#but just know that the emotional angst is HEAVY

[bumblebeehug]

I'm starving for nalu angst content. Please feed me?

i shall feed you with some of the best angst i can muster<3 thank @zuzu-fairys-tail for prompting this tihi

For the sake of Love

Summary: Natsu makes a mistake that drives him away from Lucy, but when he returns, he's forced to face the aftermath. Notes: This fic works as a stand-alone, but makes direct references to "Unrequited Love" Part of this series Ao3 - FF.net (link coming)

***

Natsu had never thought about love as something he would experience. He had seen other people express it, claiming that their life didn’t start until they met their significant other. He heard them talk about needs, desires, communication and other otherworldly things – otherworldly, he called them, because couldn’t this apply to anyone? Why did it have to be a specific person? Why them?

He once asked Gray about this. He mentioned his relationship with Juvia, how they had been going steady ever since the team got home from the hundred years quest, but that he couldn’t understand where their original relationship had gone. Their yandere-tsundere act, their genuine friendship – had he really given it up for the sake of “love”?

“They cohabit,” was Gray’s curt answer, clearly disgusted having to talk about feelings with an idiot like Natsu.

No matter how much Natsu pressed him after that, Gray wouldn’t elaborate. Cohabit. He asked Levy for a definition, and came to the conclusion that that’s what he and Happy did. Lived together, spent time together, cared for each other. Except, he wouldn’t marry Happy even if he stood at gunpoint, so Gray couldn’t have been serious. He kept the real information for himself, the actual secret behind normal love and romantic love – what they meant and what differentiated them.

Before Natsu met Lucy, he was going through a troubled period in his life. He had spent so much time alone ever since Lisanna died. His home was dusty and empty, any time he spent in Magnolia was spent at the guild hall, and even his time there was limited to when he was between missions. And those missions then – they would last for weeks at a time, and anytime he found a lead on Igneel, he would follow it, resulting in more time spent away. It could go days between his last conversation with humans, though luckily he didn’t go anywhere without his blue furry pal.

Then Lucy entered the picture. If Natsu hadn’t been talking a whole lot before, now he barely got a word in edgewise. Except, he didn’t dislike hearing her chatter away like there was no tomorrow. It filled his brain, the empty space that normally made his loneliness echo throughout the night. Lucy was a breath of fresh air in comparison to speaking to anyone else in the guild. They all knew him for his losses – losing Igneel, losing Lisanna – but here he had a girl who didn’t define him by these things. She valued Natsu for his current self, the one she had met in Hargeon, who was strong, friendly and reliable. He appreciated this – he didn’t have to feel out of place when he entered the guild. Plus, she was easily impressed by all he had to offer. It was almost too good to be true.

After her, the world shifted. He was once again finding joy in the simple things. Jobs became more intricate and engaging, and even when the reward was butchered he’d always leave with a good feeling in his stomach. He enjoyed hearing her explain plants she saw on the way home from the job, and though he never enjoyed trains, he felt at ease knowing she wouldn’t leave him on it. Lucy became his ground pillar, the safety line that kept him from falling. Soon enough he found himself looking towards her every time he outdid himself. He wanted to know that she had seen, that she knew how far he had come. And the best part was that every time he searched for her eyes, she was already looking at him. Her support was unwavering.

At least, that’s what he thought. Lucy was always going to be there, searching for him, aiming all her attention to Natsu. He believed that her door would always be wide open for him, and if it wasn’t, he’d be granted an open window – something that told him that she wanted them to connect. For years, that was true. He had landed in the fact that he loved her presence, and she loved his. That their friendship was beyond just friends – soulmates would be more accurate.

But Natsu felt inadequate. Like he was failing at being a normal human. He had been haunted by the fact that he never was seen as any other guy – he was always a dragon, a demon, or in some cases a dunce. Truthfully, he didn’t want that. So one day he took a look at himself, and at other guys his age, and did a comparison. What was it Natsu did wrong, where did he fail as a human?

It didn’t take long to notice it. Almost every guy his age had been with, or currently was with, a partner. Not in the way Lucy was a partner, though he often referred to her as such, but in a dirtier way. There was jealousy, touching, tasting and biting, not always confined to a private space, seeing as he had noticed all this just in the guild hall. Jet had yet another girlfriend fuming with anger as she ran out of the bar area – she had apparently had enough of being compared to Levy. Natsu didn’t actually crave that sort of love, but he still couldn’t help but search for it.

The day he met her, he was on a solo mission. Happy and Lucy were visiting the Exceeds, but Natsu wanted some extra money for food, so he’d gone alone on a quest to catch some dark wizards before they got their hands on a sacred jewel from the village. It was walking distance, the pay was good, and Natsu would get to let off some steam: it was the perfect mission. What he didn’t know was that within that group of wizards, there’d be a mage with the most captivating looks.

Her light blue hair and fierce, deep green eyes had him captured. Not captured enough to avoid him from defeating the group, but enough to make him feel like he couldn’t help but to try to talk to her. Surely she’d come over to the good side if they had a good heart to heart? Natsu was confident that all she needed was some TLC: a warm shower, a proper conversation, and a soft bed to sleep in.

That night, Natsu did things he’d never done before. She had kissed him, and to his initial surprise, he had kissed her back. The small voice in the back of his mind, worrying about Lucy, was quickly pushed away. This was what he wanted – he had waited for a moment like this for years. A chance to hop on the train to being a normal guy, someone with girlfriends, exes, an emotional life. So under the sheets they went: he believed their activities would come to an end after this, resembling something of a “one night stand” as he’d heard people call it.

Man, was he wrong. The lust that awoke within him suddenly felt untamable: he needed her to satisfy him. It was years of pent up longing, though he still wasn’t sure for who he had longed. She seemed quite satisfied with their relationship though. Their sessions were intense, only lasting a day a month, so whatever they had could be kept a secret. Lucy and Happy didn’t have to know.

But soon enough, the two of them came to talk before and after their meetings. They’d talk about anything at first: the weather, recent news from the area, things that had happened on missions they’d gone to – she had listened to his advice way back then and started up as a novice witch, freelancing her way around while she got used to the good side of the wizarding world. Natsu was thrilled, because now he could share his struggle: they were both equally destructive in their ways. Between sessions they’d find themselves comparing ways they destroyed towns: Natsu still winning by a landslide, though to be fair, they weren’t yet exactly on common ground. She had many years ahead of her to sharpen her tactics – if getting more destructive was part of it, then so be it.

Natsu loved her ways. He found himself thinking this quite often. He loved how she laughed, how she moved, the things she did. Never having felt this before, he quickly got swept away by the intensity. Suddenly he met up with her multiple times a week, not even to do anything dirty – just to talk to her. She seemed to share his sentiment, not really initiating any major sessions unless the mood was really there: she was clearly interested in him back. When Natsu realised this, he thought he’d finally gotten back the good karma he’d collected over the years, that the universe owed him.

Before he could ask her out properly though, he felt like he had to stop this secrecy. He hated not being able to tell Lucy about things, and it felt weird that she knew everything about Lucy, while she knew nothing about her.

The plan was to just kindly drop the ball in Lucy’s lap. He’d tell her about her, keep his description of her short and clean, and then she’d slowly get used to the idea. It’s not like he didn’t know how special their relationship had been lately: they’d kept up the husband-wife act, she allowed him to share her bed, though nowadays he longed for her smell in it (he couldn’t tell Lucy that of course), they ate almost all meals together, and still went on missions. The only difference was that he was starting to like the idea of doing these things with her as well. And even he knew that he couldn’t have both: he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.

His confession to Lucy hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He had taken her to this diner across Magnolia, made sure they took the long way there so they could enjoy their company a bit before he put his big news out there: in hindsight he realised it must have led her on. When they sat down, Natsu could barely contain himself. As soon as drinks were ordered, he grabbed her hands, sparkled in his eyes, and dropped the bomb.

“Lucy, I think I’m in love.”

As soon as he said it he let everything about her spill out. He couldn’t stop talking, it felt like he was in a daze: it felt so incredibly good being able to talk about this. To Lucy nonetheless. In fact, if you asked him then and there, he’d tell you he was in his version of heaven – and that being said knowing how great sex with her was. This, however, didn’t compare. Him and Lucy, no secrets, and he was in love. He’d be dancing on the table if the establishment was slightly less refined. So he talked and talked, about midday blue hair and eyes green as the forests from his childhood: and he didn’t see the way Lucy pressed her lips into a thin line, how tears threatened to build up in her eyes, or how her heartbeat got heavier. These were all things he would realise once he arrived back home, but wouldn’t be certain if it he’d just imagined or not.

If Natsu could go back in time and change how he had told Lucy, he absolutely would have, without a doubt in his mind. But that was only because in hindsight, he realised that Lucy might have harbored deeper feelings for him. He hadn’t realised it at first, dense as he often could be, but it was apparent once he took his usual trip to Lucy’s apartment just to find her doors locked, her windows closed and her blinds drawn. It was weird, caught Natsu off guard, and left him with a gruelling, dull ache in his chest. Did he prompt her to do this? Not wanting to draw any hasty conclusions, he went back every day the following week. Surely he’d catch her going outside to get groceries one of these days? But to his terror, she didn’t.

When he asked the guild about Lucy’s whereabouts, all he got was curt, dismissive answers. In a way, that answered his question: he was the cause of this. Even Happy had turned against him: he now spent most of his time in Lucy’s apartment. Natsu couldn’t blame him: he hadn’t told him about her until right after he’d gotten home from telling Lucy. Happy was Natsu’s oldest friend, so it was natural he’d hold a grudge if Natsu didn’t tell him about important things in his life. But that he’d be cooping up at Lucy’s place was the thing that set his theory in stone: Lucy must have had a crush on Natsu. There really wasn’t any other explanation. Happy was attached to Lucy, sure, but there had to be some sort of resentment from Natsu not going out with Lucy instead of the girl. Happy could be territorial in that way – he didn’t want new people to come and steal away Natsu’s attention.

For months things were weird in the guild. Natsu never knew how reliant the guild was on his and Lucy’s team: without them all working together as usual, it was like the mood in the guild hall had gone grey and stale. Natsu focused on solo missions, secretly doing them with her so he could get any extra help he might need. Sometimes it bugged him that Lucy wasn’t the one with him, but he brushed it off as just not being used to teaming up with someone who didn’t have the diversity of 15 different celestial spirits close by. Though it happened that he’d feel annoyed when she ignored clear instructions once again, causing double the amount of damage that was necessary for the mission. He suspected he was learning how it must have been working with him all these years.

Natsu couldn’t help but act like a busybody when it came to Lucy. He had promised himself to stay out of her business, but when he heard that she was looking thinner, he worried she didn’t have enough money for both rent and food: soon he started slipping a couple of thousand jewells to her landlady. Just so she’d keep her eye on Lucy for him.

One day he saw her there, in the guild, at the table with Levy and Cana. Before she noticed he was there she looked almost exactly like she used to: radiant, happy, gorgeous. The second she laid her eyes on him, her entire aura changed. With it, her normal appearance seemed to fade away as well. Suddenly he saw every pore in her face, felt her ragged breath in the air, noticed deep under eye bags contrasting the paleness of her skin. Her cheeks were sunken in and her muscles deflated – had he done this to her?

That’s when he started with the sympathy-smiles. He felt as stupid doing them as she probably felt receiving them, but before he could get out of it, it had become a habit. He’d draw the left side of his mouth, his lips pressed together as the corner of his mouth tried to turn into something of a smile, though it’d fail every time before it had a chance to turn upwards. Everytime he did it, he’d hear her swallow hard, smell tears in her eyes, and he’d feel the burning eyes of any fellow dragon slayers in the room – they all blamed him.

Natsu wasn’t sure he enjoyed living life like this. He loved her, without a doubt: they had finally become a couple, enjoying their date nights to the fullest. But even though he considered her a kindred spirit, he felt like something was missing. He wanted some contrast in their relationship. They could talk about something, find a word they didn’t quite understand, and then… silence. Silence where Lucy would kindly take her time and explain the word, its origin and how it was used: often with a couple of synonyms as well. That was how he even knew the word synonym. It was all thanks to Lucy.

Once, when they were thirty minutes into an intimate session, Natsu accidentally called out her name. Not her name, but Lucy’s. A faint whisper, right by her ear, making her jump out of bed quicker than he’d ever seen her move before.

“What did you just say?” She was grasping at her clothes, gathering them from the floor, distraught painted all over her face. “Lucy?”

Natsu fell over in bed, hurrying to cover his goods with the blanket.

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t mean to,” he tried. It was in vain, he realised, as he watched her blue curls swoosh with her very violent shaking of her head.

“No. It’s- it’s too weird, Natsu. I’ve known that you’ve loved her for a really long time, but I was stupid to think I could make you get over her.” She had tears prickling the corners of her eyes, though it looked like she was keeping them in check for now. She’d probably let them out as soon as he was out of sight. She tended to do that. Cover up any sign of weakness in case Natsu’s opinion of her would change. Maybe it would. He wasn’t so sure of himself anymore.

“Love? I don’t- not with her,” Natsu pressed his lips into a thin line, like his mouth had grown accustomed to recently. He never seemed to do his signature grin anymore: there was always something stopping him.

“How couldn’t it be love, Natsu? You always talk about her, you’ve preached to me how she changed your life! You’re one of the most romantic people I’ve ever met, but you were never romantic with me. It wasn’t me who you uprooted a tree for. It wasn’t me you turned into a demon for.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I know you want to love me. Maybe you do. But it will never compare. I’m sorry. Let’s end this here.”

Maybe she was right. Natsu watched her as she pulled on her pants and her shirt. He didn’t feel like stopping her from leaving. He didn’t like seeing her cry, but he wasn’t ready to do anything in his power to stop her. Though, his resolve on crying girls had been weak since some time back, considering that he didn’t drop everything in his life to stop Lucy from doing it. He’d become very similar to guys he had no respect for: he hated this.

When she was almost out the door, she stopped a second. Just a split second, hoping that he’d run forward to stop her. A quick glance over her shoulder: he looked like he was in his own world. She wasn’t sure he had ever really cared about her. In her eyes, they were practically kids, just swept away in the heat of the moment. His short obsession with her had only been a quick infatuation in comparison to what he had with Lucy. Everywhere they went, on every date, every topic: Lucy had seemed like a third party in their relationship. He spoke of her like she was the greatest person in the world, and though she couldn’t help but harbor a tiny bit of resentment for her, she also knew that Lucy must be a pretty amazing girl if she had managed to capture a flighty guy like Natsu.

__________

Natsu stayed at that hotel for a couple of days. He’d only told people he’d be gone for the night, back in the morning again, but they didn’t come looking for him despite his brief disappearance. He still couldn’t completely grasp what he’d done, but with every hour in that bed, the place he’d called out for Lucy instead of her in the depths of his passion, he found himself deeper in his realisations: he had fucked up.

He laid in unrest under the tan covers of the hotel duvet. He’d spent the last six months in his life in a daze, and now everything was rushing back to him in waves of regret, making him feel ill. He didn’t know how to fix this: life had turned upside down. He had messed up so badly, leaving his perfect life with Lucy and the guild, for a brief period to feel like a normal, shitty guy in puberty. Was it worth it? Destroying years of intimate friendship, breaking up the best team Fairy Tail had ever seen, leaving Happy behind to have irresponsible fun with a girl he barely knew?

He appreciated the time he’d gotten to spend with her, he really did, but it didn’t compare. Nothing gave him the sense of satisfaction that he’d reach from succeeding at a really silly prank in Lucy’s house. She didn’t give him the butterflies Lucy had given him when she traced flowers on his shoulder in the dead of night. 

Natsu was still confused. The relationships he’d experienced were so vastly different: but didn’t he do everything right? He gave the nasty love a chance, to save his love for Lucy from the dirtiness. He thought he’d juggled the two of them, one would fill his body’s desires and the other his soul’s. Lucy wouldn’t have to see him as the horrid person he really was behind closed doors. She got to see everything else: his happiness, sadness, everything that made him the person he wanted to be. Surely she wouldn’t accept him if she knew the dirty dreams that would leave his underwear soaked in the morning. He didn’t accept that version of himself: how could she?

When he stood up from his fetal position in his bed, and finally went to the bathroom to wash his face, he didn’t recognise the person looking back at him in the mirror. It was him, technically. Pink hair, sharp, monolid eyes, pointy teeth. But he had wrinkles between his light eyebrows, his mouth couldn’t curl into his normal grin: his eyes didn’t follow his commands. He pulled at his cheek. Those lips had kissed her more times than he could count. They felt dry, and looked pale in the reflection. These weren’t lips allowed to kiss someone as important as Lucy. No, he was completely inadequate. His hair was choppy, after having tried to cut it back to his normal lengths with a pair of kitchen scissors. Cancer wasn’t able to help him with that anymore, but he missed how soft his hair could feel after 5 minutes under Cancer’s care.

His neck looked thin and stretched out, faint marks from passionate kissing the night before, still left on the sides. For some time he’d at least be able to cover it up with his scarf. His eyes continued to scan what the reflection showed him: his bronzy skin had a gray tint, his hair looked duller, and then those eyes. A bit red from not getting any sleep last night, but more importantly: they had completely lost whatever sparkle they had before. He wasn’t sure when he’d last taken a good look at himself – maybe this dullness came from the break up with her, but honestly? Deep down he knew he’d lost it months ago. It was like the horrible actions he’d consistently made had slowly desaturated him, leaving him an empty shell of what he once was. There was a time when he was proud of what he saw: he was righteous, tough and had a fiery determination – where had it gone?

He threw his scarf back on and went back to bed. Could he really deal with Lucy when he came back? Would she let him talk to her? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. But in a way, he thought he owed her at least the truth. He wasn’t completely sure what the truth was yet: if it was his love for Lucy he wanted to convey, or his regret over his past actions.

The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm that refused to settle. He turned in bed, his body refusing to settle. Soon enough the night was there again, coming back to taunt him: keep him up at night and make him reflect on the life that had led him up to this. It was all his fault. He had to gather himself though. Not able to figure out where to start, knowing this couldn’t go on. He owed Lucy something – an apology, a confession, or maybe just the clean cut, yet gory truth about what a mess he had become. Even if she slammed the door in his face, even if she never spoke to him again, he needed to face her. He needed to fix at least one broken thing in his life, even if it wasn’t repairable.

Morning light streamed in through the thin hotel curtains. It painted the room in soft, warm tones that felt at odds with the cold knot in his chest. Natsu sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly together as if trying to stop them from shaking. He’d never felt fear like this – not when he faced dragons, dark guilds, or any of the countless battles he’d endured. No, this was different. This was the fear of standing in front of someone he loved and knowing he had ruined everything.

His scarf felt heavier on his shoulders as he adjusted it. It smelled faintly of ash and campfire – a comforting remnant of the person he used to be. He clung to that thought as he forced himself to his feet. Every step toward the door felt like dragging a mountain, but he kept moving. He didn’t pack anything; there was nothing worth keeping from this place except the lesson it had burned into him.

The guild would notice his return soon enough, and he had no illusions about the reception waiting for him. Anger, disappointment, maybe even indifference—he wasn’t sure which would be worse. But none of it mattered. His focus wasn’t on Fairy Tail, nor on repairing his reputation. He wasn’t coming back to make amends with the guild. He was coming back for Lucy.

As he stepped out into the bustling street, the cool morning air hit his face, and for the first time in days, he took a deep breath. It didn’t cleanse him, not really, but it steadied his steps. He didn’t have a plan, and his words were as jumbled as his thoughts. All he had was the drive to see her, to stand in front of her and let her see what he couldn’t put into words.

Because if there was one person in this world who could look at him, broken and lost, and still see something worth saving, it was Lucy. And for that, he owed her everything.

__________

The streets leading to Lucy’s apartment felt eerily familiar, but every step carried a weight he couldn’t shake. Magnolia was alive as always – shopkeepers setting up for the day, townsfolk chatting – but the world seemed muted to him. His thoughts drowned out the noise, focusing only on the path ahead. He didn’t dare to look up, in case he’d see any familiar faces. The shame and guilt he dragged along him surely made his face look contorted, ugly and fake.

He stopped in front of Lucy’s building and tilted his head up. Her window was closed, curtains drawn. Was she even home? The question almost made him turn around. But his feet refused to move, as if the ground had anchored him there. He couldn’t run anymore.

The staircase felt steeper than usual as he climbed to her door, the wooden railing creaking under his grip. When he finally stood outside her apartment, he stared at the engraved number on the door, a number he’d never thought twice about before. Now it felt like a barrier, daring him to go through with this. 7. The number that had haunted him throughout his life: sometimes as an omen, other times as a sign of luck. He wasn’t sure what it represented today, but he knew he’d been blind for its positive connections for too many years.

His fist hovered near the door. For a moment, he hesitated, his knuckles shaking slightly. What if she didn’t answer? Worse, what if she did? What would he even say?

Natsu gritted his teeth, swallowed the thickness in his throat as his stomach protested in turmoil, and forced the thoughts away. He’d come this far; there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the door.

The sound echoed in the narrow hallway, louder than he anticipated. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. Then, faint footsteps.

The doorknob turned, and the door opened just enough for Lucy’s face to peek out. Her expression was unreadable—neutral, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.

“Natsu?” she asked softly, her voice cautious. Her face was tense, like she was forcing away whatever her feelings tried to express through it.

He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. Her gaze was steady, and for the first time in months, he felt like the world had stopped moving. He hadn’t seen her face this close in months. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. It was her, his Lucy in the flesh. No, not his Lucy. He couldn’t call her that anymore. He hadn’t been able to for a long time.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out, voice low. He fidgeted with the edge of his scarf, trying to find the courage to say what he’d rehearsed in his head on the way here. “Can we… Can we talk?”

