crying now, tears falling freely at the overstimulation. You’re shaking so much and it truly feels like you need to run away from the feelings you’re being given. But even if you try to wiggle away, it doesn’t work, Kuai uses barely any of his strength to hold you still. He grunts into your cunt in disproval, the most communication he’s given since he first put his mouth on you.

A gasped whine is let out as you cum, your pussy spasms around Kuai’s tongue and he moans out at it, nearly whining into you again. His tongue fucks you through it and his nose presses to your clit, he shakes his head lightly to encourage the stimulation. He drinks down your cum while groaning, enjoying himself immensely, ecstatic that he’s finally gotten to shove his tongue inside you.

He pulls back from you, not wanting to overstimulate you more than he already has. You don’t even feel conscious anymore, vision dark and unfocused. The thing that brings you back to your body is Kuai biting at your inner thighs, he’s leaving marks on you, teeth biting in hard enough that an impression of his teeth will be left behind for a while. You let him do it, not really present enough to move anyways and even if you were, you like the marks he’s left behind, you like how possessive he seems to be in bed. It screams to that primal part of your brain.

Kuai pulls back to look at you and the marks he’s left on your thighs, he smiles to himself, full of pride. His hands gently smooth over your thighs before he moves up the bed to lay next to you, he pulls you to your side and hold you to him. You close your eyes, your body soft and pliable, like a ragdoll.

“Are you still with me?” He asks.

Without opening your eyes, you retort, “Are you?”

He chuckles at you but is also sheepish, “Yeah, sorry… I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologise, I liked it,” you mumble out to him, “a lot.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Good.”

You remember that he was hard again and open your eyes to look at him, “Do you need me to… are… do you need help?” You have a hard time phrasing your question.

He looks away from you, his cheeks a light pink, “I am fine…”

You object, “But you didn’t–”

“–I did.”

Your eyes widen in understanding and then you feel incredibly hot in the face, “Oh.”

He hums at you and changes the topic, “Are you satisfied?”

“For now,” you smile cheekily at him.

He leans down to you and presses a soft kiss to your lips, “I think… you might be trying to kill me.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you raise a brow to him.

“Mhmm,” he dismisses before leaning in to kiss you again.

His lips are gentle and he’s being tender with you, kissing you sweetly after making you cum for him three times. His warm hand skates along your skin, the action raises your skin and you press closer to him, seeking his warmth.

He parts from you and pulls the blanket over the two of you, your hand tangles in his hair again, this time brushing it with your fingers, playing with it mindlessly. You end up scratching at his scalp lightly and he melts for you, enjoying the feeling. You play with his hair for a while but everything is heavy, including your eyelids.

You pull your hand from his hair and instead wrap it around him, tugging him close, he tickles your back as you fall in and out of sleep, you aren’t sure how long he stays awake for but wrapped in his arms, warm and content, you drift to sleep not too long after he presses a small, final kiss to your lips.

₊ ⊹

A/N: Thank you for reading the whole thing, holy cow !! I hope you enjoyed it and I hope it fulfilled everyone’s expectations. As always my inbox is open for questions, thoughts and feelings, don’t hesitate to slide in. I hope everyone has a beautiful day/night and I will now be preparing to write just friends part 2 !! <33

[demonadelem]

Ace Attorney characters and swearing:

Phoenix doesn't swear very much out loud but he swears ALOT in his head as per his bitchy inner monologue. Beanix however let's it all fly loose.

Maya swears a regularly but knows how to control it, she's been told again and again it's something she shouldn't do as a future master of Kurain so she's really good at controlling it. Around Phoenix she's super comfortable letting it lose but around Kurain Village, out loud in court or in front of Pearls she doesn't.

Pearl only swears when she doesn't know it's a bad word. She's just copying the people around her and her mother made sure everyone held their tongue around her. When she gets older she doesn't swear out of habit but doesn't care anymore that other people do it.

Mia had the filthiest mouth ever, she even lets a few fly in court. She gets told off by the judge but she can get away with a couple because genuinely she's the most sane person there. She's the reason why Phoenix started swearing.

Gumshoe doesn't swear because he always has something sillier to say like "aw shucks" "Holy cheese and crackers" "I fudged up" "dagnabbit" "son of a gun" and ofc "WHOOOOOOOPPP"

Larry swears and can't control it, he gets in trouble for swearing on front of children and in court.

Franziska didn't swear ever until after her father's execution because it's unbecoming of Von Karma. As she got older she realized the power dropping an F-bomb at an opportune moment. She Understands the less she swears the more powerful it is when she does.

Edgeworth doesn't swear because he has something far more vicious to say. Otherwise he's usually the one telling others "language." However if you do ever hear him swear the following words will be "nobody will believe you."

Part 2 aai