Lucy’s eyes searched his face, and whatever she saw there made her pause. She stepped back slightly, the door opening just a little wider. The air from her apartment leaked out, filling his nose with the wonderful nostalgia of their past life together. His heart ached. He had missed this so much.

“Yeah,” she said, after what felt like an eternity. “Come in.”

Natsu stepped inside, his heart pounding. He looked around, seeing her books stacked in neat piles and her celestial keys resting on the coffee table. Everything was just as he remembered, yet it felt like years had passed since he’d been here. He didn’t see any signs of the life they had lived together in there: the space he’d been given once to put his shoes in the hallway was filled with a pair of her sneakers. He didn’t see his coffee cup anywhere, waiting for him to return for it. The extra chair by the dinner table was gone as well, likely to distract her from the space it held for Natsu.

Lucy closed the door behind him and crossed her arms, leaning against it. “So?” she prompted, her tone guarded but not cold. How was she so calm? No, that wasn’t fair of him. She was probably experiencing the same internal emotional whirlwind that he was: she had just been able to practice hiding it.

Natsu took a deep breath. His fists clenched at his sides as he met her gaze.

“Can… we sit?”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to let this conversation happen. Finally, with a small nod, she gestured to the couch.

“Sure,” she said, her tone clipped. “Go ahead.”

Natsu moved toward the couch but paused before sitting. The cushions were the same ones he’d sprawled out on countless times, but now they felt alien, like he didn’t belong here anymore. He glanced over his shoulder at Lucy, who had yet to move from the door. She watched him silently, her arms still crossed.

“You can sit too,” he mumbled, his voice faltering.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but after a moment, she pushed off the door and walked over, sitting in the armchair opposite him instead. The distance between them felt vast, and Natsu couldn’t tell if it was the physical space or the emotional wall she had carefully raised.

“So,” Lucy said, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharper now, though not unkind. “What do you want to talk about, Natsu?”

He fidgeted, running his hand through his messy hair and pulling at the fraying ends of his scarf. Words fought to form in his throat, but they all felt wrong, inadequate. He lowered his gaze to the floor, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Lucy let out a soft, humorless laugh. “For what?”

Her response caught him off guard. He looked up, startled, and found her staring at him, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.

“For everything,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “For leaving, for not talking to you, for… messing everything up.” His fists clenched on his lap. “I didn’t know how to deal with stuff, and I – I hurt you. I know I did. And I’m sorry.”

Lucy didn’t respond immediately. She leaned back in the chair, her fingers tracing the armrest as she studied him.

“You’re right,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with a sadness she couldn’t fully mask. “You did hurt me. But you also left me with no explanation. Do you even know what that felt like, Natsu?”

“I-” He started to speak but stopped. His throat tightened, and he looked down again, unable to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, you gotta understand that I’m bad with words, I-”

“Do I?” She cut in, her voice cutting his heart open. “Do I always have to understand? Because honestly, Natsu? That’s not fair.”

He looked up at her in dismay. She looked like she was fighting tears. Did he really make her feel like this? He wanted to die. Gulping hard, he shook his head.

“N-no. Of course you don’t. That’s…” his voice mellowed out. “... my fault.”

Lucy didn’t answer. She was still waiting for his explanation – why he was here, why he’d found another girl and now didn’t seem to have her in his head anymore. She was still so confused.

“I don’t think I can give you an explanation you want to hear,” he carefully laid out, observing Lucy’s cautious body language. “I just… wanted to feel normal. Everyone else experienced romance, I was… jealous, I think. But I didn’t dare to approach you about it. You’re so… perfect. I’m disgusting in comparison.”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to stay in one place for longer than a second. He avoided Lucy completely, missing how her heart dropped with his self deprecating words.

“I have impure desires, and I thought that… maybe, just maybe, I could handle those on the side, while still being with you. I never wanted our relationship to change. It’s always been too important. I didn’t want to jeopardize it.”

Natsu shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his fingers gripping the edge of his scarf like it might hold him together. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, glancing down at his hands as he twisted the fabric tighter. His foot tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, filling the silence Lucy was yet to break.

“Did…” Her voice cracked. “Did you love her?”

Natsu froze again at her question. The air in the room felt like it had thickened, pressing down on him with all the weight of everything unspoken. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words felt like they were stuck in his chest. Did he love her? He thought he did at the time – hell, he was sure of it. It felt like the right answer, the right thing to say. But now, at this moment, the truth was much harder to pinpoint.

“I-” Natsu’s voice caught, and he quickly shook his head. “I thought I did. I thought I loved her... at first. It felt like... like something real. Something I’d never felt before.”

Lucy’s gaze softened, but her arms remained crossed, as though holding herself together against the uncertainty in his words. “But you don’t know now, do you?”

“I... don’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration building inside him. “It’s hard to explain. With her, it felt intense, and passionate... like I was... alive, you know? But it wasn’t the same as with you. Not like this.”

Lucy leaned forward slightly, her eyes watching him with careful understanding. “Natsu,” she said gently, “forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think that that wasn’t love. That was infatuation. It probably felt intense because it was new, and because you were looking for something you thought was missing. But… I don’t think it was love.”

Natsu stared at her, his chest tight as he absorbed her words. “I... I thought I loved her,” he said quietly, his eyes darting to the floor. “But now... I don’t even know what love is, really.” He shifted uncomfortably, his voice trailing off.

Lucy exhaled slowly, her gaze hardening slightly. “Natsu,” she began, her voice quiet but firm, “I understand you felt something for her. But... what you felt, whether it was infatuation or... lust... it isn’t something you need to hide or be ashamed of. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But it’s not love.” She paused, her expression unreadable. “Love... love is deeper. It’s not just about attraction, it’s about connection. About seeing the worst of someone and still choosing to be there. I don’t think you understand that yet.”

Natsu’s eyes flickered down, and he clenched his jaw. 

“I know it’s different with you,” he said quietly. “I thought I loved her. I... did love her, I guess. But now... I’m not even sure what that was.” He took a breath, frustration building inside him. Why was this so damn complicated? He’d dug his grave and now he had to lie in it. “With you, I always knew it was different. I knew what I felt for you wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just about the physical stuff. It’s always been… more. But I was scared... okay? I was scared that I’d ruin all we had.”

“What left is there to ruin though, Natsu?” She was soft spoken, but frank. Natsu knew she was right: he knew his rendezvous meetings with her had crumbled what he had hoped he and Lucy could keep. He messed up.

Lucy’s arms tightened across her chest, her face softening but still distant. “You didn’t need to be perfect, Natsu,” she said, her voice colder than before. “I never needed that from you. But you can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re running from everything you feel. That’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you.”

Natsu’s eyes snapped up, guilt and frustration swirling in his chest. “I know,” he said, voice raw, like every word was a struggle. “I know I screwed up. I just... I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t face it.” His fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders tight.

Lucy’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes were still wary. “You’re facing it now though. That’s more than I can say that I’ve done. I’m sorry for not catching… all of this… earlier.” She took an airy breath before she continued. “You haven’t ruined everything though,” she added slowly, her tone quieter now, but still carrying weight. “But if you don’t stop running, I don’t know what’ll be left to fix.”

Natsu’s breath hitched, and for the first time, he felt the weight of her words sink in. He leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m not perfect, Lucy,” he muttered, voice rough with regret, but there was a determination in his eyes. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Natsu’s words hit her like a physical blow, but Lucy swallowed the sting before it could show. She tried to steady herself, to push past the emotion that was threatening to rise, but her chest felt tight. He was so honest, so vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. It was painful, but somehow, it was also... familiar.

“I didn’t just miss you, Natsu,” she finally whispered, voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t name. She hesitated, her hands unconsciously tightening into fists at her sides. “I missed… us. I missed the stupid little things we used to do. And it hurts. God, it hurts. Because every time I saw your face after everything, it felt like... like my heart was pulled in two.” She didn’t look at him, instead pointing her gaze at the floor, as if the weight of her own words was too much to face. “I didn’t know how to keep going without you in my life. And now... I don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here.”

Natsu stood still, the guilt in his chest growing heavier with each word. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but nothing felt like it could make up for the emptiness he had left behind. How could he explain to her that he never meant for it to go this far? That he had been terrified of facing what he felt for her?

“Lucy,” he started softly, his voice strained with the weight of regret. “I messed up. I was scared of... everything. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of losing what we had. I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling, so I... ran. Tried to find it elsewhere. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know things would end up like this.”

Lucy slowly looked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, then she sighed. “Natsu, I get that you were confused,” she said, her voice quieter, more guarded. “But you still chose her. And that’s not something I can just forget. I wanted us to do so many things. But you weren’t there. You weren’t there for me.” Her shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of her own hurt sinking in. “I just... I don’t know if I can go back to that. I don’t know if I can trust that you won’t… replace me again.”

The tension between them thickened, and Natsu swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known how to be vulnerable before; he didn’t know how to start now, not with the mess he had made of everything.

Lucy continued, her voice softer now, but her gaze still wary. “You weren’t perfect. I didn’t need you to be perfect, Natsu. I just needed you to be here. And you weren’t.” She let out a shaky breath, and for the first time, Natsu saw the weariness in her eyes, the raw exhaustion of someone who had been holding on for too long. “I don’t know if I’m ready to try again. I don’t know if you’re ready, either.”

The words stung more than he’d expected. He had wanted to make it right, to find a way back to her, but he didn’t know if she could ever feel the same way again. If she could find it in her to forgive him: get over his mess up. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

“I want to try,” he said, his voice low but firm, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll prove it to you. Please.”

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, like it was waiting for them to figure out how to breathe again. Natsu’s chest was tight, his heart hammering in his ribcage like it had never known stillness. His hands clenched at his sides, unsure of what to do with all this feeling that had nowhere to go.

Lucy’s gaze stayed fixed on him, the distance between them too much, but too little. She didn’t pull away, not physically. But her eyes were guarded, like they always were now, like she was still trying to keep herself safe. Natsu wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the need to reach for her, to close the space, was so overwhelming he could barely think straight.

His breath hitched, and before he could second-guess it, his body moved forward, drawn to her like he had been all those months ago. There was a hesitation in her eyes, a softness to the way she looked at him that he hadn’t seen in so long. It was like she was still here, in a way he hadn’t expected. That didn't make everything okay of course. She was still hurt, still unsure, but there was something flickering in the way her lips parted slightly as he moved closer.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t anything spectacular. It wasn’t smooth or fluid or anything that could undo the mess they’d made. It was desperate, almost clumsy, two people trying to find something familiar in a sea of unfamiliarity. His lips brushed against hers, too hesitant at first, like he was afraid he would break her if he pressed too hard. But the feeling was there, just underneath everything, unrefined. The taste of her, the touch of her, something that felt so real it almost made him dizzy.

When they pulled away, the world around them still felt heavy. Lucy didn’t look at him at first, her gaze somewhere far away. But when she did, her eyes were a mix of things – of confusion, of hurt, of something that felt like relief, all tangled together.

“I’m not... not ready,” she whispered, voice trembling, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t... I can’t pretend like I don’t feel something, too. I don’t want to let go.”

The words rose anxiety in his chest as it stung sharper than anything he ever experienced before. But it wasn’t rejection. Not really. She wasn’t telling him to leave, to forget everything. She was telling him that they were both still stuck in this. She was still afraid to fall into it, but she wasn’t pushing him away.

Natsu’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. The guilt of what he had done – of hurting her – was still heavy, suffocating, but at least there was a chance now. A chance to do something different, to prove that he was willing to face whatever came next, no matter how hard it was.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he murmured, his voice rough. “But I’m here. I want to try. I won’t... I won’t give up on us.”

Lucy’s breath caught. There was a flicker in her eyes, a tiny thing that reminded him of the way she used to look at him – soft, but strong, and maybe a little broken. She didn’t know what to say, either, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes, the unwavering determination there, and something in her, something deep inside, softened. She didn’t have all the answers, but she knew one thing: she wanted this.

“I’m not sure either,” she said quietly, her voice calm now, steady. “But I know we can figure it out. We’ll work through it. Together.”

And in that moment, Natsu felt the weight of her words, the promise layed out in front of them. They weren’t whole yet, they weren’t where they used to be, but the foundation was still there – strong, despite everything. They had something real.

And as they sat there, just a little closer than before, Natsu realized that maybe the future wasn’t so uncertain after all. They had a long road ahead of them, sure, but they’d walk it together.

[aplaceforhumancorpses]

𓉸⁺‧₊˚ AFFECTION ROTS 𓂃🦇

„⤵ MILD ANGST „⤵ 1 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Highschool sweethearts aren't meant to last, but Jason wants to change that, even after his ressurection.

After April 27th everything that once tasted sweet became bitter. Teenage romance is a ticking time bomb. It's a promise of flesh not made to last— meat rots over time, affection rots over time— and eventually, it all becomes rancid and sour.

Maybe that's what happened when Jason died. When your eyes met, a countdown began, ticking relentlessly toward its end. His time was always borrowed, and the clock, merciless as ever, simply ran out. The world the two of you shared stopped being his, and in the wake of it his memory became merely something to drive the day forward. Everything you couldn't be motivated to do was slapped with the statement "But Jason would've wanted you to" It was like a toxic parasocial relationship. His corpse dragged you in and out of pits of guilt and grief, while your body remained stagnant his ghost became restless inside of your head. Eventually, until you started to lose him in pieces.

Briefly, you would visit the box in your basement that contained some of his things. Hoodies and novels he read. You would smile at the annotations he made with sticky notes. Saving quotes that probably sounded deep and emotional to a teenage boy. A stuffed animal that smelled vaguely like him, or his cologne anyway. That box was where the memories of his existence stayed, buried under the blanket you had placed there. Admittedly sometimes you didn't want to think about him. It felt wrong to think of it that way. Grief is fatal to the mind. It's a disease. And maybe, on the worst days, it’s easier to let the infection run its course than to keep cutting into yourself trying to clean the wound.

You did a lot in the time between his last breath and now. life moved on, whether your sweet innocent Jason was beside you or not. After graduating high school, beginning your freshman year of college, and getting your first apartment it became easier. His cardboard grave sat there untouched, collecting dust, holding pieces of him you didn’t need anymore. Whatever you hadn’t already discarded, you packed away and left in the past.

yes, it still stung. Not like it used to—no longer sharp and unbearable. Instead, it lingered, dull and constant, a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. Jason became irrelevant, just another detail in your coming-of-age story. Dating other men still felt like cheating. Still felt like betrayal. He'd probably be jealous if he saw you at those college parties. He was the type of boy to fight for you until his knuckles bled. Maybe he didn't have enough time to get the words out, but the sentiment would have been there. Even in death, you were his.

Your room grew up with you. The calendar you'd gotten as a white elephant gift was months behind. Your bedsheets kept the theme you chose for your room years ago. You barely even slept in it properly. There were bookshelves full of classics and poetry that were untouched. It wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a mausoleum. More often than not you would leave empty fountain soda cups on your desk like ornaments of the slump you were in mentally. The only things you'd done in this place were sleep and stare at your phone screen.

You ordered food hours ago. You couldn't be bothered to go and collect it yourself, but your driver never arrived. You took that as a hint. You simply weren't meant to eat tonight. It hurt to know how little you were spending on your own needs and desires. But you could hardly complain when you were living off the kindness of strangers. Your bills were paid by societies focused on providing for low income students. This money didn't come from nowhere. So why did you spend it on fatty junk like fast food? Your appetite was gone by now. But as a heavy thump reverberated through the wooden door on your apartment you shot up in hope of fatty junk fast food. Your hopes fell quickly as soon as the sounds from behind the door faded into nonsense dance of shuffling and pacing. You turned off your lamp. Maybe it was some drunk who had the wrong address. he would obviously realize this wasn't the right crack house, even though the decor suggested otherwise, and he would leave. You were tired and ready to turn in.

You heard it again. It seemed louder this time. You got up, stepping up onto your toes to look through the peephole. You were only met with the chest of this unwelcome visitor. You unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open slowly. Whoever it was was clearly out of it and angry. They didn't wait around for you to greet them. They barreled past you, knocking you against the door frame. They crashed into the kitchen counter. Folded over like a crumpled rag doll, holding their ribs.

The figure was large. Tall. Male obviously. Uncanny.

Some kind of muscular walking frankenstein of a human form.

You reached for the house phone. Should you call 911?… was this some kind of botched break in? It didn't look like he had any weapons.. but he probably had enough surface area from the base of his palm to the tips of his fingers to cover the entirety of your neck.

Before you could move, a hand slammed itself onto the table and you flinched away. The stranger looked back into your eyes, the whites of them so bright they nearly glowed like headlights.. the pupils dilated and narrowed.

"Who are you?" you whispered, your throat sore and dry, "What do you want?" You couldn't make out his face in its shadow. But it looked like someone very familiar…. Someone you knew well but couldn't quite remember in your stupor. You shook your head slightly to clear the haze.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, dragging his massive body from the kitchen island to where you still stood, frozen in place, pinned against the doorframe. The wind whipped harshly behind you. He closed the door gently, no longer slamming it. No longer banging. His arm went around your shoulders as he pulled you close. His breath warmed your ear.

"You… grew up without me.. You got really pretty. Just like i thought you would.." He breathed out, his lips brushing your hairline. You were still. In shock, you didn't dare react at all. "…I missed you." His grip tightened.

You felt the skin on his fingertips pulling against your arms and shoulder. You were too terrified to make a noise. Almost too terrified.

"You're dead." You said, pushing against his familiar warmth, trying to escape whatever strange force held you there. It didn't budge. "This is a really fucked up dream.. Jason wasn't this tall- or strong-" You broke off, swallowing thickly. Tears blurred your vision. He squeezed you tighter. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it or not. You weren't sure you were awake. "Let go!" you cried out. He frowned.

"Please… let me have this. just for a minute." He pleaded. "It's been too fucking long.." you could hear him begin to sob. There must have been something in the air that made your stomach twist and churn unpleasantly, until you sighed shakily.. giving in and relaxing as best you could against him. You weren't sure what exactly was happening- this wasn't real, right? What were these feelings you were having? Fear? Regret? Anxiety?

As you allowed your head to rest atop of his chest, you stared at the floorboards beneath your feet. You tried to calm yourself down. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably.

It was clear. The affection he held for you had not withered. It was as fresh, as raw, as it had been back in March, before everything fell apart.

Jason couldn't rot. He wasn't meant to.

...

Haha I'm so evil. Comment + Reblog? Where should the story go from here?

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs. 

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.” 

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this. 

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark. 

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.” 

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was. 

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s. 

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red. 

Like She’s been crying. 

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood. 

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“ 

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more. 

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious. 

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand. 

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go. 

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this. 

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours. 

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips. 

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you. 

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you. 

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over. 

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire.  You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too. 

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs. 

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants. 

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.” 

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go. 

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak. 

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan. 

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.  

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans. 

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?” 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut. 

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[storiesandthoughtsf1]

It’s complicated pt. 2

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fIreader

Summary: You and Lewis are best friends and roommates. Okay maybe you're also a bit into each other, but you have a boyfriend, even though he's not exactly the nicest person.Everything was fine, but what will happen after you and Lewis let into your desires one night? And how will you deal with the morning after…?

Warnings: cheating technically, toxic boyfriend, mention of, age gap, both reader and lewis are a bit questionable, the boyfriend is outright toxic, some angst i guess, message me if I messed up anything, read at your own risk!

Word count: 3,9K

Author's note: sorry this took so long to finish! And yes Lewis or reader aren’t entirely innocent still. this is an emotional mess! Also please note english isn't my first language!

In the morning you slowly woke up, dreams fading away, and opened your heavy eyelids. As you took in the scene, you realised that you weren’t in your own room. So you took up a hand to rub your eyes, feeling something wrap tighter around you at your movement. That was when you realised what had happened last night. All the memories flooding back, hitting you like a truck. The hurt from Connor standing you up, Lewis comforting you, the weird feeling you had felt as you stared into his eyes, almost like butterflies. But the thing that mattered the most. The pleasure. You had had sex with your best friend. And you had a boyfriend.

As you slowly realised the situation that you found yourself in, you had moved around a bit, which had seemed to wake the Brit beside you up. A small groan came from his way, which made your stomach do flips, though you mentally punched yourself for having that reaction. You were staring up at the ceiling when he opened his eyes, hands holding the duvet up to cover yourself. Lewis was about to place a kiss to your cheek, but that was when he noticed your facial expression. You looked lost, conflicted, which scared him in a way, as thoughts began circling his mind. Were you regretting last night? Had he just ruined his friendship with you?

He remembered Connor’s words yesterday that had annoyed him to no end. ‘Who in their late thirties would want to be best friends with a 26 year old and not want to bone her?’ He had said. A bit controversial yes, but being in the position that you found yourselves in now, Lewis felt like sinking into a hole. He wanted to be better than what Connor thought of him, actually he knew he was. But he knew how it seemed right now, as much as it wasn’t true.

Because the situation you found yourselves in now wasn’t due to Lewis wanting to blow off stream, no it was because he genuinely had feelings for you.

“You okay?” Lewis ended up asking, regretting his choice of words the second they spilled from his mouth, gently biting onto his lower lip to make sure he didn’t say anything stupid. Your eyes kept to the ceiling as you took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m okay,” for the first time you turned your head towards the Brit, immediately catching onto his concerned state. To you he was an open book, and his emotions were easy to read. The constant wall he put up, something he had learned to do after many years of being a racing driver, may fool everyone else but it didn’t fool you. You saw right through it. At least you thought you saw it all.

“Do you want breakfast?” Lewis asked as he didn’t know what to say, and sighed in relief when you nodded with a smile. Almost falling off the bed and stumbling through the room, Lewis picked up a pair of sweatpants and threw them on before making his way out of the room. You chuckled a little at his awkward state, returning your eyes to the ceiling when he was out of sight. A gentle smile came to your lips as you reminisced the night before, biting onto your lip.

Sex had never felt as good, as it had with Lewis. Normally all Connor wanted was his own pleasure, which ended up in quickies where you didn’t even orgasm. It had been so long since you had felt this good, Lewis using every possible second to explore your body and focusing on your pleasure. You couldn’t lie, being with Lewis like that had felt so natural, so right. It made you forget about all your worries, the only thing that mattered had been being with him.

Slowly you got up from the bed, and looked across the room to find clothes to put on. Your jeans from yesterday were discarded in a corner along with your panties, while your shirt was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t really want to put some tight jeans on, so you went to Lewis’ closet, opening it up and looked inside. He had so much clothes, so you knew he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of it. After having looked through the closet for a while, letting your fingers brush over the endless amount of soft material, your eyes landed on a specific t-shirt. It was a shirt that you knew he loved, so you instantly grabbed it, and took a pair of his loose boxers along with you and pulled it on. Catching yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly comfortable in your best friend’s clothes. The scent of him filled the pieces of clothing, a scent you found calming.

Slowly you made your way downstairs, where you found the person who was circling your mind standing in the kitchen flipping an omelette. All types of fruits and berries were laid out on two separate places, and two glasses of orange juice as well. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. Roscoe barked at your arrival, which made Lewis look up and noticed you smiling at him from across the room.

“Since when do you make such a fancy breakfast?” You chuckled a little, seeing the Brit shake his head with a giggle.

Seeing him stand shirtless in the kitchen, cooking both of you breakfast made you feel a way you couldn’t quite describe. Your stomach turned in a thrilling feeling, heart pumping faster. Yet the new and strong feeling didn’t scare you, it actually lured you in even more. It was like you were seeing the man before you for the first time. In a completely different light. He was almost shining, the sweet smile on his lips making your heart twist. “Since now I guess,” Lewis’ words brought you back from your thoughts, making your smile grow wider as you walked around the kitchen island to stand beside him.

Lewis felt his heart pick up its speed at the feeling of you suddenly being so close to him, curiously looking at what he was making. But he tried to suppress the feelings that erupted him, focusing on the vegan omelette before him. Cheekily you grabbed a couple of blueberries from one of the plates and ate them before Lewis could say anything.

“Wow, can’t you wait two minutes?” He tried to keep an annoyed tone, but in reality he just felt like kissing you. Yesterday had really screwed with his mind, and at this point he didn’t know where you were standing as a pair. Were you just friends? Were you more? Only god knew how much Lewis would give to be more than friends, but he knew better than to ruin your relationship with your boyfriend. Or at least he thought he did, because finding himself in the situation he was in right now, he realised he had ended up messing with some things he probably shouldn’t have.

It didn’t take long before the two of you were sat at the table eating your breakfast together. It had been silent for a while, both of you just focusing on your food, when Lewis felt the need to break the silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked rather shyly, which caught you off guard, connecting your eyes to his. “Yes of course,” you assured him, putting your fork down to show him, he had your attention. Lewis took a deep breath, mind wandering a hundred miles per second as he tried to figure out what to say and how. He knew how he felt, but he didn’t know how to start the conversation he wanted to have.

“About yesterday-“ Lewis just got to mumble out before there was a firm knock on the front door. Lewis felt his confidence crumble down, words disappearing from his vocabulary as his mind shut down. “I’m sorry, I’ll go check who it is,” you assured him, thinking that if he was left to himself for awhile, then he would figure out what to say, as you found it quite obvious he didn’t know how to explain himself. You of course knew what he wanted to talk about, and to be honest you understood why he found it hard having that conversation. You wanted to have it too, but you didn’t know what to say.

You didn’t know what to feel.

Soon you opened the door, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw your boyfriend stand in front of you, a weak smile on his lips. His hands were in his pockets, a thing he only did when he wanted to apologise to you for something, which happened more often than you would like to admit.

“Hey,” he smiled at you affectionately, his cheeks seeming to have a reddish colour, but you didn’t know if it was the cold weather or something else that had caused it.

“Hi,” you responded as you felt your heart speed up, the need for air suddenly getting bigger. Sweat was beginning to form in your palms, at the same time as tears came to your eyes. It was obvious you were panicking, or at least to you, and Connor could see something was wrong as well.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, I shouldn’t have been such an asshole,” he apologised rather genuinely, which made your heart drop. Here he was apologising to you, and you had cheated on him. Not just a kiss, not a make out, no you had had sex with another man. And it had felt good. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you were in Lewis’ clothes, and you dragged the t-shirt further down to cover up the obvious fact that you did not own male boxers.

“I know you’re very close with Lewis and you share clothes for whatever reason,” Connor pointed to you, which made you stop dragging down the shirt, realising that he had seen. “But I trust you, and I love you, so when you say he’s just your best friend, well then I believe you. I’m sorry for acting the way I did, it was irresponsible of me.”

A tear escaped your eye before you could do anything about it, and Connor watched as you fought not to break down in front of him. But he must have thought that you cried for a different reason than you did, because he pulled you in for a hug, letting his hand rub up and down your back. You moved your head around, trying to breathe properly, as being in his arms didn’t feel like it should. Though you convinced yourself you were overreacting, and that you loved him back. When Connor pulled away, he placed a tender kiss on your lips, but again you felt like something was missing. Something about the way he kissed you was off, there was something wrong in the way you felt.

“Can I come inside?” You couldn’t do anything but nod at his question in pure fright of him realising something was up.

Lewis couldn’t hear the conversation that was held out at the front of the house, and to be honest he used his time alone to figure out what to say to you. So when he suddenly heard footsteps coming back inside, he was almost ready to ingulf you in a hug as soon as you walked through the door, but when he looked up, he saw none other than Connor following you into the room. To Lewis’ surprise the younger man waved at him with a friendly smile, his arm around your waist. Though your expression was different to your boyfriend’s. You looked lost, at the same time as looking like you were on the edge of having a panic attack. Couldn’t Connor see that?

“Hey Lewis, I just wanted to say something to you quick,” Connor sat down in the seat beside Lewis, for some reason not caring about the fact that Lewis was without shirt, or surely looked like someone who was about to pass out. “I’m sorry for being such a dick towards you, I’ve just had trouble with the fact that you, a Formula 1 star live with my girlfriend,” he explained himself in such a calm way, that made Lewis feel guilty. This was a new side of Connor for sure, but he seemed genuine. He seemed to care about what he was saying. “I guess I’ve been jealous, but that’s over now, I promise.”

At that sentence, your and Lewis’ eyes locked together, silent panic seen in both, as you knew you were screwed.

Connor stayed for longer than you would have wanted, just talking to the two of you as you ate breakfast. Lewis had offered to make an omelette for Connor, as he wanted to get away from the situation, but the younger man had told him that he had already ate breakfast, which left Lewis trapped in the room. You looked even more uncomfortable than himself, which made Lewis feel bad, as he thought it was his own fault that this was going on. If he had just controlled himself, you wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation. You would be happy to be with your boyfriend. But now he had ruined it, he had ruined your relationship with your boyfriend in what he thought was a purely selfish manner.

But it was soon time for Connor to leave again, so you walked with him towards the entrance of the house.

“It means a lot to me that you’ve forgiven me,” Connor breaks the silence as the first one, giving you a smile. But that comment made you furrow your brows. Had you actually forgiven him? The pain from last evening was still heavy in your heart. It was one piece of many, from all the times he had lashed out at you, or straight up ignored you to prove a point. You didn’t want to do that anymore. “Connor, look, I haven’t forgiven you yet, but I do really appreciate the apology. Just please give me some time.” You gave him a sympathetic smile, hoping that this new and improved man before you would understand. Actually, you were convinced he would, because after his little speech earlier it sounded exactly like what he was planning to do.

“What, why?” He seemed confused his wall of defence high as he spoke loudly, and it made you take a step back. Your heart beating quicker. You thought of the best way to phrase yourself, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just last night Connor, so I’m gonna need some time. But if you really do change, then we’ll be good.” You still spoke in a soft tone, really trying to do your best to seem bearing and sincere.

Connor scoffed loudly at your response. “Oh come on, are you seriously bringing up the past now? I thought we were moving forward! I apologised, didn’t I?” His voice was filled with anger now, and it made you feel small. This was the Connor you couldn’t love anymore, the guy you wanted to be done with. The guy he swore he had changed away from.

“Yes you apologised for that one thing, but if you can’t see there’s more to this than yesterday then I seriously don’t know how to explain it to you.” You snapped back at him, but your voice was still not that loud. In your mind you wanted to shout, to scream at him actually. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, and it wasn’t out of love you realised. It was out of fear. Of what he could do then.

“Oh so this is just a guilt trip huh?” He almost mocked you, taking a step closer to you. You felt yourself take another step away without even thinking of it, trying to gather your thoughts. But he spoke up before you could muster out a reply. “Typical. You’re acting like I’m the worst guy ever just because I messed up once.”

You couldn’t stand there and take it anymore, because what he was saying was truly insane to you. It was as if you had been living separate lives, experienced separate situations. “It’s not just once Connor. And the fact you think it is… that’s the problem.” You finally got out, not even looking at him anymore, but instead just straight ahead. It was like you realised it yourself now.

There was nothing left about this relationship to save.

There hadn’t been anything to save in a long time, but you had kept making excuses. Making excuses for him. Allowed him to walk all over you, mistreat you. But you didn’t want that anymore. No, you weren’t gonna allow him to be that way. You were done.

“Oh I get it now. This is about him.” Connor suddenly spoke, bringing you back to reality. You were speechless, but you knew your confused look told him everything he needed to know. “Lewis. It’s always about Lewis, isn’t it? You fucking live with the guy, you probably run to him every time we fight. Don’t you dare tell me he hasn’t been in your ear about how much of a ‘toxic asshole’ I am.” He spoke with venom, pointing a finger at you as if it would make his point clearer.

That was it for you. The glass had fully shattered, and any feelings whatsoever you had ever had for him were gone. The person who stood before you was a fucking bully, and you needed him out of your house.

“The fact you go back to that shows you aren’t gonna change. This has never been about Lewis, it’s been about you and me, Connor.” You were clearly annoyed now as well, but you didn’t let your emotions get the best of you. You tried your very best to stay calm, to keep the upper hand.

Connor laughed. “Right. Because it’s totally normal for your best friend to be a guy who’s practically your boyfriend without the title. You think I don’t notice how he looks at you? Or how you always talk about how ‘great’ he is?” The sarcasm spilled from his lips as he spoke. He apparently thought he was hilarious for that comment, but you kept standing still, your face unreadable.

“You’ve told me all I need to know. I can’t keep picking this fight, and I won’t be doing it either. Cause we’re done.” You spoke clearly, crossing your arms as you gave him a stern look. Watching how calm you kept under this argument only made him more furious.

“So what, you’re just giving up on us? After everything?” He asked mockingly, but it wasn’t like he was surprised it was over. It more seemed like he was mad you were the one to say it. “No I’m finally choosing myself.” You clarified, taking a few steps towards him, which made him back out of the door. “Goodbye.” You said, and just like that you smacked the door in his face.

Walking back into the house you saw Lewis in the exact same place you had left him, the dining room table. His look on his face told you everything you needed to know. “Hey… you okay?” He spoke up finally as you just stood there in the room, looking a bit lost. You sighed heavily, forcing yourself to nod. No that break up hadn’t been a pretty sight, but it was finally over. And that meant you actually were alright. Or at least you would be.

“I broke up with him.” You said, finally looking over at Lewis properly, catching his gaze on you. He nodded at your words. “Yeah, I heard.” He admitted, but it wasn’t like it was a surprise to you. Of course he had heard. You knew that. You just let out a small chuckle, as did he, and you took a few steps towards him, but didn’t sit down at the table. You felt like you still had to take what just had happened in.

Suddenly Lewis got up from his seat, and walked towards you. Without even thinking of it, he took your hands in his, and looked you deep in your eyes. Just for a second you watched your hands in his, before looking up to meet his eyes. Those big brown eyes. “You did the right thing. You deserve someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.” He admitted, his voice full of love.

You took a moment before you answered. “Yeah? And what do I deserve?” Right now you felt a bit lost, so you genuinely couldn’t tell what you exactly deserved.

Lewis took a deep breath before he spoke again. “You deserve someone who really sees you. Someone who listens to you, supports you, and makes you feel like you’re enough every single day. You deserve someone who…” he trailed off, his voice suddenly shakier than before. It made you furrow your brows ever so slightly, because Lewis never got nervous like that. Yet you still couldn’t help but smile, his words so kind and gentle they made you want to hug him as tightly as you could. Lewis took a deep breath before he spoke up again “Someone who loves you. The way I do.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession. All you could do was blink at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Lewis,” you spoke softly. His confession was huge. It made you feel magical. You could barely contain yourself, it felt like, your heart beating so fast it could leap out of your chest.

“I know it’s a lot. And I don’t want to make this harder for you. I just… I couldn’t not say it. Not after last night. Not after how I heard him speak to you just now.” His words rolled off his tongue quickly, almost like in an endless stream of mumbling. You had never seen Lewis this nervous before. You desperately wanted to respond, you really did, but you felt taken aback by his confession. Your mind was screaming at you to tell him you felt the same way, but nothing came out.

It seemed like Lewis had somehow read your mind, because he spoke up again. “You don’t have to respond. I just wanted you to know.”

But that made you find your voice again. “Lewis, I love you too.” You said, the feeling that bubbled in your chest as you said it just felt right. So right you knew this is exactly what you had been searching for your entire life.

“Yeah?” A big smile slowly appeared on Lewis’ face at your confession. You nodded eagerly. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t even tell who leaned in first. Maybe you didn’t even care. What mattered was that your lips met, in a soft and gentle motion. But that quickly turned more passionate, Lewis hands wrapping around your waist and yours around his neck. You needed each other as close as you possibly could, desperate to taste the other. You couldn’t get yourselves to break away from the kiss, but eventually you needed air. With his forehead resting against yours, Lewis whispered: “I’m never letting you go.”

[sailorrhansol]

Baby | Teaser | ksy (m)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Teaser Word Count: 478

Genre: Mafia, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Teaser Warnings: Very mild angst but mostly just affection :)

A/N: I want to emphasize that in this fic, everyone is associated with criminal behavior and deeply ingrained in a Syndicate culture in which illegal activity, violence and drug use is the norm. If you cannot handle that - especially because I make no attempt to moralize their behavior - this isn’t the fic for you. Additionally, there are violent scenes. It is a violent story. That’s okay if this isn’t for you, just skip this one. I don't lean into gore and I keep it short and specific as possible.

A/N 2:  I have been working on this specific fic for months - I really hope you like it. It is dark in a lot of places but it's also deeply emotional and touching as well. I think this will be one of my favorite works I've done in recent years, so I hope at least someone enjoys it!

Coming January 1, 2025

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask | Playlist

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask

-

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

[uncannydevotion]

a/n: i've been thinking abt this request a lot lately so i've decided to finally write it. only took me two million years <3

includes: ticci toby, the bloody painter, x-virus, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread i am writing this all in one sitting let's hope it's good, attempted murder against the reader in toby's part, angst! :jazz hands:, injuries, blood, panic attack in toby's part?? kinda?? you could call it that or you could say slender was doin some weird shit to his head, mentions of murder, mentions of past bullying, stalking, helen's kinda obsessed, unhealthy relationships, dead parents, needles, whatever the fuck cody injects into people, very morally ambiguous reader in cody's part, brief but slightly descriptive murder, randy is a warning i guess, mentions of fire, mentions of near death experiences, cigarettes, a gun, sully points a gun at reader but there's no real attempt of murder, a test to see how much i remember jeff's story cause i am Not rereading it it's 3am as im writing this.

TICCI TOBY

You really don't know what had compelled you to go into the forest so late at night. No... no, that's a lie. You do know. You knew exactly what had brought you to this forest.

Maybe you were crazy but you could've sworn you had seen your childhood friend at the edge of the forest near the cemetery the other night. It's so stupid, you knew that.

He's been missing for years now, classified as on the run after brutally killing his father, but you just... you had to know.

That's why you had entered the forest that night. No one else would be around, but... you really should've thought ahead, honestly. You should've brought a pocket knife, or some mace, or anything.

But how were you supposed to know that you would end up getting chased through the woods by a fucking crazy guy with hatchets? You don't even know where he came from, he just threw one of the hatchets at you and narrowly missed!

Consider yourself lucky, or whatever, but he seemed fairly determined to kill you.

You hid behind a thick tree, taking a moment to catch your breath. You're not sure how deep in the forest you had gone, but the area was starting to look familiar, so you assumed that you were getting close to the cemetery connected to the town.

But he was catching up to you, and fast. It's not like you could just fight him off, he had the advantage with, y'know, the hatchets.

Quick thinking is what leads to you grabbing a fairly sturdy branch from the ground. It was heavy, but you didn't have the luxury of caring about that right now as you pressed your back against the tree, forcing yourself to steady your breathing.

The sound of tongue clicking was familiar, and it grew closer and closer. You could hear leaves and twigs being stepped on. Cautiously, you took a glance around the tree. The man's back was turned towards you, but he was looking around.

Looking for you.

You knew this was the one chance you had, so you tried to be extra quiet as you approached him, raising the branch up high and using all your strength to knock him over the head with it.

The man falls to his knees, and as soon as he dropped his hatchets, you dropped the branch and snatched the weapons away, throwing them somewhere deeper in the forest just so he wouldn't be able to use them to hurt you.

Now, you knew you should've ran. He was no longer a threat, but... the tics, the way he didn't react to the pain of getting hit over the head like you thought he would've... he seemed dizzy, sure, but he was bleeding. He wasn't clutching his head, he wasn't hissing in pain.

It was all familiar, and it reminded you of...

"Toby?" You sounded breathless, chest heaving as you stared down at him.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, and behind his cracked goggles, you can see the way his eyes widened. Even though most of his face was concealed, you could see the...

Fear? Confusion? You're not sure what emotion it was, but it was so evident in the way he recoils from you when you reach out to him.

"Toby... what-" You couldn't even get another word out before he was interrupting you.

"No! No. No. I don't kn–click–know you." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded pained. Not from the injury you had given him, but... as if there were something else.

You really don't know what's happening, all you knew was that the man you had considered to be your best friend when you were younger had just tried killing you, and is acting as if he doesn't know you.

No... not acting. His confusion, the lack of recognition, it was all real.

You couldn't get another word in before he was breaking down, clutching his head as if something was screaming inside it, "I don't know you! I don't know you!"

The pure agony in his voice had you stumbling back. Clearly, your presence wasn't helping him. Guilt clawed at your insides, and even though you didn't want to leave him like this, even though you wanted to figure out what had happened all those years ago, you knew you had no choice.

You stumbled out of the forest, the sound of Toby screaming echoing around you.

And though it was faint, you swore you heard static as well.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Being friends with Helen had been hard, even before he killed almost the entirety of his class. He rarely ever spoke to you, and half of the time you wondered if he even thought of you as his friend.

You stood up for him against people like Judy and Ban, but there was only so much you could do.

There was one memory that you always thought of, even after you had grown up. It was the night before the school's Halloween party, and you had dropped by Helen's house to get his help on picking out a costume.

He had seemed... really distracted, that night. He wasn't fully there. When you asked him if he was okay, he just...

"Promise me that you'll stay my friend, no matter what happens."

It had caught you off guard, but you had made the promise. The next night, he killed his classmates before your parents dropped you off at the school. You didn't see him after that, because your parents refused to let you associate with him.

And now, years later, something was wrong.

You had heard from Helen's mother, months ago, that he had been released from the institution he had been in, apparently no longer a danger to himself or others, but he just...

Disappeared. Cut all contact.

And shortly after his release, you heard from an old friend that Judy and Maggie, two of the few classmates that had survived the massacre, had gone missing, along with the other three survivors.

Something deep down in your gut told you that it was Helen. When the bodies of the missing had been found inside of Helen's childhood home, you just knew.

You should've gone to the police, really, but it's not like they didn't already know. There was a manhunt out for Helen the moment the bodies were found, but he was long gone.

It's not like you had to be worried or anything, right? You were in a completely different state, living in a large city. You haven't spoken to him since you were kids, and it's not like he knew where you were at, right?

Well, you were wrong, apparently.

When the stalking started, you didn't want to believe it was Helen. I mean, seriously, why would he want anything to do with you? Unless...

You didn't want to think about it, but... he had gone back and killed all the survivors of his original massacre. And... you were technically a survivor, if only because you were late to the party. He didn't plan on killing you, did he?

Though, that fear was quickly squashed when he started leaving you gifts. They were nothing major, mostly sketches of you. They weren't signed, but you knew who they were from.

The feeling of eyes on you was something you just couldn't get used to, and you swear you started seeing him when you were out in the city.

You wanted to go to a bookstore? Helen was across the street. Taking a walk in the park? You swear you saw him sitting on a bench, sketching.

It felt as if you were going insane, honestly.

You... you really should have gone to the police, you think, when you got home one night to find your roommate hanging from the ceiling, their neck slit and their blood painted all over the walls.

In your roommates blood, on your wall, a heart was painted, followed by a question mark. Was this... a love confession? Was he asking if you loved him?

When you took a step back, towards the front door, you had bumped right into him. He was on you in an instant, and his hand covered your mouth to prevent your scream from being heard by anyone.

"Shh... I'm not going to hurt you. We made a promise, remember?"

X-VIRUS

Living at an orphanage had never been easy. You still remember the day you first arrived. Your parents had both died, and you had pretty much closed yourself away from everyone, refusing to interact with any of the other kids.

The caretakers had been concerned, especially when the other kids had started picking on you for being quiet and 'weird'.

In comes Cody, a kid your age with absolutely no filter and no regard for what was considered right or wrong. To this day, you still don't know what it was about you that made him hang around, but the moment he got to the orphanage, he was by your side almost all the time.

Whenever one of the other kids messed with you, they'd always end up getting injured in some way because of Cody.

Cody was the only person you were willing to speak to, other than the caretakers. He brought you out of your shell, and made you laugh with his stupid, poor-timed jokes. You even became his nurse, essentially, patching up his wounds whenever he got into fights over you.

The day he was adopted was the worst day of your life, you think. It's the first time you cried since your parents died, and you remember clinging onto him, begging him not to leave you.

It was a pretty embarrassing memory, to be honest.

You weren't as lucky as Cody had been. No family was interested in adopting you, and you ended up aging out of the orphanage. Life never got better for you, even after you left the orphanage.

You didn't have many friends, and your coworkers all tended to avoid you because of how apathetic you were. Truth be told, you didn't have any interest in anything.

Every single day, from the moment Cody had been taken from you, was literal hell in your mind. The loneliness, the constant doubts, the self-loathing, everything. It was so much. Almost too much, at times.

But that all changed when you were walking back to your dingy apartment one night after a late shift. You lived in a fairly unsafe area, but the rent was cheap, so you couldn't complain.

Walking by an alleyway, something caught your attention.

It was cliché, honestly. You didn't care if anyone might have been in trouble, but a morbid curiosity got the better of you when you heard someone crying for help.

Taking a stroll down the alleyway, you reached the end and saw something you truly weren't expecting. A man was laying on the ground, a headwound visible while another man stood over him, fiddling with a needle and some sort of liquid you didn't recognize.

"Would you shut up? There's nobody around to hear you,"

That... that voice...

Your eyes widened, but not because you just witnessed some poor guy get injected with a suspicious liquid.

The injured man starts gasping, and foaming at the mouth. Your eyes meet, and he reaches out to you, croaking for help. You just stand there, watching as the man died.

And when you look up, you meet the gaze of the man who killed him. But you weren't scared. You should be, you knew that, but you weren't.

Cody pulls down the mask he was wearing. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see you, almost as if he knew you had been watching.

"Miss me?" He asks. He was smiling, as if he hadn't just killed someone. So many questions were swirling in your mind, but the only thing you could really focus on was the fact that Cody was here, in front of you.

For the first time in years, you smile.

"Yeah."

HOMICIDAL LIU

When a new family moved in next door with two boys close to your age, your parents had practically forced you to go over and introduce yourself to them, trying to get you to make friends.

You weren't at all interested, but you also didn't want to get in trouble, so once they had settled in, you went with them to be neighborly.

Liu and Jeff were the names of the kids. Liu was the older one, only a few months younger than you, and as mean as it was, you were definitely more interested in hanging out with Liu more than his little brother.

It's not that you hated him or anything like that, but... you were a kid, y'know? The thought of hanging out with someone younger than you, even if only by three years, was weird. It's something you felt guilty about now, as an adult, but it's not like you could change the past.

Besides, you and Liu weren't even friends. Not when you two had first met, at least.

You walked to school with him, and you had a few classes together at school, but you already had your own group of friends, and you just weren't interested in making any new ones.

It wasn't until his brother started to get bullied that you two started to develop a bond. You were one of the few people who didn't tolerate Randy's bullshit, so you never hesitated to stand up for Jeff when you were around.

Liu liked that about you.

When he had gotten arrested after falsely confessing to beating up Randy and his goons, you did your best to protect Jeff while he was gone.

To this day, you can't help but blame yourself for everything that happened. The day Jeff had been lit on fire, you had been stuck at home because of the flu. You still remember the scream of pure agony you heard from his mother next door when she got the call.

There were many things you wish you had done differently back then, but alas. Time marched forward.

As far as you knew, Liu died that night Jeff brutally killed his entire family, and you made sure to visit his grave whenever you had time to spare.

Today was one of those days. The sky was filled with clouds, and you had bought some flowers.

Everyone in town viewed the Woods family in a negative light because of the terror Jeff had caused, and still continues to cause to this day, so their graves don't get taken care of.

You do the best you can, but it's hard to prevent neighborhood kids from vandalizing the grave every other week.

But you were pleasantly surprised to find someone sitting behind Liu's tombstone, smoking a cigarette. You had thought that maybe it was an estranged family member, maybe, but as you approached, you couldn't help but notice that the scarf around their neck was eerily similar to the one Liu had gotten a few weeks before his death.

"Uhm, hello?" You call out, curious as to who this visitor could possibly be.

You did not expect for a gun to be pointed at you.

You blink, staring at the gun for a moment, too bewildered to register the fact that you should probably be scared. Hell, you didn't even have much of a chance to register the gun before you found yourself more distracted by the person holding it.

He looked... eerily familiar.

The scarf. The scars littered across his face, on his neck. They reminded you of the reports you read about the wounds Liu had sustained before dying in the hospital.

It was stupid. There's no way it's actually him. No way. He didn't even seem to recognize you. He had a fucking gun pointing at you, for crying out loud!

This was not Liu.

So why did he feel like him?

"...Liu?"

Your voice caused his gaze to change. The gun lowered slightly, his brows pinching together. And in a split second, it's as if he was a different person entirely, the way his eyes widened in recognition.

His gaze dropped to the gun that he had been pointing at you, and he looked absolutely mortified, dropping it and the cigarette he had been smoking.

"I can explain." He says, but he honestly seemed just as lost as you were.

...It was going to be a long night.

[twistedtwintaker]

ALL I EVER BRING IS LOSS

Agatha x Rio x witch reader ( but i didn't really write about witchcraft)

WARNING: Emotional Anguish and Angst, Abandonment Issues, Mental Struggles, Death and Mortality, Kissing... its that even a warning?

( I feel like Rio would definitely be affected by the things they say about her, even after centuries)

The air in the house was cold. Not the chill of winter, but the kind that seeps into your soul, heavy and unshakable, when words have been spoken that cannot be unsaid. Agatha sat by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting shadows on her sharp features. She held a glass of wine in one hand, though she hadn’t sipped it in hours. Her eyes, usually so full of wit and mischief, stared into the fire as if it could burn away the tension hanging thick in the room.

You stood by the doorway, arms crossed tightly against your chest, as though holding yourself together. Agatha hadn’t spoken to you since Rio had left again without warning. It wasn’t anger that simmered between the two of you—it was grief, raw and unspoken. Grief for something you couldn’t yet name, but felt like it would destroy you if it was voiced aloud.

And then, there she was.

Rio stood in the doorway, her tall frame illuminated by the silver glow of the moon behind her. Her dark coat clung to her shoulders like a shroud, and her face—oh, her face—was etched with something you rarely saw in her: hesitation. She was Death incarnate, unyielding, timeless, yet in that moment, she looked utterly human. Fragile, even.

Agatha was the first to speak, her voice low and sharp, slicing through the stillness. “This is the sixth time this month, Rio,” she said, rising from her chair with slow, deliberate movements. She set the untouched glass of wine down on the table beside her, her hands shaking ever so slightly.

“You leave without a word, without so much as a damn goodbye. For days. For weeks. And every time, you come back like nothing happened.” Her voice cracked, though she tried to mask it with her usual sharpness. “Why? Why do you keep running? If you stayed, what? You’d feel something? You’d let yourself be loved? You think running away is easier than facing whatever it is you’re so damn afraid of?”

Rio didn’t respond immediately. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with deliberate slowness. The sound of it shutting felt like the final nail in a coffin. Her dark eyes met yours, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. Her gaze wasn’t cold—no, it was worse. It was full of regret, the kind that seeped into every corner of a person’s soul and stayed there.

“I have a job to do,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I am Death, after all.”

Agatha let out a sharp, humorless laugh, her hands gesturing wildly as she began to pace. “Your job? That’s your excuse? Do you think we don’t understand what you are? What you do? We know, Rio. We’ve always known. But this isn’t about your job. This is about you running. Running from us.”

Your voice broke through, softer but no less heavy. “Rio... why don’t you just tell us what’s going on? Why do you keep leaving?”

Rio’s gaze flickered between you and Agatha. For a moment, she looked as though she might not answer, as though she might bolt again. But then, she let out a long, shaky sigh and ran a hand through her dark hair. “The souls I take... the ones I guide to the afterlife... they’ve been saying things.” Her voice wavered, and for the first time, you saw the cracks beneath her stoic exterior.

Agatha froze mid-step, her expression shifting from anger to something softer. Concern. “What things?” she asked, her tone quieter now, though it still carried an edge.

“They fight me,” Rio said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t want to leave the living. They claw, they scream, they curse me. They... they say things that stay with me.” She hesitated, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “They say I’m cruel. That I tear apart families. That I take away the people they love. And then...” Her voice broke, and she closed her eyes, as if trying to shut out the memories. “And then they ask me how I can ever claim to love anyone when all I ever bring is loss.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your heart aching for her. Agatha’s hand slowly unclenched, and she took a step closer to Rio.

“Rio,” you said softly, taking a hesitant step toward her. “You know that’s not true. What they’re saying—”

“Is it not?” Rio interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling. She opened her eyes, and you saw the glimmer of tears there. “I’ve taken mothers from their children, lovers from each other, friends who never got to say goodbye. Who am I to love? To have something like this?” She gestured between the three of you, her movements frantic now. “How can I claim to love you when I know—I know—that one day, I’ll be the one who takes you both from this world?”

Agatha didn’t hesitate this time. She crossed the room in quick, purposeful strides and cupped Rio’s face in her hands. Her touch was firm but gentle, grounding. “You listen to me,” she said, her voice trembling but fierce. “You are not cruel. You are not heartless. You are not what they say you are. You are Rio. You are ours. And I swear to the universe itself, I will not let you push us away because of some misplaced guilt.”

Rio’s breath hitched, and she closed her eyes again, leaning into Agatha’s touch as though it was the only thing keeping her standing. You stepped forward too, your hand resting gently on Rio’s arm. Her muscles were tense beneath your touch, but as you ran your thumb in slow, soothing circles, you felt her start to relax—just a little.

“We love you,” you said, your voice breaking. “Don’t you understand that? We love you, Rio. Not what you are, not what you do. You. And nothing those souls say will ever change that.”

Rio let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of the universe had finally become too much. Agatha’s thumb brushed away a tear that slipped down Rio’s cheek, her own eyes glistening now.

“I’m sorry,” Rio whispered, her voice breaking completely. “I’m so sorry.”

Agatha pulled her down into a kiss, fierce and desperate, as though she was trying to pour every ounce of her love and forgiveness into that single moment. Rio froze at first, but then her hands came up to rest on Agatha’s waist, holding her as though she might disappear if she let go.

When they pulled apart, Agatha rested her forehead against Rio’s, her breath coming in shaky gasps. “Don’t leave again,” she whispered. “Don’t run from us. Please.”

Rio turned to you next, her dark eyes meeting yours. You leaned up, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was softer, but no less full of love. Her hands moved to cup your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and her voice was barely audible as she said, “I’ll try. For you. For both of you.”

The three of you sank to the floor in front of the fire, still holding each other as though letting go would shatter what little remained of your fragile hearts. And in that moment, the grief, the fear, and the love were all the same—a tangled, bittersweet mess that none of you could escape. But you held on, because even in the shadow of eternity, there was warmth in the here and now.

And for tonight, that was enough.

[muiitoloko]

Hi could you please write a Harry (love actually) x reader in which reader is his wife who suspects that he’s cheating and sees the necklace in his coat and basically follows the plot with the gifts exchange and him giving reader something else causing her to cry, however unlike the movie he later when alone gifts it to reader and he tells her that his receptionist does try to seduce him but no one can come near to reader

Thanks in advance!

Title: Threads of Forgiveness

Summary: A wife discovers a hidden necklace in her husband’s pocket, unraveling doubts about his fidelity. As truths are confronted, they navigate the fragility of love and the strength of forgiveness.

Pairing: Harry ( Love Actually) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request!

Also read on Ao3

You folded the laundry, mechanically smoothing out each piece of clothing, trying to suppress the storm of emotions raging within you. The expensive necklace you’d found in Harry’s pocket earlier that day had burned a hole through your composure. You tried to rationalize it—Maybe it’s not what it looks like, you thought. But the implication loomed over you, undeniable and suffocating.

A necklace like that wasn’t something Harry would buy for just anyone. Certainly not for you, his wife, who had received a Joni Mitchell CD as a Christmas gift just days ago. A thoughtful gift, perhaps, but hardly one to match the elegance of the necklace. If it wasn’t for you, who could it possibly be for?

Another woman.

Your breath hitched at the thought, and you paused mid-fold, your hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. The tears threatened to spill, but you bit them back, inhaling deeply to regain control. You’d spent years devoted to Harry, sacrificing your own dreams to care for him, to nurture his son, Hadrian. Was this how it all ended? With your husband straying to someone younger, someone… shinier?

“Mom?” a small voice called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You quickly wiped at your eyes and turned to see Hadrian standing in the doorway, his 10-year-old frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He looked at you with a furrowed brow, concern evident in his hazel eyes—the same eyes that always reminded you of Harry.

“Can you make me a sandwich?” he asked hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. “I’m busy right now, sweetheart. But there’s turkey breast in the fridge. You can make one yourself, can’t you?”

Hadrian nodded but lingered in the doorway, his gaze searching your face. “Are you okay, Mom? You look… tired.”

Your heart ached at his observation, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine, Hadrian. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

He seemed to accept your answer, nodding again before heading downstairs. You watched him go, your chest tight with the effort of keeping it together. Once you were alone again, you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the neatly folded laundry with unseeing eyes.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry sat on the living room couch, his gaze fixed on the television but his mind elsewhere. A Christmas movie played in the background, but he couldn’t focus on it. His thoughts kept drifting to the necklace hidden in the drawer of his office desk. He didn’t even know why he’d bought it. Or maybe he did.

The intention had been clear at the time: to give it to Mia, his secretary. For weeks, she’d been lingering a little too long by his desk, her flirtations growing bolder. And Harry… he hadn’t pushed her away. If anything, he’d enjoyed the attention. It had been so long since he’d felt wanted, noticed, desired.

Things with you had changed after Hadrian was born. Not overnight, but slowly, like a ship drifting further and further from shore. Your world seemed to revolve around your son, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like an afterthought. He told himself it was selfish to feel that way, but the longing for connection, for intimacy, was a heavy burden.

Still, as he sat there, the box in his desk drawer felt like a physical weight. Could he really go through with it? Could he betray the woman who had stood by him, loved him, and built a life with him? Could he cheat on the mother of his son with someone younger, someone who made him feel alive again but whose allure was nothing more than a fleeting spark?

A loud thudding sound startled him out of his thoughts. Harry turned to see Hadrian bounding down the stairs, his steps echoing through the house.

“Hadrian!” Harry barked, his baritone voice sharp. “How many times have I told you not to run down the stairs? You’ll break your neck!”

Hadrian skidded to a halt at the bottom, wide-eyed at his father’s tone. “Sorry, Dad,” he mumbled, clutching his half-made sandwich.

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… be careful, alright?” he said, his voice softening. “Go eat your sandwich.”

Hadrian nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once more. He leaned back against the couch, his glasses catching the flickering light of the TV. His hazel eyes stared unseeingly at the screen as he grappled with the weight of his actions—or, rather, his inaction.

The box in the desk drawer loomed large in his mind, a decision waiting to be made. Would he open it and let it define his choices? Or would he bury it, along with the temptation that had brought him to this point?

Upstairs, you sat in silence, staring out the window at the falling snow, the quiet of the room broken only by the soft rustle of the curtains. Unspoken questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you.

And downstairs, Harry stared at the screen, his chest tight with indecision.

Two hearts, two minds, two paths converging on a truth neither of you wanted to face.

The box. The necklace. The shame. His jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his glasses further up his nose. No, he couldn’t let this fester. He wouldn’t stay like this—paralyzed by his mistakes, his cowardice.

With a deep breath, he stood, the decision made in the steel of his resolve. The television flicked off with a click, and the room fell silent except for the faint hum of the radiator. Harry crossed to his office, his heart pounding as he pulled open the desk drawer. Beneath a stack of papers and old receipts, his fingers found the small velvet box. He stared at it for a long moment, his hazel eyes clouded with self-loathing and determination.

This was it.

He climbed the stairs, each step feeling like a penance, and made his way to your shared bedroom. There you were, sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. You didn’t turn when you heard him enter; your silence felt colder than the winter night outside.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, his baritone voice unusually soft, almost pleading.

You didn’t respond, your gaze remaining fixed on the falling snow. He hesitated but then moved closer, his steps careful, deliberate. He knelt before you, his glasses catching the faint light, his hooked nose silhouetted against the soft shadow of the room.

“Please, love,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out to caress your knee. The touch was hesitant, unsure, but still familiar. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. The pain in your gaze hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard and placed the velvet box on your lap, his hand lingering there for a moment as if afraid you might push it away.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice steady but cold.

Harry exhaled shakily, lowering his gaze to the floor before looking back up at you. “It’s a necklace,” he began, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I bought it… for Mia.”

The words felt like knives, each syllable cutting deeper into the fragile fabric of trust between you. Your breath hitched, and Harry quickly continued, his tone desperate.

“She’s my secretary,” he admitted, his hazel eyes searching yours for some glimmer of understanding. “She’s been… persistent, trying to… get closer. And I—” He faltered, his voice thick with shame. “I didn’t stop her attention. I let it feed a part of me that felt… empty.”

You stiffened, your fingers clenching around the edge of the box. “Empty?” The word fell from your lips, sharp and accusatory.

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice breaking as he leaned forward, his hands gripping your thighs. “Since Hadrian was born, everything’s been about him. I don’t blame you for that—I love him, too—but I’ve felt… neglected, invisible. Like I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. You looked down at the man kneeling before you, his face etched with regret, his hands trembling as they clung to you.

“But I couldn’t do it,” Harry continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I couldn’t give it to her. Because no one compares to you. No one. You’re the one who deserves this, not her. You’re the woman I love, the mother of my son, the person who’s given me a life worth living.”

You said nothing, your gaze fixed on the box in your lap. Slowly, you set it aside, and Harry’s breath hitched as he buried his face in your lap, his shoulders trembling. “Please,” he begged, his voice muffled but raw. “Forgive me. I was a fool. I let my loneliness drive me to the edge, but I swear I never crossed it. I love you. Only you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and regret. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his body as he clung to you. Before you could respond, a voice called from downstairs, breaking the moment.

“Mom!” Hadrian shouted. “Where’s the peanut butter?”

Harry groaned against your lap, his voice muffled but laced with frustration. “Bloody hell, that kid has the worst timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, despite the turmoil in your chest. You gently pushed Harry back, his hazel eyes looking up at you, still filled with vulnerability. “Go help him find it,” you said softly, your voice wavering.

“But—” Harry began, his hand tightening on your thigh.

“Go,” you repeated, more firmly this time. “We’ll talk more later.”

“No.” Harry’s voice was resolute as he pushed himself to kneel upright, his hands sliding up to your waist. “Hadrian can find it himself. I need to make things right with you. Now.”

You hesitated, your lips parting to speak, but Hadrian’s voice interrupted again, louder this time. “Mom! I still can’t find it!”

Harry turned sharply toward the door, his baritone voice booming. “Hadrian! Check the upstairs cupboard, behind the cereal!”

A few moments of silence passed before a triumphant yell echoed from downstairs. “Found it!”

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “That boy…”

You laughed softly, and the sound seemed to melt some of the tension in the room. Harry turned back to you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands came up, firm and commanding, cupping your face as he tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze.

“Don’t laugh at me, love,” he said, his voice low, the playful edge tinged with something darker. “I’m not done begging.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hooked nose brushing yours, his warm breath mingling with your own. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his touch both possessive and tender.

“Harry,” you whispered, your hands coming up to cover his. Your fingers trembled as they closed around his wrists, and he stilled, waiting. “I need to know… Did you sleep with her?”

His hazel eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, fiercely. “No,” he said, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his denial. “No, I swear to you, I didn’t. I thought about it, yes. I entertained the idea for a moment, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” His grip on your face tightened just slightly, his desperation evident. “You have to believe me.”

Your forehead dropped against his, your breaths shallow as you tried to process the flood of emotions. His hands remained on your face, steadying you, grounding you.

“I believe you,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling. “But, Harry… If you feel neglected, if you’re lonely… you have to tell me. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I let it fester, and I… I was a bloody fool. I’m sorry.”

Your hands slid down to his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his sweater. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “We can’t let this happen again,” you murmured, your voice steadier now. “If something’s wrong, we talk about it. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Harry replied immediately, his baritone voice low and rough with emotion. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer. “But let me show you something else right now. Let me remind you of what you mean to me.”

You felt the heat of his words, the intensity of his gaze as his fingers pressed into your waist. A spark ignited between you, the tension shifting from uncertainty to something far more primal.

“Harry,” you murmured, your voice wavering as his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shh,” he murmured back, his voice a velvet growl. “Let me worship you, love. Let me remind you that no one else could ever make me feel the way you do. No one else could ever compare to my wife.”

Your resolve wavered as his lips trailed along your jaw, his hands sliding up your back to pull you flush against him. He paused, his nose nuzzling your ear, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his words laced with possessiveness. “Tell me no one else gets to touch you, to see you like this.”

You shivered, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whispered back, “I’m yours, Harry. Only yours.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he claimed your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, desperate, a silent vow that he would never take you for granted again. As he pulled you into his arms, the snow continued to fall outside, but neither of you noticed, lost in the warmth of each other.

Harry’s lips left yours reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. But the sound of a small voice broke the spell.

“Yuck,” Hadrian muttered, his words muffled by the bite of sandwich in his mouth.

You both turned sharply toward the doorway to see your son standing there, a smug little grin on his face. He was holding his sandwich with one hand, the other planted firmly on his hip, looking at you as if he’d caught you both committing a crime.

“Hadrian,” Harry growled, his baritone voice filled with exasperation as he straightened up, adjusting his glasses. “What have I told you about knocking before entering?”

Hadrian shrugged, clearly unbothered. “The door was already open.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry replied, his hazel eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He crossed his arms, his hooked nose accentuating the stern expression he was trying to maintain. “You still announce yourself. It’s called manners, young man.”

Hadrian took another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he tilted his head. “Why do I have to knock if you’re just kissing Mom? It’s not like you’re doing anything weird.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly stood from your chair, brushing imaginary crumbs off your pants. “Hadrian,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered with suppressed laughter, “what do you need, sweetheart?”

Hadrian swallowed his bite, then smiled brightly. “Can we watch a movie together? All of us?”

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath, “This boy and his timing.”

You shot Harry a warning glance, your lips twitching with amusement as you addressed your son. “Of course, we can. Go pick out a movie, and we’ll join you in a minute.”

Hadrian’s face lit up, and he turned to dash off but paused halfway down the hall, spinning around. “But it has to be one we all like! No boring grown-up movies, okay?”

“No boring grown-up movies,” you agreed, chuckling. “Now, go pick one.”

Once Hadrian was out of sight, Harry let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair and mussing it slightly. He turned to you, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “That boy will be the death of me,” he muttered.

You reached out, smoothing down the tousled strands of his hair. “He’s your son, Harry. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry gave you a crooked smile, his hooked nose twitching slightly as he leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. “True,” he admitted. “But he could learn better timing.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his as you both made your way downstairs. “Consider it payback for all those times you’ve interrupted me mid-thought or while I was busy with something important.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock offense in his baritone voice. “I’d never interrupt my beloved wife so carelessly.”

“Hmm,” you teased, patting his arm. “Sure you wouldn’t, love.”

When you reached the living room, Hadrian was already curled up on the couch, clutching a DVD in his hands. “I picked The Incredibles!” he announced proudly, holding it up like a trophy.

Harry groaned dramatically, sinking into the couch next to him. “Superheroes again?”

Hadrian nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll love it, Dad. It’s about a family, and you always say we’re a super team, right?”

Harry glanced at you, his hazel eyes softening as he gave a resigned smile. “Alright, champ,” he said, ruffling Hadrian’s hair. “Let’s see if this family can live up to ours.”

You joined them on the couch, snuggling close to Harry as he put an arm around you. Hadrian nestled between you both, the TV glowing softly as the movie began.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly at peace—together, as a family.

[supernova41st]

Always Forever ✩‧₊˚

Tf2 x Teen!Reader

A/n: Ty to all the people that voted for that poll I did last week! This is sorta ‘recycled’ from this post I made just for Scout, I rewrote most of the stuff for his section. Was going to put ‘Skinny’ by Billie Eilish as the song here but I felt it was too angsty, that has nothing to do with anything I just wanted to share that.

Warnings: ‘Troubled’ Teen, Mentions of period, slight angst,

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

Spy

✭ Since spy is.. spy he knows nearly everything about your background, surprisingly he feels pity for you. He knew that the other mercs didn’t exactly have the best home life but here you were, barely finishing highschool and becoming a mercenary

✭ Although he does feel sorry he still seems like the same bitter spy he is to everyone else, maybe not as much but overall the team can’t sense any different emotions towards you.

✭ Missions with him are fairly awkward, you expected him to say some petty bullshit straight from the start but he mostly just seemed observant of you.

“You just gonna glare at me for the rest of this thing?”

“If it bothers you so much why don’t you crawl back to your mother”

“I can’t go back, you know how my life use to be”

✭ Oof, that kinda got to him.

✭ Like with Scout, he rarely ever calls you by your name/title. He mostly just calls you ‘girl’

✭ He tries to get use to your teenage perks, it’s been a while since he’s been a father so it took a while.

✭ once your teenage girl instinct kicked in once you realized he was snooping around your bunk room, you weren’t happy

“Who was in my room?”

“Cough what?”

“I went in my closet and my shoes were out of order because I put them from my least to most favorite and my converse were next to my combat boo-WHO THE FUCK WAS IN MY ROOM??”

✭ It’s ok, he won’t be snooping around there for a while for his sake <33

Heavy

✭ Every time he looks at you he looks like he’s about to cry. Can you blame him? You remind him of his sisters so much!!

✭ Especially after learning about your rough past.. god he wishes he can just have you move in the cabin with his sisters. It’d be so much better than what you’ve been through.

✭ Since he’s been around girls his entire life he warmed up to you real fast. Will gladly watch your back out in the battle field

“Jesus heavy!! I could’ve taken that shot Yknow? You look like Swiss cheese..”

“It’s alright, little one. Not as frail as you.”

✭ if you forget to ask for pads when goods get shipped to the base don’t worry, he always orders some in case you forget

“(Y/N), Miss Pauling told me that you forgot about Red riding hood visiting.”

“Gasp Oh god.. Thanks so much, Heavy.”

“No problem”

✭ Easily he’s the one you like the most. Not only is he chill but he’s always there for you 🫧

Sniper

✭ Divorced dad core

✭ Honestly he doesn’t really mind how young you are, as long as you can do your job he’s pretty okay with you

✭ Although (as said before) he does give divorced dad vibes. Helping mow the lawn, let’s you have a sip of his beer, spending weekends in his camper van, etc.

✭ He enjoys going on camping trips with you and teaches you how to use his rifle. Once you got injured near your eye because of the harsh recoil, he felt real sorry

“You good mate? Those frozen peas doin’ any good for ya??”

“Sniper I’m fine!! It’s just a bruise”

“Yeah, a big one! Lil’ bugger is already turnin’ yellow.. don’t tell Heavy I did this to ya”

✭ He always has to swat your feet off the dashboard of his car as if it’s not already dirty

✭ will NOT let you play music in there, he says it’s “too sappy for his taste”

✭ (Extra)

✭ Soldier doesn’t like you going out, divorced mom core.

“AH! LOOK WHOS FINALLY HOME FROM SNIPERS, ONLY 2 SECONDS LATE.”

“What?”

Scout

✭ Don’t get him started.

✭ This boy will defend you with his LIFE. (not on the battlefield)

✭ Anyone giving you a hard time? Scouts here!!

“Hey, (Y/N), perhaps before jumping straight into the enemy team you might want to wait for yours to come over??”

“Wow another mission where you blame everyone but your big ass 😐”

“That’s a little out of pocket but I mean.. thanks?”

✭ Miss Pauling and him are your parents now btw. They take you EVERYWHERE with them

“Guys I really don’t have to go, plus I don’t have any extra money to pay for myself anyways”

“We’ll just pay it for ya toots!! You can order all the food you want”

“Yeahh, under 30$ tho.”

✭ Despite how much fun he has with you, he does have a deep connection with you as well. He knows how it feels to be seen as ‘useless’, so he tries his best to make sure you have the best time you can at a place like this.

“You alright, kid? It was gettin’ pretty ugly out there, especially with all that blood splatting all over ya”

“I’m good, I just hope I don’t get any infection since I got some blood on my eye..”

“Ew.. I mean-cool!! That’s pretty sick if you ask me”

✭ Does not ask you about your past, let alone bring it up. Scout may be stupid, but he’s smart enough to know that he’ll probably say something ignorant if the life you gave up ever gets brought up.

[liora-vespera]

In Love's Contract - Jungkook Oneshot

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: non

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/N wiped her damp hands on her skirt, nerves rolling through her as she stood outside the grand Jeon mansion. This wasn’t the life she had envisioned, but life rarely turned out as planned. Her mother’s weak smile and trembling hands were her only motivation to move forward. Her mother needed treatment, and this marriage was the price.

She had been Mr. Jeon’s secretary for over two years, and in that time, she had come to admire him for his professionalism and sharp intellect. When he suggested the marriage, promising to cover all medical expenses and ensure the best care for her mother, she hesitated for days. But with no one else to rely on and mounting hospital bills, she had agreed.

The door to the mansion opened, and the butler greeted her warmly. “This way, Miss Y/N. Mr. Jeon and Jungkook are waiting for you in the study.”

Her heart thudded. Jungkook. She’d heard whispers of him around the office. The prodigal son of Jeon Industries, he had spent years building a name for himself in the US. But his reputation in Korea was far from pristine. Stories of his wild parties, indulgences, and lack of interest in responsibility painted a stark contrast to his father.

Y/N entered the study, a spacious room lined with dark oak shelves and the faint scent of leather. Mr. Jeon smiled at her, his eyes kind. Next to him stood Jungkook, his expression unreadable. He was striking—broad shoulders clad in a crisp black shirt, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed to see through her. Yet, there was a coldness to him, an air of detachment that made her feel insignificant.

“Y/N,” Mr. Jeon began, “this is my son, Jungkook. I believe you two should get to know each other before the wedding.”

The word “wedding” hit her like a brick, and she forced a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

His gaze swept over her briefly before he nodded curtly. “Likewise.”

Mr. Jeon excused himself, leaving them alone in the room. The silence was heavy, and Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. She decided to break it. “I heard you just returned from the US. How was it there?”

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his demeanor nonchalant. “It was fine. I didn’t expect to come back to... this.”

The dismissal in his tone stung, but she pressed on. “I understand this arrangement isn’t ideal for either of us, but—”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “I’m not interested in this marriage. My father thinks tying me down will change me, but I have no intention of becoming the perfect son he wants. This is just a game to him.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll go through with this for a year,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “One year to see what it’s like. If I hate it, we’ll part ways. If it’s tolerable... well, we’ll see. But don’t expect anything from me.”

Y/N stared at him, her world spinning. “A year? That’s all this is to you?”

He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. She wanted to storm out, to scream that she wouldn’t be a pawn in his twisted game. But then her mother’s frail face flashed in her mind.

“For my mom,” she whispered to herself. She looked up at him, determination hardening her features. “Fine. One year. But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

He smirked, as if amused by her defiance. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

The wedding came faster than she anticipated. It was grand, as expected of the Jeon family, but Y/N felt like a spectator in her own life. Jungkook played his part perfectly—smiling for the cameras, holding her hand, and even whispering sweet nothings during the vows. But when they were alone, the mask fell.

The first night in their shared home, he laid down the rules. “Don’t expect me to change. I’ll come and go as I please, and I don’t need you meddling in my life.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “And what about me? Do I get to have rules?”

“Do whatever you want,” he said with a shrug. “Just don’t embarrass me.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N settled into a routine. Jungkook was true to his word—he came home late, often smelling of alcohol, and left early without a word. She buried herself in work and focused on her mother’s treatment, visiting her every chance she got.

But it wasn’t easy. The loneliness of the mansion, the whispers of his escapades in tabloids, and the coldness in his eyes chipped away at her resolve. She tried to keep up appearances, attending events with him and smiling for the cameras, but behind closed doors, they were strangers.

One night, as she sat alone in the living room, the door slammed open. Jungkook stumbled in, clearly drunk. He looked at her, his gaze hazy but filled with something she couldn’t decipher.

“Why do you even bother?” he slurred. “Pretending like this matters?”

She stood, anger bubbling up. “Because it does matter—to me, at least. I didn’t ask for this, Jungkook, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” he laughed bitterly. “Trying to play house with someone like me? Don’t waste your time, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched. “You’re right. This is a waste of time. But you know what? I made a promise, and I’m not breaking it. So, if you want to keep acting like a spoiled child, go ahead. But don’t drag me down with you.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, as if no one had ever dared speak to him like that. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into his room.

---

Y/N lay awake that night, wondering how long she could endure this. One year felt like a lifetime, and yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to Jungkook than the cold, detached man he showed her.

She had no choice but to find out.

Six months had passed since Y/N and Jungkook’s wedding, and life in the Jeon household had settled into a rhythm. While their relationship was far from romantic, the hostility that once lingered between them had softened into something resembling companionship. Y/N continued to fulfill her duties diligently—making his breakfast, ironing his clothes, and keeping the house in order. Jungkook, though still distant, seemed to appreciate her efforts in his own quiet way.

But despite the small progress, Jungkook hadn’t changed much. His nights were often spent outside, indulging in the lifestyle his father disapproved of, and his mornings were hurried, a mere nod to Y/N as he grabbed his coffee and left. For Y/N, it was lonely, but she persevered, keeping herself busy with work and caring for her mother.

Then came the accident.

It happened on a rainy evening when Jungkook was driving back from a business dinner. The brakes had failed on a slick road, and his car collided with a divider. Y/N was in the middle of organizing papers in the study when Mr. Jeon called her. His voice trembled as he explained what had happened, and she rushed to the hospital, her heart pounding.

When she saw Jungkook, lying unconscious with cuts and bruises on his face, a lump formed in her throat. Despite his flaws and the emotional distance between them, the sight of him so vulnerable made her chest ache.

The doctors explained that while his injuries weren’t life-threatening, the impact had severely damaged his knee and hip, making it impossible for him to walk for the time being. “It will take about three months of rehabilitation for him to get back on his feet,” the doctor said.

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. “I’ll take care of him.”

---

The first few weeks after the accident were the hardest. Jungkook was bedridden, unable to move without assistance. Y/N stayed by his side, ensuring he was comfortable, feeding him, and even helping him with tasks that made her cheeks burn—like using the toilet and taking showers. At first, Jungkook resisted her help, his pride taking a hit every time she had to lift or support him.

“I can do it myself,” he muttered one day, attempting to sit up on his own but wincing in pain.

“Stop being stubborn,” Y/N said, her tone firm as she helped him adjust. “You’re not Superman, Jungkook. Let me help you.”

He sighed, frustration evident in his eyes, but he didn’t argue further.

As the days turned into weeks, a quiet routine emerged. Y/N spent her mornings helping Jungkook with his basic needs and feeding him breakfast. She guided him through his physical therapy exercises, encouraging him when he wanted to give up. In the evenings, they sat together in the living room, sometimes watching TV in comfortable silence, other times talking about trivial things.

For the first time, Jungkook began to see a side of Y/N he had ignored before. She was patient, strong, and compassionate, qualities that reminded him of his late mother. He hadn’t spoken about her to anyone in years, the pain of losing her still raw, but he found himself thinking of her whenever Y/N was around.

---

One particularly challenging day, Jungkook had struggled with his walking exercises, nearly collapsing from the effort. Frustrated and angry, he lashed out at Y/N.

“Why are you even doing this?” he snapped. “You don’t have to pretend to care.”

Y/N stared at him, her own exhaustion visible in her eyes. “I’m not pretending, Jungkook. I care because someone has to. And whether you like it or not, I’m your wife.”

Her words hung in the air, and for the first time, Jungkook couldn’t come up with a sarcastic retort. He simply looked away, guilt gnawing at him.

---

By the third month, Jungkook’s progress was remarkable. With Y/N’s constant support, he could walk short distances without crutches, and his confidence grew. Mr. Jeon often visited, expressing his gratitude to Y/N.

“You’ve done more for him than I ever could,” Mr. Jeon said one day, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m thankful you’re here, Y/N.”

She smiled softly. “He’s stronger than he thinks, Mr. Jeon. He just needs someone to remind him.”

---

One chilly night, the first snow of the season began to fall. Y/N was curled up on the couch with a blanket, sipping tea, when Jungkook joined her. He had been walking more confidently lately, though he still favored his right leg.

“It’s cold,” he remarked, sitting down beside her.

She glanced at him, surprised he was choosing to sit with her instead of retreating to his room. “Do you want some tea?”

He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the snow outside. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “You’ve done a lot for me these past few months.”

“It’s my duty,” she replied, though her tone lacked the usual detachment.

“No, it’s more than that,” he said, turning to look at her. His eyes softened, and for the first time, Y/N thought she saw a glimpse of the man behind the cold façade. “Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, unsure how to respond.

As the night wore on, the cold crept into the room despite the heater. Jungkook, noticing Y/N shivering, grabbed the blanket and draped it over both of them. Their shoulders brushed, and the proximity made her cheeks warm.

“Are you always this warm?” he teased, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard it.

She laughed softly, a sound that surprised even herself. “Maybe you’re just cold.”

They sat like that for a while, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. The physical closeness felt natural, but the emotional distance still loomed. Y/N wondered if this newfound warmth between them was a sign of something deeper or just a fleeting moment of comfort.

---

As the night deepened, the room grew quieter, with only the soft sound of snow tapping against the window. Jungkook turned to Y/N, his gaze lingering on her face longer than usual. There was something different in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite decipher but felt drawn to.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She looked at him, her breath hitching under the intensity of his stare. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and the simple touch sent a shiver down her spine.

The cold outside seemed to disappear as the warmth between them grew, a silent understanding passing between them. He leaned closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t.

In that quiet, snow-filled night, the walls that had kept them apart for so long began to crumble. The distance between them faded, replaced by an unspoken connection. As the blanket fell to the floor and the fire in the hearth crackled softly, they found solace in each other, crossing the fragile boundary that had kept their hearts guarded.

It was a moment of vulnerability, a step into the unknown, and while it wasn’t clear where their hearts truly stood, for that night, they chose to let go of the doubts and simply be together.

—

The year had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Slowly but surely, Y/N and Jungkook had slipped into the rhythm of married life, their relationship evolving from cold strangers to something much warmer. They shared moments—cooking meals together, late-night conversations about everything and nothing, and even affectionate gestures that had once seemed impossible.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. For Y/N, it had begun to feel like a true marriage. She thought, maybe, just maybe, this was the life they would continue building together.

But on the morning of their first anniversary, everything fell apart.

---

The Jeon household was lively that day, with Mr. Jeon joining them for breakfast. Y/N had dressed up in a simple yet elegant outfit, planning to visit the church afterward. Jungkook, seated at the head of the table, seemed unusually casual, chatting with his father and even cracking a few jokes. Y/N smiled, thinking that this was how family life should feel.

As they finished their meal, Jungkook leaned back in his chair and glanced at Y/N. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked casually, as though discussing the weather.

The room fell silent. The house chef froze mid-step, and the maid looked on in disbelief. Y/N’s heart plummeted, the meaning of his words striking her like a blow.

“Home?” she repeated, her voice barely audible.

Jungkook, oblivious to the shift in the room’s atmosphere, nodded with a faint smile. “Yeah. You’re dressed up already, so I thought it’d be a good time. I’ll drop you off.”

Her gaze darted to Mr. Jeon, whose face had darkened with disapproval. “Jungkook,” his father began, his tone firm, “what are you talking about? You can’t seriously mean this.”

But Jungkook didn’t seem fazed. “We had a deal, didn’t we, Father? One year. It’s been a year. I think we’ve both fulfilled our ends of the bargain.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten as tears welled in her eyes. She had thought—hoped—that their time together had meant something more to him. That their shared moments, their growing bond, had softened his resolve. But now, it was clear he hadn’t changed his mind at all.

“I’ll... pack my things,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Y/N,” Mr. Jeon called, his voice laced with guilt and sorrow.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. “It’s fine, Mr. Jeon.” She stood and walked upstairs, her steps unsteady as her world crumbled around her.

---

Jungkook drove her to her apartment in silence, the air between them heavy. Y/N sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her wedding ring digging into her palm. Jungkook, however, seemed completely at ease, even cheerful.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “you won’t have to wait up for me anymore. You can finally sleep without worrying when I’ll come home.”

Y/N said nothing, her gaze fixed out the window.

“And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he added. “Seriously, Y/N, you’ve been great this past year. I mean it. You deserve someone who can give you more than this arrangement.”

When they reached her apartment, Jungkook parked the car and turned to her. “Do you want to take anything from the house? It’s yours too, after all.”

Y/N finally looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She slipped off her wedding ring, holding it in her palm. “This is all I want,” she said quietly.

For the first time that day, Jungkook faltered. His casual demeanor cracked as he stared at the ring in her hand. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

Y/N stepped out of the car, clutching the ring tightly. She didn’t look back as she walked into her apartment building, her vision blurred by tears.

---

Back in the car, Jungkook sat motionless, staring at the empty passenger seat. For a moment, the weight of his decision pressed down on him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He had thought she would be relieved, maybe even happy to leave behind the marriage that had started as nothing more than a contract. But the look in her eyes, the quiet heartbreak she carried as she walked away, lingered in his mind.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook felt something unfamiliar—regret. But by then, Y/N was already gone.

—

The morning after Y/N left, Jungkook woke up to the eerie silence of his home. The usual warmth of the kitchen, where Y/N would hum softly while preparing breakfast, was gone. Instead, the quietness wrapped around him, unsettling and cold.

He walked into the kitchen, and the chef handed him a cup of coffee, the same way he had for years before Y/N entered his life. Jungkook took a sip but immediately frowned. It was bitter, not the comforting blend Y/N had made just right every morning.

“Is something wrong, sir?” the chef asked, noticing his reaction.

Jungkook shook his head, setting the cup down. “No, it’s fine,” he muttered, but the emptiness in his tone betrayed him.

As the day unfolded, Jungkook found himself distracted at work. Memories of Y/N lingered in his mind—the way she smiled softly when she handed him his tie in the mornings, her shy blush whenever he teased her with a kiss, the way she’d wave goodbye from the doorway, her eyes full of quiet hope.

He had once found these gestures unnecessary, even annoying. Now, he realized how much they had become a part of his life, grounding him in ways he hadn’t understood until they were gone.

---

Meanwhile, Y/N was determined to rebuild her life. Her mother, fully recovered now, supported her decision to move forward. “You don’t have to stay in a situation where you’re not valued,” her mother had told her when Y/N returned home. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm. She reached out to an old friend who owned a small company and secured a job there. It wasn’t as prestigious as working for the Jeon family business, but it was honest work, and that was all she needed.

When Y/N had first told her mother about the marriage, her mother had been hesitant. “Are you sure about this?” she had asked, worried for her daughter’s future. But Y/N had reassured her, explaining the deal she had made with Mr. Jeon for her mother’s treatment.

Now, seeing the pain in Y/N’s eyes, her mother regretted supporting the decision. “You deserved better than this, Y/N,” she said one evening as they sat together.

“I know,” Y/N replied softly. “But I’m going to be okay now. I just need to move on.”

Her mother nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing that Y/N had sacrificed so much for her.

---

Jungkook’s life, on the other hand, began to feel increasingly empty. Even the things that once brought him comfort—his nights out with friends, the fleeting company of women—now felt hollow. The house that Y/N had filled with warmth and life seemed unbearably cold without her.

He caught himself lingering in the spaces she had once occupied. The kitchen counter where she brewed his coffee, the hallway mirror where she’d check her reflection before heading out, the bedroom closet now half-empty without her clothes.

One morning, as he stood in front of the mirror adjusting his tie, his hands faltered. He realized he missed her small hands fixing it for him, her gentle smile as she whispered, “There, perfect.”

It was in these moments that Jungkook began to acknowledge the truth he had been avoiding: he missed Y/N. More than that, he regretted letting her go.

---

For Y/N, the process of moving on was slow but steady. She threw herself into her new job, making friends among her colleagues and even attending social events to regain a sense of normalcy.

She refused to let herself dwell on the past, though memories of Jungkook occasionally surfaced. She thought of his rare, genuine smiles, the quiet moments they had shared, and the fleeting hope she had once felt for their relationship. But those memories only fueled her determination to leave him behind.

She had given her all to their marriage, and he had discarded her without a second thought. Now, she was determined to live for herself.

---

Back at the Jeon estate, Mr. Jeon couldn’t ignore the change in his son. Jungkook was quieter, more irritable, and noticeably restless.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Mr. Jeon asked one evening over dinner.

Jungkook looked up sharply, startled by the question. “What are you talking about?”

His father sighed, setting his fork down. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been lost ever since she left. Y/N was good for you, Jungkook, but you were too blind to see it.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort but found himself unable to deny the truth. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of his father’s words sank in.

He had thought Y/N’s departure would be a relief, that he could return to his old life without complication. Instead, her absence had created a void he couldn’t ignore.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook felt truly alone. And for the first time, he wondered if it was too late to make things right.

—

Jungkook could no longer endure the void Y/N's absence had left in his life. He had spent days questioning his decisions, replaying every moment they had shared, and realizing how deeply he had wronged her. With a renewed determination, he decided to win her back.

The next morning, he drove to Y/N’s apartment. When her mother answered the door, her expression instantly turned cold.

“Why are you here?” she asked sharply, blocking the doorway.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Jungkook said, his voice steady but laced with guilt.

“You’ve done enough already,” her mother snapped. “You think you can just walk back into her life after breaking her heart?”

“I know I made a mistake,” Jungkook admitted, lowering his gaze. “But I love her. I didn’t realize it until she was gone, and now I’m here to make things right. Please, I just want a chance to talk to her.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what she’s been through? She gave up so much for you, for that ridiculous contract. And you threw her away like she meant nothing!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “I know I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I want to try. Please, Mrs. Y/L/N. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her mother studied him for a long moment, her anger softening as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed heavily, stepping aside. “Fine. But if you hurt her again, Jungkook, I won’t forgive you.”

---

Y/N returned home a little while later, carrying groceries and humming softly to herself. Her smile vanished the moment she saw Jungkook sitting in the living room with her mother.

Her expression turned cold. “What are you doing here, Mr. Jeon?” she asked, her tone sharp and mocking.

Jungkook winced at the formality but stood up. “Y/N, I came to—”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “If you’re here to say something about the contract, save it. It’s over. I’m not part of your life anymore.”

He stepped closer, desperation flashing in his eyes. “Y/N, please, just listen to me. I don’t want the contract anymore. I don’t want a year, or two years, or any kind of arrangement. I want you. I want us.”

She scoffed, dropping her groceries on the counter. “Us? There was never an us, Jungkook. I was just a convenience for you, a way to get your father off your back. I won’t go back to being something you can pick up and discard whenever you feel like it.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “I didn’t realize it back then, but I—”

“Enough!” she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and pain. “You don’t get to come here and act like you care now. You didn’t care when I was there, trying to make it work, trying to love you.”

The room fell silent except for her labored breaths. She turned away, walking toward her room.

But before she could get far, Jungkook grabbed her wrist gently, his eyes pleading. “Y/N, don’t do this. I love you. I know I don’t deserve you, but please... come back.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she yanked her hand away. “I’m not something that can be bought in a store, Jungkook,” she said coldly. “I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”

The argument grew more heated, their voices rising as they hurled their frustrations at each other. Suddenly, Y/N’s face went pale, and her knees buckled.

“Y/N!” Jungkook shouted, catching her before she hit the floor. Her mother screamed, rushing to her side as Jungkook carried her to the car and sped to the hospital.

---

Hours later, the doctor emerged with a smile. “She’s fine. Just some stress and exhaustion. But there’s something else.”

Jungkook and her mother exchanged worried glances. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.

“She’s pregnant,” the doctor announced. “About two months along.”

The words hit Jungkook like a tidal wave. His mind raced back to the moments they had shared—moments of intimacy that now seemed all the more significant. A surge of joy and relief coursed through him.

“It’s my child,” he whispered, his lips curving into a smile.

Inside the room, Y/N sat on the hospital bed, her expression blank as the doctor explained her condition. When Jungkook walked in, his face lit up with a mixture of guilt and joy.

“Y/N,” he began softly, sitting beside her. “We’re going to have a baby.”

She turned to him, her eyes cold. “I’m going to have a baby. You don’t have to worry, Jungkook. I can take care of my child on my own. I don’t need you.”

His smile faltered. “But I want to be there. For you. For our baby.”

“You’re not even my husband anymore,” she said sharply, her words cutting like a knife.

Jungkook reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Y/N, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, let me be part of this. I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

Her eyes softened momentarily, but she quickly steeled herself. “You had your chance, Jungkook. I gave you everything, and you threw it away. This baby is the only thing that matters now.”

As she turned away, Jungkook felt a pang of heartbreak but refused to give up. For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to fight for someone—and he wasn’t going to stop until he earned Y/N’s trust and love again.

—

It had been seven months since Y/N had walked away from Jungkook, choosing to focus on her pregnancy and her independence. Despite the challenges, she had built a new life for herself, working hard and preparing for her baby’s arrival. Jungkook, however, had not given up.

He had spent months strategizing, determined to win her back. He knew Y/N’s pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let her forgive him easily, but he was willing to do whatever it took.

---

One morning, Y/N arrived at her office, ready to tackle another busy day. As she entered the building, she noticed an unusual buzz of excitement among her colleagues.

“What’s going on?” she asked a coworker.

“The company has been sold!” they replied eagerly. “We’re meeting the new CEO today!”

Y/N’s heart sank, unsure of how this change would affect her position. She made her way to the lobby, where the entire staff had gathered with bouquets to welcome their new leader.

As she stood among the crowd, her friend—the former owner of the company—stepped forward with a broad smile. “Everyone, please welcome the new CEO, Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

Time seemed to freeze for Y/N. She stood rooted to the spot as Jungkook entered the room, exuding the same confidence and charisma that had once drawn her to him. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his expression calm and composed as he accepted handshakes and bouquets from the staff.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he approached her. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” someone whispered behind her, nudging her forward.

Swallowing hard, she stepped up, holding out the bouquet reluctantly. Her hands trembled slightly as he took it, their fingers brushing. Jungkook reached out for a handshake, and she hesitated, her mind screaming at her to turn away.

“Shake his hand, Y/N,” his assistant said gently, sensing the tension but remaining professional.

Y/N had no choice. She extended her hand, and as soon as their palms touched, Jungkook’s fingers curled around hers in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just a handshake—it was deliberate, intimate, and far too familiar.

Her eyes widened, but she quickly masked her reaction, pulling her hand away as soon as was polite. Around them, no one seemed to notice the subtle exchange, distracted by the introduction of their new CEO.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on her, his lips curving into a subtle smirk that only she could decipher. It was the same look he had given her in the past, the one that always preceded moments of closeness.

Y/N’s chest tightened with a mix of anger and unease. She turned and walked back to her desk, her mind racing.

---

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to avoid Jungkook, keeping her head down and focusing on her work. But his presence was impossible to ignore. His voice carried through the office as he spoke with authority, and she couldn’t help but feel his eyes on her whenever he passed by.

When she finally managed to sneak away for lunch, she found herself face-to-face with him in the breakroom.

“Y/N,” he greeted smoothly, leaning casually against the counter.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” she asked, her voice cold.

“I’m your boss now,” he said, his tone teasing but firm. “Shouldn’t you address me as ‘Mr. Jeon’?”

Her jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “I’m here for you.”

She scoffed, turning away. “You can’t just buy a company to get close to me.”

“Why not?” he replied, unbothered. “I’ve already made it clear—I want you back, Y/N. And I’m not giving up.”

She spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. I don’t need you, Jungkook. I’ve been fine on my own.”

His gaze softened, but there was determination in his eyes. “I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if I have to. But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Y/N shook her head, her emotions swirling. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not the same person I was before. I’m stronger now. And I don’t need you to take care of me or my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected gently, his voice firm. “And I know you don’t need me. But I want to be there—for both of you. Please, Y/N. Let me prove that I’ve changed.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “It’s too late, Jungkook.”

As she walked away, Jungkook watched her go, his heart aching but his resolve unwavering. He had a long road ahead, but he was willing to fight for Y/N—for their family. And he wasn’t about to give up now.

—

The office was unusually lively that morning. Employees bustled around, laughing and chatting as they shared chocolates and opened their unexpected bonuses. The source of the excitement? Jungkook, who had personally ensured that everyone in the company celebrated his wife's birthday—a wife none of them had met, or so they thought.

Y/N, sitting at her desk, overheard the chatter and felt her blood boil. She had explicitly told Jungkook to keep his distance, but this was a blatant attempt to undermine her wishes. When she saw Jungkook’s assistant and some familiar faces from his old company personally distributing the gifts, she had enough.

Stomping into his office, she pushed the door open without knocking, startling Jungkook, who was lounging on the couch with his legs crossed. He looked up with a lazy smirk as she marched in, fire in her eyes.

“Jungkook!” she snapped, slamming the door shut behind her.

He leaned back, arms crossed casually, and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, my wild cat has arrived. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Stop calling me that!” she hissed, ignoring the heat that rose to her cheeks. “What are you doing? Bonuses, chocolates, announcing my birthday to the entire office? You promised to stay professional!”

Jungkook shrugged, unbothered. “It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t the world celebrate the woman who makes my life better?”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m not—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I want to resign. Effective immediately.”

Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. “You’re not resigning, Y/N.”

“Oh, yes, I am!” she retorted, stepping closer. “You can’t keep using this company to meddle in my life!”

He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You look so hot when you’re mad. Like a wild cat ready to pounce.”

“Jungkook!” she shouted, her face flaming.

Before she could continue, she suddenly winced, clutching her belly as a sharp pain radiated through her body. A soft moan of discomfort escaped her lips, and her anger turned into worry.

Jungkook was on his feet in an instant, his teasing demeanor gone. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I… it’s just pregnancy pain,” she mumbled, trying to steady herself. But the pain didn’t subside, and she felt tears prick her eyes.

“Sit down,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her to the couch. She resisted briefly but gave in as another wave of discomfort hit her.

He crouched in front of her, his face full of concern. “I’m getting some help.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice shaky. “It’ll pass. Just… help me relax.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed a small bottle of olive oil from his desk drawer.

“Why do you have olive oil in your office?” she asked, her voice strained but curious.

“Emergency skincare,” he replied, deadpan, though his focus was entirely on her.

Before she could protest, he gently unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt, exposing her round belly. His touch was surprisingly tender as he poured a small amount of oil onto his palms and began to massage her belly in slow, soothing circles.

Y/N’s breath hitched, partly from the relief and partly from the intimacy of the moment. Jungkook’s hands moved expertly, his fingers warm and gentle against her skin.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of emotion. “I’ve got you.”

As the pain began to subside, he moved to massage her shoulders and legs, his touch firm yet careful. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how deeply he cared.

“Why are you crying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I can’t stand seeing you in pain,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to her belly. “You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. You’re doing this all on your own, and I…” He trailed off, his voice cracking.

Y/N’s heart softened as she watched him cradle her bump gently, his fingers splayed protectively across her skin.

The baby kicked suddenly, and Jungkook’s eyes widened in awe. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in months, she saw the man she had fallen in love with—the man behind the arrogance and teasing.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, both of them pouring months of unspoken emotions into that single moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”

She chuckled softly, her cheeks flushed. “Only if you promise to stop calling me a wild cat in front of people.”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “Deal. But behind closed doors?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, playfully swatting his arm. “We’ll see.”

As the tension dissolved into laughter, the two of them realized that the wall between them had finally come down. They weren’t just co-parents or ex-spouses anymore—they were partners, ready to face whatever the future held together.

END.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 ~

Chapter 14: Twisted Mind (preview / Spoiler / Teaser)

⟢ Danny Phantom Phan Fic • Genre: Angst — Hurt/Comfort • TW: Emotional Distress — Strong Language — Self-destructive Tendencies • Rating: M • AU — OOC • Valerie’s POV

⟢ Full Story here.

Some people called him a hero, others labeled him a freak. But she had seen the truth. She could still picture the look on Phantom’s face as he unleashed that deafening wail, his scream tearing through the air like a banshee’s cry. And the way his human form cracked through the ghostly exterior, flickering like a glitch in reality. Everyone had seen it. The footage had been plastered across every breaking news report, exposing the impossible secret that Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same.

“Val, please,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his composure crumbling right in front of her. “I… I don’t know where else to go.” His glowing eyes glistened, and his shoulders shook slightly, as if he were fighting back tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

She froze.

This wasn’t the confident and clumsy, annoying Danny Phantom—Fenton she knew.

“Y’know, creeping into someone’s bedroom isn’t exactly normal,” Valerie said, standing up from the bed. Her voice was dry, edged with skepticism as she tried to mask her lingering unease.

“I’m a ghost. I can do whatever I want,” he said, his tone laced with an unnatural echo. The irritation in his voice was palpable, his eyes narrowing as if daring her to challenge him.

Valerie’s eyebrow arched, her guard immediately back up.

“Sure,” she said flatly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “That wasn’t creepy at all.”

“I need you,” Danny said suddenly, his voice tinged with self-pity, like he was teetering on the edge of breaking.

“What?” Valerie froze mid-motion, disbelief flashing across her face.

Did he really just say that?

“Kind of fun, right? Same day I got kicked out of the house to celebrate turning eighteen.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound more like a crack in his facade than an actual joke.

For a moment, Valerie just stared, unsure whether to feel sympathy or irritation. The room felt heavy, his words settling in like a cold draft that refused to leave.

“It’s kind of ironic when you think about it, isn’t it?” he said with a hollow chuckle, running a hand through his messy white hair. The glow of his eyes seemed to dim for a moment as he stepped closer, it felt like a predator testing its approach.

Valerie stiffened but didn’t move away. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more—his words, his proximity, or the undeniable fact that she didn’t fully understand what had happened to him over the past year.

But now here he was, in her room, and the sight of him stirred more questions than answers.

Somehow, knowing the truth about him had dulled her anger, but it hadn’t erased her indifference. She didn’t bother much with Danny anymore. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Val, I need you. You need to help me. Please,” Danny said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer, now only a few feet away from her. There was a desperation in his tone that made the air in the room feel heavier, more suffocating.

Valerie exhaled sharply, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t even know how the hell I’m supposed to help you—or with what, Danny,” she shot back, turning her head slightly to glance at him. “You’re such a real weirdo sometimes.” Her words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t backtrack.

“So, it doesn’t matter that I’m turning eighteen today, huh?” Danny said, his tone sharp with bitterness. “Just another day, another low, another high. Right?” His words dripped with sarcasm.

“Danny…” Valerie said cautiously, turning to face him. “It isn’t that big of a deal. You’re right. It’s just another day.” Her voice was steady, but as she turned, her breath hitched.

He was closer than she expected—too close. His face was just inches from hers, his glowing green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the cold radiating from his ghostly form, a chill that seeped through her skin and settled in her bones.

Startled, Valerie instinctively stepped back, her hands reaching behind her to steady herself against the desk. Her heart raced as she tried to mask her discomfort, but the unease in her chest refused to settle.

Something was wrong with him.

“I guess you’re right,” Danny said, his voice quiet, almost broken. “It’s not that big of a deal. Nobody cares. Nobody cares about me, nobody… loves me.” His words faltered, his brows furrowing as his lips curved into a trembling, inverted smile. “It doesn’t matter—I don’t matter, Val.”

“That’s not true,” she said softly, forcing herself to hold his gaze despite the uneasy weight pressing down on her.

But looking into his glowing green eyes, she felt her resolve waver. The cold, ghostly aura radiating from him seemed to seep into her own confidence, making her stomach drop. Something about him in this moment intimidated her in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Do you—care—about me?” Danny asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his words halting and uncertain. “I mean… would you be there for me? When I needed you? Like I need you now?”

⟢ I went NUTS with this chapter. Ohmycheese. I've reread it, revised it, refined it, polished it, whatever—like a hundred freaking times, and it's still not how it should be. I'm tired of it and I really want to publish it. Because! I want to share the other chapters too (duh). So, stay tuned I guess.

⟢ Art is rushed again. Because! I wanted to try out something new, like this kind of layout. Andddd! Today, for the first time—I drew Valerie. Lets go!

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[crookedfivefingers]

Me: Why aren’t there so many more TenMartha shag-or-dies? Let’s write a simple one!

Me, later: Let’s base it on Ten being required to bring Martha to orgasm X amount of times in X amount of ways

Me, several thousand words into new fic whilst actively ovulating: Let’s make Martha a virgin+have Ten be super empathetic and gentle about it because they’re best mates/he knows she fancies him/he wants her to be comfortable+enjoy herself as much as she can

Me, falling apart: Over and above all of that, let’s channel obscene amounts of energy into ensuring it’s in character/realistic/feels like an actual [NC-17] episode

[asahicore]

stupid in love - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. best friend!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. One night early on in your summer vacation, your best friend Sunghoon admits that his biggest anxiety about starting college is going there as a virgin - one thing leads to another, and you end up learning a few things from each other. The more time passes, the more obvious it becomes that your feelings for each other surpass friendship, but with the end of summer looming over your heads, it's hard to tell where these newfound emotions will lead you.

genre. best friends/childhood friends 2 lovers, summer au, lots of fluff and smut but also some angst to spice things up, when i say smut i mean LOTS of smut. like mostly smut lol (mutual first time, ice play, crazy stuff)

word count. 22.1k

a/n. bringing this one back from the pits of my google docs guys.. its been so long since i've posted anything and im not sure when the new hoon fic will be ready so i thought i'd repost an og asahicore fic!!! the title was originally 'hot like ice' but i changed it bc this is my blog and i do what i want <3 i'd also like to say that in terms of plot this is probably not something i would write nowadays, it's very smut-heavy and thats not what im about now idk i was crazy back then... but i rmb being happy w this fic and its reception when i first posted it so i'm happy to have it back on my blog and hope u guys will like it too <3 as always lmk what u think!!

It all started with a lollipop. Well, two, to be exact. One strawberry-flavored, one apple-flavored. 

You stand in front of your friend, lollipops in hand. “Which one do you want, Hoon?” 

“I don’t mind, just pick whichever one you like best,” he replies absent-mindedly, eyes on the TV as he tries to find a suitable movie for this late summer afternoon.

You plop down on the couch next to him and look at the two lollipops in your hands, unable to decide which flavor you like better. “I don’t know what I feel like right now,” you announce to an uninterested Sunghoon. “I’ll just try both.”

That seems to catch your best friend’s attention. He watches as you unwrap both candies, tasting each once, twice, then as you decide you want the apple-flavored lollipop and hand him the strawberry-flavored one. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your lips as you wrap them and swirl your tongue around the candy, letting its sweetness wash over your taste buds. You raise your eyebrows when you notice his staring and he blinks a couple times, trying to snap himself out of it. “Did you want the other one?” you ask, confused by his behavior.

“N-no, I like strawberry,” he stammers, turning his gaze back to the screen in front of you and settling for ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ a movie you’ve both seen a thousand times but never get bored of.

You’re used to Sunghoon getting lost in his thoughts, so you don’t question it much. You sit back on the couch, your knee touching his. You two are no strangers to a little skinship - after being friends for almost eight years, physical contact comes naturally. You have to admit that recently, it’s started to feel different; but the idea of your friendship changing tugs at your heartstrings so much that you ignore the prickles on your skin when he hugs you or the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you, dimples and sharp canines on display. You tell yourself it’s all stupid and that you can handle so much as your knees touching.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, can't. The lollipop in his mouth right now was in yours mere moments ago and you’d given it to him like sharing saliva was no big deal. He feels like a thirteen year-old for thinking like this, but this was pretty much an indirect kiss.

He stares at the TV screen, but all he can see are your perfect lips sucking that lollipop, and his mind is desperately not trying to go there, but he just cannot help himself. Blood rushes to his dick as he pictures your mouth around him, sucking him off with as much enthusiasm as you are the lollipop. Would you like his taste? Would you look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, smiling even with his dick stuffed in your mouth?

His own thoughts catch him off guard, and before they can get any wilder, he runs off to the bathroom, knowing he’d never live it down if you caught a glimpse of his erection. Thankfully, you don’t, and you call after him, asking if he wants you to pause the movie, to which he shouts back a strangled ‘no.’

He comes back ten minutes later, face flushed and breath heavy. “Goddamn, Hoon, I know we’re best friends, but if you’re going to dump a massive load, I wished you did it in your own bathroom and not mine,” you tease him, laughing as his face gets even redder and he opens his mouth to protest.

“I was just on my phone!” he replies, mildly offended.

“Whatever,” you say, still laughing, and turn your attention back to the movie.

Well. Sunghoon would rather have you think he just took a huge shit than have you know he came to the idea of you sucking him off and swallowing every last drop of his cum. 

--

A few days later, you and Sunghoon are lying on his bed, the both of you on your backs, talking about this and that as you often do. It’s almost 3 a.m., and it feels almost rebellious, being up this late after months of waking up at 6, but your high school graduation was a week ago and you feel like you can do anything. The dim fairy lights you forced him to put up and the bright moon outside are the only sources of light in the room, and when you turn to look at him, you can just make out the outline of his face, the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw. You've looked at him a thousand times before, so your memory makes up for what the light takes away from your eyes. You shift to lying on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can take a better look at your friend. Something about the moonlight makes him look ethereal, and his beauty makes your heart skip a beat, but you’d never admit that to him. Out of habit, you reach out to touch his moles, gently placing your middle finger on his nose and your pointer finger on his cheek. Sunghoon closes his eyes at your touch, used to the warm feeling that settles in his stomach whenever you do that.

“Y/N?” he calls out, just as you pull your fingers away from his moles.

“Yeah?”

He opens his eyes again, meeting yours. “Is there anything you’re scared of for next year? You know, heading off to college and all that?” You shift again and lie on your back, the sides of your two bodies touching. You stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking about his question, and Sunghoon patiently waits for your answer.

“I’m scared about not making friends. I’m not the least outgoing person ever, but it’s so intimidating, not knowing anyone. And it’ll be weird not having you around. Shut up,” you warn before he can make an egotistical remark, so he just chuckles. “I’m also worried about the amount of work I’ll have. I’ve heard so many times that it’s a huge step-up from high school, the workload and the type of work and all that. What if I don’t even like the degree that I chose? I know I can change it, but it still stresses me out. Turning 18 doesn’t feel like a huge deal, but going to college does. It’s when all the responsibility hits. My mom told me to make my own doctor’s appointment the other day, and I almost cried when I had to call them. I’m not gonna have anyone to do my groceries for me. I’m scared I might get an awful roommate. I hate the idea of communal showers. I don’t even know what I want to do after college, and I know I have four years to make up my mind, but I’m scared those four years are gonna flash by and I’ll be indebted and unemployed by the end of it.” You pause to take a breath, and you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes on the sides of your face, but he doesn’t say anything. “Also, I heard that you put on a lot of weight during your freshman year.”

You turn to look at him to find him smiling at you. “Wow. That’s a lot.”

The two of you giggle, eyes not leaving the other’s. After a moment, you turn your gaze back to the ceiling and sigh. “Yeah, I know. But I’m more excited than I am scared. What about you?”

Sunghoon follows your gaze and looks up above him. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and when he finally speaks up, he says it so quietly, you almost don’t hear it. “I’m scared of going to college a virgin.”

You try to stay serious for a few seconds, but you can’t keep your laughter in and snort loudly at your friend’s words, laughing so hard your stomach starts to hurt.

“Don’t make fun of me!” he whines, hands coming up to cover his face.

It takes you a while to calm down; not only was Sunghoon’s statement ridiculous, it was so unexpected that you couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologize, catching your breath. “I just can’t believe that that’s what you’re scared of, of all things.”

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable concern,” he defends himself.

“Nobody’s gonna care if you’re a virgin, Hoon,” you try to reason with him, but if there is one thing your best friend is, it’s stubborn.

“I’m gonna care! What if I like a girl but I can’t bring myself to make a move on her ‘cause I have no experience?”

“But Hoon, chances are she doesn’t have a lot more experience than you do! She’ll be the same age we are, dummy. We’re not sixteen year-olds jumping into a world of twenty year-olds. Sure, some people have their first time in high school, but a lot do it at university. You’ll be fine,” you reassure. His furrowed eyebrows and pout tell you he’s not fully convinced, though.

“Oh, c’mon! If you really want to lose your virginity before leaving, we can get you laid during the summer. I’m sure we can find a girl nice enough,” you tease, jokingly patting his bicep, trying not to make a note of how firm the skin feels under your hand.

Sunghoon sighs, and you can tell he’s actually taking this seriously. “I’m not that desperate that I’d have sex with the first girl that agrees, you know. I’d still rather do it with someone…” He glances at you for just a second. “Someone I trust.”

You feel your face heat up at the possible meaning behind his words, so you look away, not wanting him to see the effect they had on you. He changes his position on the bed, and now it’s his turn to prop himself up on his elbows and look down at you.

“What about you, Y/N? Don’t you think it’d be good to get a bit of experience before going off to college? It’ll be one less thing to stress about,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips, and his shy demeanor from moments prior is completely gone. Out of fear that his ego would get even bigger, you'd never tell him, but you love it when he gets like that - when he thinks he’s the shit and teases you mercilessly. You know he does it lightheartedly, and it never fails to bring a smile to your face.

Except right now it does. You’re not smiling, far from it; you’re looking up at your best friend, mouth slightly agape and wide eyes searching for a sign that he may be just joking. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, and your reaction is to scoff at him. 

“Do I need to remind you that you’re the reason I have no experience to begin with, Park Sunghoon?” you ask, sitting up on the bed to peer down at him. He shifts again and lays on his back, his hands coming up behind his head as he beams at you.

“Am I really?”

You wish you could slap that shit-eating grin off of his face. This is not the first time you're having this conversation. “Yes, Hoon. Every time a guy was even remotely interested in me, you chased them away. I’m still not over you telling Kang Taehyun I have smelly feet! I had a huge crush on that guy!”

Sunghoon loudly laughs at the memory, and you curse yourself for cracking a smile when you see his face scrunched in laughter. “That was in Year 5, Y/N! It’s been years!”

You grab a pillow and throw it at his head, unable to not laugh along with him. “What about Bang Yedam, then? That was only last year, and you totally ruined my chances with him!”

“Listen, if you having a creepy doll collection is enough to make him not ask you out, then he must not have liked you that much.”

“But I don’t have a creepy doll collection! That’s the whole point!” you say, on the brink of desperation. You sigh at your friend who’s still catching his breath from laughing so much. “You’re just lucky they didn’t repeat your bullshit to anyone. I would’ve had such a weird reputation otherwise.”

“Of course they didn’t. I told them I’d kill them if they did,” he stated matter-of-factly, as if that was a normal and appropriate thing to do.

“Couldn’t you have threatened them that way so they wouldn’t ask me out instead of lying to them about me?”

Sunghoon stares at you for a few seconds, eyes seemingly empty of thought. “Huh. Yeah, I guess I could’ve done that.”

“Ugh,” you groan, and plop down on the bed next to him. Neither of you says anything for some time, until you break the silence again. “You know you even stole my first kiss, Hoon,” you speak softly.

“I know,” he says, voice just as quiet as yours. “You never shut up about it.”

“Why would I? I was about to kiss Lee Heeseung, of all people, the boy everybody, including me, had a crush on, but no, someone had to get between us and kiss me in his stead,” you grumble, giving your friend a harsh side-eye.

Sunghoon sighs and shakes his head as if you’re being irrational. “I don’t get why you’re so hung-up on that. Why would you want your first kiss to be because of a middle-school party dare rather than have it with your best friend, whom you know and trust?”

“It was Lee Heeseung, for God’s sake!”

“And I’m Park Sunghoon!”

Still both laying on your backs, you turn your heads to look at each other. There’s something in his eyes you’ve never seen before that you can’t quite put your finger on. The person in front of you is one you’ve known for years now and yet the look in his eyes is of such unfamiliar intensity that it makes your stomach flip. You inhale sharply when his eyes drift down to your lips, and you can’t help but mirror his actions. The atmosphere has flipped like a light switch; it was playful just mere seconds ago, the sound of your usual banter filling up the room. All of a sudden, there’s something heavy dancing in the air around you, and it makes your heart skip a bit faster and your breath a bit shallower.

Your voice is barely above a whisper when you say his name.

“Yeah?” His eyes snap back up to yours, but you're still stuck on his lips. Have they always looked so kissable?

“Why did you do that? Why did you push those boys away from me?” you ask, even though you’ve asked this question a thousand times before. You want to hear his answer again.

“I’ve already told you. You deserved better than them.” Whenever you ask him about it, Sunghoon always stops here, and you never push. But there are unspoken words left hanging that you’re dying to hear.

“Who, then? Who’d be better than them?”

He's quiet for a second. “It’s a secret,” he whispers finally, a small smirk teasing his lips, and you roll your eyes at him. But then your eyes meet again and your breath hitches. You shift to your side so you can face him more fully, and he mirrors your actions. 

It’s his turn to say your name. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you kissed anyone since?” he asks, coming off shyer than he’d intended to.

You giggle and smack his shoulder lightly. “Why do you wanna know?”

He snickers too and, to your surprise, stops your fist from hitting him a second time, enveloping his larger hand around yours and laying it between the two of you on the bed. “Cause I should know that sorta thing. Also, if you did kiss someone since then, and I didn’t know about it, I'd be upset.”

“Why would you be mad?” you say, still giggling, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat quickens when he threads your fingers with his.

“Because you wouldn’t have told me!”

“Well…”

“No way, Y/N,” he practically shouts, already feeling betrayed, his free hand coming up to grip his heart in fake shock.

“Let me at least finish first,” you protest. He obliges, although he doesn't look very happy about it. “You know that summer 2 years ago I went away to camp?”

“Yeah, worst summer ever.”

“Well, I did sort of… get with someone, that summer,” you say, avoiding Sunghoon’s wide eyes as he gasps loudly.

“What? Who with? How come you didn't tell me?” he exclaims, letting go of your hand. He sits up on the bed and crosses his arms over his chest like an annoyed child. 

“Because of this exactly.”

“What’s this?”

“Your reaction right now!” you say, sitting up as well, both of your knees grazing his. The simple touch sends a shiver down your spine that you can only hope he takes no notice of.

“Wouldn’t you be a bit upset if I told you I ‘got with’,” he air-quotes, “a random girl two years ago?”

“No? Especially not if it was two years ago?”

You both look just as confused as the other, obviously not on the same wavelength. He furrows his eyebrows and glares at you. “Well, I am.”

You throw your head back in laughter and place your hands on his knees, but when you come forward again, you overestimate the distance between the both of you and find yourself mere inches from his face. The laughter immediately dies in your throat, and you feel it go dry when your stunned reaction elicits a smirk from him. You don’t know how long you stare into his eyes, all you know is you snap out of it when his gaze drifts down to your lips once more. You’re closer now than you were before, and having him so close makes your mind spin with all the possible outcomes of such proximity. You lean back on the bed, pulling away your hands from his knees to hold yourself up on them.

“There’s no reason to,” you say, hoping that breaking the silence will dissipate some of the tension in the air. You keep going back and forth between familiar and dangerous and you don’t know how long you’ll be able to handle that atmosphere. “It’s not like anything grand happened. We made out a bit and held hands. We never spoke after that summer, otherwise you’d have known about it.” 

Sunghoon lets out a low hum. His eyes are still trained on yours, and you wished he’d look away because you can’t seem to do it yourself. He still doesn’t say anything, so you speak up again. “You say that like you’ve never had girlfriends, by the way. Surely you’ve done more than just kissing.” Silence again, and you can’t decipher the look he’s giving you. “So, I don’t know what you’re so scared about, because it’s not like you have zero experience. I’m sure the girls at uni will love you, Hoon.”

He sighs and finally tears his eyes away from yours, and you’re not sure if you’re seeing things because of how dark and late it is or if there’s an actual blush creeping on his cheeks. “Sure, I’ve had a couple girlfriends, but you know they’ve never lasted long,” he says, looking down at his lap. “We made out… I guess I-” he gives you a quick glance, “I’ve touched their boobs and they’ve touched my… you know…”

You can’t help but giggle at how shy your friend is suddenly being. “Can’t even say the word ‘penis’, Hoon?,” you tease, and his eyes snap back up at yours.

“Of course I can. Penis! There.” You look at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, Sunghoon hushing you so you don’t wake up his parents, but his hushes are louder than your laugh. After a couple minutes, you calm down and wipe your tears away, grateful for the break in the tension between you and Sunghoon.

“Anyway, yeah, I guess I don’t have that much experience. Which is why I brought it up in the first place.” And just as quickly as it’d left, the tension is back again.

You look around the room because the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze on your face is unbearable. You release a shaky breath when you feel his gentle hand on your knee, and your eyes drift to it, but you can’t get yourself to look him straight in the eyes. 

“Don’t you think it’d be good to get experience before leaving for college, Y/N?” he asks, and you can tell he’s trying to sound confident, but his voice comes out breathier and shakier than he must intend it to.

“I don’t know… I don’t think it’s necessary,” you say, eyes still trained on his hand resting on your knee. He squeezes it a bit, making you finally look up at him. Is it just you, or did the room get hotter all of a sudden?

“Not everything you do has to be out of necessity, you know.”

The both of you stare at each other for a few moments. This shift in your relationship was bound to happen; you’d been feeling it more and more recently. You didn’t use to think twice about Sunghoon taking your hand in his, nor did you feel those stupid butterflies eating away at your stomach every time his gaze lingered for a second too long. You’d tried to reason with yourself that it was just teenage hormones doing their stupid job, and that you were doomed to feel some kind of attraction for your extremely handsome best friend at some point in your life, but that if you ignored it hard and long enough it would go away.

Well, now that Sunghoon’s lips are barely inches away from yours and your skin is on fire under his hand, it definitely isn’t going away.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Sunghoon asks, eyes fluttering down to your lips. You think he’s looked at your lips more than the rest of your face in the past hour.

“I’d slap you,” you lie, gaze mirroring his.

“Would you really?” he says, and your hesitation makes him smirk slightly.

“No,” you breathe out, and it’s the answer he’s been waiting for, the answer he needs to finally press his soft lips against yours. 

You don’t even have the time to savor the moment, though, because the warmth of his lips is gone as quickly as it came. He pulls back, a surprised look in his eyes, as if he can’t believe what he just did. The tension above you breaks and rains down on you like small pieces of confetti that settle comfortably on your head and shoulders. There’s a knot in your stomach but instead of twisting your insides in nervousness, it feels warm and makes you giddy for what’s to come next. Sunghoon’s surprised expression transforms into a grin at the sound of your laughter, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you.

You scooch closer to him, and his other hand comes to rest on your second knee. You can tell he’s not going to do much more, so you lean in bit by bit, and peck him softly on the lips. You both giggle again and you blame the fact that you want to feel his lips on yours again on the late hour of the night. You peck his lips once, twice more, giggling inbetween, but when you peck them a third time, he doesn’t let you pull away and keeps his lips on yours. The sudden added strength takes you aback, but it doesn’t take you long to yield to his touch and kiss him back. 

Sunghoon moves his lips slowly against yours and it’s surprisingly easy to fall into his rhythm. You don’t have the most experience with kissing, but something about doing it with your best friend reassures you and your whole body relaxes as you focus on the feeling of his lips moving in cadence with yours. The knot in your stomach stays there and tightens when his hands ride up your thighs and settle on your hips, holding you snugly there. You’re only wearing shorts and his palms against your bare skin make you release a shaky breath in Sunghoon’s mouth. You pull back for a bit, surprised at your own reaction, but nothing has prepared you for the way your best friend looks at you.

His pupils are dilated, dark; his glossed-over eyes bore right into yours. Your breath was already shallow from the kiss, but it’s his gaze that renders you completely breathless. Sunghoon tightens his grip on your hips and leans in for more, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him, making his eyes snap back into focus.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what took over me. Are you okay?” he asks, as short of breath as you are, but worry laced in his voice.

“No- Yes- I mean, yes, I’m fine, everything’s fine, I just-” you shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m just…”

“Tell me. You can tell me,” he says, rubbing gentle circles into your hips with his thumb, and the unfamiliar yet intimate gesture makes it even harder to concentrate. 

“We- we’re best friends, right?” you ask, voice trembling, You ask, even though you know the answer, just because you’re afraid the line the two of you have just crossed is already miles behind you, and you won’t be able to retrace your steps.

“Yeah, of course we are,” Sunghoon reassures, head tilting to the side in confusion. 

“And best friends… Do they… Well, it’s normal for best friends to kiss, right?” you say, trying to calm the overpowering urge to kiss him again.

Sunghoon chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t know about that, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you breathe.

Sunghoon quickly catches on to your hesitation. “But who cares about what best friends usually do and don’t do?” he says, holding your face between his hands to make you look up at him. “I liked kissing you, just now. I really, really liked it,” he admits, red dusting his cheeks. “Did you?”

You nod, too shy to put just how much you enjoyed kissing Sunghoon into words. “Do you want to do it again?” he asks and chuckles when you nod again, eyes already on his lips. This time, you don’t stop him when he leans in and let him press his lips to yours again. His words have reassured you and you sigh into his mouth, making him smile into the kiss. 

His hands ride up a bit and settle on your waist, bringing you a bit closer to him, and you circle your arms around his neck. The shyness of the first kiss is completely gone, and you’re both gaining more and more confidence, letting everything go and focusing solely on where your bodies meet. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and you push your body onto his, a sudden need to feel him against you, to feel his strong arms encaging you. 

You pull away at the same time to catch your breaths, smiling at each other when you see how lustful the other’s expression is. Sunghoon’s eyes have glossed over once more, and you’re sure yours have too. “C’mere,” he whispers, beckoning you to him. You climb onto his lap, one knee on each side of his hips. “Is this okay?” he asks, but you don’t answer, you just lean in and kiss him again, holding his face in your hand as his hands roam your back over the thin fabric of your t-shirt. Your kisses are curious, the both of you trying to figure out what feels best as you tilt your heads from one side to the other and let your inquisitive hands travel each other’s bodies. Yours find purchase in his hair, and you revel in the sighs that escape his lips whenever you pull and tug at the strands. 

As the kiss gets hungrier and needier, his hands fall down to your lower back, and then to your ass. He just cups it for a while, but after a few moments, grabs it harder and brings you close to him, making your core rub against  the hardness that had been building in his sweatpants for a while now. The friction is unexpected and you can’t help the loud moan leaving your lips at the feeling. It’s a feeling you know from your own hand in the privacy of your dark room, but Sunghoon making you feel that way is so foreign that it snaps you out of the daze you’re in. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, was that too much?” Sunghoon scrambles for words, but you’re already pulling away, and he doesn’t know what to do to keep you close.

You sit back on the bed, holding your knees close to your chest. You look at your best friend in front of you who’s looking at you with a worried expression. Something in you craves to reach a hand out to him, to feel his cheeks and jawline under your palms again, to find out if he’d shiver at your touch and if goosebumps would form on his skin. He’s been your best friend for eight years, and you’ve always thought you knew everything about him, the same way he’s supposed to know everything about you. But you realize in this moment that there are things you don’t yet know, melodies to be discovered, treasures to be unearthed. Your fingertips are burning to find them all. 

The sound of your name resonates inside your mind and it takes you everything not to fall back on him again. You furrow your eyebrows, confused by all those things you’re feeling. What was it that just took over you, that lit your insides up so?

You straighten your back suddenly and take in your surroundings. Sunghoon’s room is still the same old room you’ve always known, the same blue walls, the same posters he only ever changes when he finds a new interest and lets go of an old one. The same pictures from when you were 10, 12, 15, recent ones now that you’re 18; the same figure skating trophies and medals on his shelves. You turn to look at your best friend. The same soft, round cheeks contrasted by a sharp jaw; the same almond eyes, round with worry at your sudden movement away from him; the same two moles you’ve always found so comforting, for some reason. You almost reach out to touch them, to give you some sense of balance, to reassure you that things aren’t changing as much as it feels like they are. But you’re scared electricity might fry your fingers if you touch him right now. You’re scared you won’t be able to take your fingers off of him, no matter how much it stings. His face is the same as always before, but there’s something else to it, something you could probably figure out if you spent more than three seconds thinking about it, but you’re not sure you want to figure it out.

“Is everything okay? Did- Did I do something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern. 

Before he can put a reassuring hand on your knee, you get off of the bed, and hurriedly say, “No. I just- I think I should go home.” You look everywhere but at him.

He sits up at your words, concern turned into confusion. “It’s 3 a.m., Y/N, why do you want to go home all of a sudden? You’ve stayed over plenty of times before.”

“I know, I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’ve got cramps. I think my period’s coming,” you lie. It’s better than whatever truth is threatening to bubble up.

“Oh. Right.” He scooches a bit, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Is there anything- like- can I do anything?” He sighs, steadies himself. “You don’t have to go, is what I’m trying to say.”

A few months ago, when you had finally wrapped your head around the fact that your best friend was an attractive man and that he made you feel things friends weren’t supposed to make you feel, you’d told yourself it was all just a phase that would pass soon. But feelings this strong surely cannot go away that easily.

You take a deep breath in and tear your eyes away from him. “I think I should go home,” you repeat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hoon.”

You turn around and start walking away, but Sunghoon is quick on his feet and stops you from going out the door. “Do you actually have cramps? Or are you just scared that our friendship might change?” He sounds out of breath, like asking this question is taking him all of his energy.

You avert his gaze and try to push past him, but he’s much stronger than you. Puberty sure played its trick on him. You sigh and look down at your feet. “I’m tired, Hoon, let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

But if there is one thing your best friend is, it’s stubborn. “I don’t wanna talk about it tomorrow. I wanna talk about it now. Did it feel nice?” he asks, and his resolute tone of voice makes you look up at him.

“I- I mean-”

“Y/N,” he starts, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in a bit, his familiar scent filling your nostrils. You have to close your eyes. “Answer me. Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you answer without thinking. 

“Is that why you’re scared?”

“Yes.” Your eyes flutter open when you feel his fingers graze your cheek. He leans in again and traps your kiss in a much softer and intimate kiss that makes your head spin and your thoughts cloud. Before you can get carried away, you pull away again, and ignore how beautiful he looks when his eyes stay closed for a couple of seconds longer. He only opens them once you tell him once again you should go home, that you need some time to think.

“Let me at least walk you there. It’s dark,” he pleads, his grip on your waist still tight.

“Hoon, I live right next door, I’ll be fine.” You let him kiss you once more and he makes you promise to call or text him tomorrow.

When you leave, Sunghoon plops back down on his bed, arm resting on his forehead as he plays back the events of the night. Had he done something wrong? Something that made you want to get as far away from him as quickly as possible? He’d tried to be gentle and to make sure you were okay with everything, but he couldn’t help but get carried away when he heard those sweet sighs of yours. He thought he was going to combust when he heard you moan, and he wanted to hear it over and over again, but you’d jumped from him like he’d told you he had killed someone.

He hopes you were telling the truth when you said you were just scared about your friendship changing. He hadn’t wanted to push and get you to stay; he knew it was weird, seeing each other in a different light all at once. He wasn’t completely oblivious; he’d felt that same shift in your relationship those past few months, just like you had, although you’d never spoken about it to each other. He knew he could never go back to seeing you as just a friend when he’d jerked off one day and you were all he could think of. He kept imagining the sounds you’d make and the way your hands would feel on him, and he’d gotten so close to getting that today, but he must’ve fucked something up and now his chances were ruined. He curses himself for letting you slip through his fingers just when he thought he finally had you.

You don’t get a wink of sleep that night. Your mind is reeling with everything that happened in Sunghoon’s room. Your fingers unconsciously keep coming up to touch your lips and feel the ghost of his touch there. Your skin turns hot at the simple thought of how perfect his lips had felt against yours, and you toss and turn in your bed as you consider what might’ve been, had you stayed with Sunghoon. 

But it’s all happening too quickly, and even though you’ve been curious in more ways than one about your best friend for the past few months, you hadn’t expected to kiss him and to enjoy it so much on a random summer night. Your thoughts only seem to calm down and your eyes finally close just as the sun starts to rise.

--

The next day, Sunghoon wakes up in the early hours of the afternoon and checks his phone right away. A couple of notifications, but nothing from you. A text from Jake in their group chat with Jay asking to hang out at Sunghoon’s pool, to which he replies that they can come whenever. He taps a quick one out in the shower, memories of your scent and your lips on his getting him to finish quicker than he’d like to admit. He’s in the middle of a late breakfast when Jake and Jay spawn at his door, swimming trunks already on. Still nothing from you.

It doesn’t take Jay and Jake long to figure out that something is up with their best friend. It’s not like he does much usually, but today especially, he makes no effort to entertain them. He laughs at their jokes, but it feels like he laughs because he hears other people laughing rather than because he genuinely finds them funny. He barely even reacts when the inflatable pool ball hits him right in the face.

His friends don’t say anything until they’re all seated at a table by the pool, sipping on some ice-cold Coke. The air is still warm but the sun is low in the sky, hidden behind the house. Sunghoon is still lost in his thoughts, unblinking eyes fixed on a random point in the distance. Jay and Jake exchange a look before the former breaks the silence.

“Is everything alright, Hoon? You look out of it today.”

Jay’s voice brings him back to the here and now, and his eyes jump back and forth between his two friends who are looking at him expectantly. “Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he says, leaving some of the truth out, but his friends know him better than he gives them credit for.

“Are you sure? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling us. You usually act like a little bitch when you’re tired, you don’t get all…,” Jake shakes his hand in front of his face, “distant like that.”

Sunghoon bites his lip, debating whether he should tell his friends about you or not. No matter how stupid they may be, they also know both of you quite well, so they might prove not completely useless, he thinks.

“Y/N and I kissed last night.”

It’s almost comical, how Jay and Jake bring their head forward in astonishment, how wide their mouth gets, how their eyes look like they might pop out of their sockets, and how they say “You what?!” at the same time. On a normal day, Sunghoon would've laughed.

“We kissed,” Sunghoon repeats, eyes drifting down to the ground in front of him as he rubs his neck in embarrassment.

“Fucking finally!” Jay exclaims.

“Told you it was gonna happen. No way you two were going to stay just besties forever,” Jake teases, punching Sunghoon in the arm. “How was it?”

Sunghoon sighs and leans back in his chair, letting his head hang back. “Really fucking amazing,” he chuckles. His friends holler for him, snickering like 12-year old boys who just saw a hot girl walk past. 

“God, I saw this coming from miles away. I don’t know why you kept on insisting nothing was gonna happen between you two,” Jake says, beaming.

“I really didn’t think anything would… I just… Started seeing her differently recently, I guess.” Sunghoon shrugs, sheepishly smiling to himself.

“So, what happened? Did you guys just kiss or…?” Jay asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Jake giggles at the insinuation of sex but has a curious glint in his eyes when he waits for Sunghoon’s answer.

“Yeah, um, we just kissed cause she- she sort of ran away?” Sunghoon admits, wincing at the recollection.

“You what?!” Chaeyong’s voice rings out in the food court of the mall where you’re currently sitting, halfway through your strawberry milkshake.

“Keep it down, would you?!” you scold her, smiling apologetically to the people staring at you and your friend.

“If it was so good, why the hell did you run away, Y/N?”

“I just- I don’t know… Freaked out, I guess…” you mumble, cowering under the harsh look she gives you.

“Well, have you talked since?” You don’t reply, just guiltily avoid her gaze. “Y/N!”

“I know, I know! I just… don’t know what to do. ‘Hey, nice making out with you last night, bit weird since we’ve been best friends since we were 11, but that’s fine, right?’ Ugh! That’s so stupid,” you complain, flopping back in your chair.

“That’s exactly what you should say. Going MIA on him will just make things weirder. Plus you’ve never gone more than 24 hours without speaking so one of you will eventually cave in. It should be you,” she says, looking at you with a raised eyebrow as she takes a sip from her milkshake. 

You scoff when she gives you a ‘you know I’m right’ look. “I’ll think about it on the way home and text him. There.”

And you do think about it on the way home; but you don’t get the opportunity to send the text, because as soon as you get off the bus at the stop right across from your house, you see Sunghoon sitting on the bench of your porch, looking around nervously and rubbing his hands on his denim shorts. You chuckle to yourself; who knew he got so distressed from not speaking to you for a day?

He stands up when he sees you approaching and raises his hand in a quick wave. “Hi, Hoon,” you greet, and you can feel his whole body relax when you hug him. So, you don’t hate him, he thinks. You sit down on the bench together. “Sorry I didn’t text you. I didn’t know what to say after… last night,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit facing him.

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckles, smiling shyly at you. “I was scared you’d never want to see me again.”

You look at him with wide eyes, mildly offended, and punch his arm. “How could you think that?!”

“Well, you did sort of run away from me last night,” he says, lightly punching your arm in return.

You tut in defeat. “I did, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah. I’m just glad you didn’t walk past me straight into your house just now.”

You chuckle and rest your head on top of your knees. “That would’ve been a bit much, even for me.”

Sunghoon lets out a puff of air through his nose in response, and then the two of you sit in silence. You’re contemplating what to do next when your friend pulls you from your thoughts. “Should we, um…” He shuts his eyes tightly in reflection for a second before opening them again and looking straight at you. “Should we just pretend like last night didn’t happen? Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

His words take you aback and your eyes widen a bit; you hadn’t even thought pretending nothing happened last night was an option, because you didn’t think you’d ever be able to actually get it out of your head. Even now, if you stare at Sunghoon for too long, your gaze will naturally drift downwards or you’ll get a flashback of his large hands around your waist. But apparently, if he can offer to pretend like the previous night wasn’t a thing, then it must not have been such a huge deal to him. You quickly try to hide your disappointment and nod at your friend. “Right. Yeah. Sure.”

Silence makes its way between you two again. It makes the late afternoon breeze a bit chillier and the physical distance between you and Sunghoon feel much bigger than it actually is. Wanting it to go away quickly, you ask, “Do you wanna watch a movie, then?”

Sunghoon’s never looked so relieved about watching a movie, and he immediately accepts your offer. You get some popcorn ready while he searches for a movie to watch. He clicks on a horror movie that looks like it’s got a cliché storyline and awful acting, but you’re happy for any sort of distraction when Sunghoon is sitting so close to you.

You and Sunghoon always sit close-by when you watch something together, knees and shoulders brushing against each other. Tonight isn’t any different, except that your skin burns everywhere it touches his. You can smell the faint scent of chlorine in his hair, and it’s so intoxicating you want to bury your face there and breathe it in.

You’re thirty minutes into the movie and still nothing’s happened when Sunghoon puts his arm around you, letting his hand hang over your shoulder. The sudden warm contact makes you take a sharp intake of breath as memories of the previous night come flooding once again. You don’t know what you were expecting, but Sunghoon simply rests his hand there and doesn’t do anything more for another thirty minutes, except for squeezing your shoulder when there’s a small jumpscare, making you chuckle at him. This isn’t much more than what you’re used to with him, but knowing your friend, he must be thinking the ball is in your court. So you scooch a bit closer into his side and rest your head on his shoulder, the scent of his skin even stronger now that your nose is so close to his neck. You feel his chest raise and relax as he sighs deeply and tightens his hold around your shoulders. His small reactions to you spur you on and you decide to wrap an arm around his waist and you feel him flinch oh-so-slightly at your touch in such a sensitive spot. He starts to rub circles into your shoulder and rests his head on top of yours, and your whole body relaxes into his. This is so much more than what you’re used to with him; and yet, you so readily melt under his touch.

You can barely focus on the movie because of how close Sunghoon is. When a particularly scary ghost jumps on the screen, you flinch and hide your face in his neck, and he giggles at your reaction, hand coming up to stroke your hair comfortingly. It only takes you a few seconds to realize what position you’re in, and you release a shaky breath as you slowly lift your head towards Sunghoon, only to find him already looking at you, seemingly having had that same realization. When his eyes drift down to your lips, you know you’re done for.

You call out his name, and he’s already answered ‘Yes?’ before you’ve had time to finish uttering the second syllable. “I don’t think I want to pretend last night never happened,” you admit, holding his waist a bit tighter.

“Good. Me neither,” he breathes out before leaning down and trapping your lips in his, the kiss releasing all your pent-up frustration of the day. The world seems to melt away with his lips on yours, the movie already long forgotten. Sunghoon pulls you into his lap and you slide your palms up from his waist, against his chest and to his shoulders before wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your body closer to his. His hands are sitting on your hips, fingers lightly pressing into them and your lower back. Now that you both seem to know what you want, it’s so easy, just falling into this kiss.

His tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip and you gladly open your mouth for him, letting his tongue explore it. You haven’t kissed someone like this in ages, maybe ever, but Sunghoon takes the lead and effortlessly gets you to follow his rhythm. When a flick of his tongue against yours feels particularly nice, you arch your back and press your chest into his, making him smirk into the kiss. This time, when he brings your hips down onto his, letting you feel his erection against your clothed core, the feeling doesn’t make you want to run away; instead, you want to feel it again and again.

You fall into a nice pace of rubbing yourself against him, eliciting hushed moans and loud breaths from the both of you. You can’t concentrate on kissing him and grinding down on him at the same time, so you drop your head down to bury your face in his neck, leaving a few pecks there but mostly moaning against his skin, enjoying how your hot breaths make him shiver.

You can’t keep a whine from escaping your lips when he bucks his hip into yours and his tip brushes directly against your covered clit, instantly bringing a hand up to your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes. “I know we gotta keep quiet ‘cause of your parents but the sounds you’re making are so fucking pretty. I wanna hear them over and over again.” His words make you whimper against his neck and you feel your slick starting to pool in your panties.

“H-hoon. This feels so good,” you moan, breathing warmly against the shell of his ear.

“I know, right? Feels so good,” he chuckles, hands grabbing at your ass to bring you harder down onto him. His actions are about to elicit another moan from you when, all of a sudden, a loud jumpscare in the movie makes you jump away from the boy underneath you and yelp in fear, which in turn makes him scream in surprise. You look at each other, panting and eyes open wide, hands clutching at your hearts, until you burst into laughter. The fun moment is short-lived, however, as your mom rushes down the stairs not ten seconds later, frantically asking if everything is alright. 

You sit up straight at the sight of your mother and clear your throat. You’re thankful for the dark of the room which hides your and Sunghoon’s swollen lips and flushed faces from her view. “Sorry, mom, we were just watching a scary movie. We’re fine.” She sleepily nods and walks back up the stairs, and when she’s back in her room, Sunghoon and you exchange a look and erupt into another fit of smaller, quieter giggles. 

That night, after Sunghoon’s gone home, the both of you get yourselves off in your own beds, the strong memory of each other’s lips and hands bringing you both to your releases. Without even realizing it, you moan out Sunghoon’s name as your orgasm hits. The window from your room doesn’t face his; but still, your heart is beating so loudly that you’re afraid the sound might carry from your open window to his. You get up and close it.

--

Now that you and Sunghoon both know you want to kiss each other, you do it everywhere: in his pool, his back pressed against the wall; on the sunchairs when you were supposed to be drying off; on your beds in the middle of the night, none of your parents or siblings suspicious of anything; in front of your house, because even though he was supposed to just walk you home, he couldn’t keep himself from tasting you one last time; in the backseat of his car after an evening with your friends and he drove you two home.

You spend a good two weeks of just kissing before your body starts to crave something more. At some point, Sunghoon’s hands resting nicely on your waist or sometimes, if he’s feeling bold, grabbing at your ass, start to not be enough anymore. You knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with just kisses and sweet touches when one day, his hands slowly but surely slid up your naked belly before grabbing onto your bikini-clad breast, lighting your whole body up on fire. He’d slipped his hand underneath your swimming top and rolled your nipple between two fingers and you had felt his dick twitch under your core when you let out a loud moan at the new yet so pleasurable feeling.

You know what it is that you want, but it makes you feel dirty. Your fingers have made you finish a hundred times before, but wanting Sunghoon to make you feel that way is a whole other story. Is that even what he wants? Would he be weirded out if you asked him about it? Is there even the sliver of a chance that maybe, just maybe, he has those same thoughts about you, and wants you to make him feel good as much as he wants to make you feel good?

If his grunts and the way he ruts into you when your make-out sessions get particularly steamy are any indication, then the answer to those questions would respectively be yes, no, and yes. 

You’re lying on a sunbed one afternoon, letting the sun dry off your wet skin from the pool, when you finally muster the courage to tell Sunghoon about your wishes. After all, he is your best friend, and you know you can talk to him about anything. Even when that ‘anything’ involves his fingers inside of you and his dick in your mouth.

“Sunghoon?” you call out, turning your head to look at your best friend. He’s bathing in the sunlight without a care in the world. His skin has tanned a bit since summer started three weeks ago and his muscles are even more defined after all that swimming and working out he’s been doing. You want to reach out a hand, to feel the taut skin of his abs and chest under your palms, and to maybe then slide your hand down until you feel his hard-on underneath his swimming trunks. Your chairs aren’t far apart and you could do it from where you are, but you’d rather ask him first.

“Yeah?” he answers without turning towards you.

You take a deep breath in before you start talking again. “You know how you said it could be good for us to get… experience before going to college… And how we’ve been kissing these past couple weeks…”

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckles.

“Well… people do more than just kissing, right?” you ask, voice slightly shaky. This seems to pique his interest as he turns to look at you.

“Yeah?” 

You hope you’re not just imagining the enthusiastic tone in his voice. “I think… I think we should try that too, don’t you think?” you ask, eyes not leaving his as he sits up on his chair and turns his knees towards you, fully facing you now.

“Yeah, I agree. I completely agree.” He stares at you for a few moments as if in disbelief. “Do you want to- Should we- Let’s go up to my room, yeah?” he offers, standing up and reaching his hand out to you. You gladly take it.

You and Sunghoon are a giggling mess as you practically run up the stairs, unable to get to his room quick enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, you wrap your arms around each other, your lips finding his immediately as he walks you back to his bed. When you feel the back of your knees hit it, you detach yourself from him and lay on it, elbows holding you up as you look up at him expectantly.

“Fuck,” he whispers, leaning in to hover over you. He traps your lips in a short but sweet kiss before pulling back and murmuring against your lips, “Have I ever told you how pretty you are, Y/N?”

You beam at his words but decide to tease anyway. “You always go on and on about how pretty you are, but never about me.”

He giggles and pecks your lips again. “Well, I’m telling you now. You’re gorgeous.” You kiss him to hide your flustered face, pulling him so close to you he’s practically laying on top of you. Your hands are a bit more curious than usual, your kisses hungrier, the both of you anticipating what’s to come. 

You grind against each other, the feeling of his erection against your barely covered core enough to send your mind into a frenzy. You forget everything around you when you feel Sunghoon pull back in the slightest, far enough so that he can look at your face and gauge your reactions but not too much that you still feel his hot breath on your lips. One of his hands is holding the back of your head as the other travels downwards, stopping for a second on your breast to massage it lightly before continuing its journey. It ever-so-slightly brushes against your core, making you buck your hips up into his touch, but his hand is already gone leaving you whining and pouting and him chuckling at your cute reaction. “You want it that bad, huh?” he teases.

You scoff, not wanting to let your friend know the effect he has on you. You press your palm against his clothed erection and he hisses at the unexpected contact. “So do you, Hoon.”

When he presses his lips to yours again, you both smile into the kiss. You cup his jaw and tangle your fingers through his hair, and his hand slips from under your head and joins his other hand on your thigh, grabbing at both of them, fingers slightly digging in your skin. He’s so, so close to where you want him most, and he seems to have noticed your growing impatience by the way you squirm underneath him. Seeing you so needy for him only makes him needier for you; he has more experience than you, so you probably expect him to take the lead, but the truth is, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, face buried in your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses there.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want me to do?”

The question takes you a bit by surprise. You pull away to look at your friend. His eyes are completely glossed-over, and yours are probably the same. “Oh. I don’t know. I just… want you to touch me, I guess,” you say, voice a bit quiet.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admits sheepishly. He kisses your neck and cheeks before pecking your lips. “Could you- could you show me? How you do it? And I can show you how I do it?”

You take a second to take his words in. Was he suggesting that you touch yourself in front of him, and that he do the same?

This was like a dream come true.

“Yeah, sure.”

Sunghoon giggles in response, and you can’t help but crack a smile too, even though the idea of getting yourself off in front of your friend, no matter how appealing, is still a bit nerve-wracking. “You first,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll your eyes at him.

You sit back against the headboard of the bed and slip a hand underneath your swim bottom, the other hand coming up to cover your eyes in an attempt to escape Sunghoon’s heavy, lustful gaze. “None of that. I wanna see you,” he says, pulling your hand away from your eyes and resting it on a pillow next to you. “And if you keep these on, I won’t be able to see anything,” he says, looking down at your bikini top.

Before you can protest, he comes to sit on his knees in front of you, kissing your neck and letting his hands roam your back. “I wanna see all of you.” It’s so easy, untying your string bikini, he almost thinks you wore it on purpose for him to take it off. You avoid his gaze as he takes your top off of you, leaving you half-naked in front of him. “So pretty,” he whispers, and you can’t help but look at him, slick pooling between your legs from the fascination he’s looking at your breasts with. He trails kisses down your neck until he reaches them, taking a nipple in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, then looks up to see your reaction. You never knew your nipples were this sensitive, and you can’t help but arch your back at his touch and moan loudly, hand flying up to tug at his soft hair. He releases your nipple with a pop and moves sideways to pay the same attention to the other one, but Sunghoon is impatient and doesn’t waste too much time on it; he knows he can come back to your boobs later anyway. Right now, you’ve got a hand between your legs, and that’s what he’s dying to see.

“Can I take this off, too?” he asks, looking up at you as his fingers hook on the sides of your swimming bottoms, waiting for you to nod. His eyes don’t leave your glistening core as he pulls the thin fabric down your legs, discarding it somewhere on the floor of his room. He lays on his belly and kisses the inside of your knee as he holds your thighs in his large hands, still transfixed by your pussy when he says, “Show me how you do it, please.”

You both take a sharp breath in when you start moving two fingers in gentle circles over your clit, already wet from making out with Sunghoon. Your fingers are nimble and know exactly what to do after years of doing this, but the pulse in your core is even stronger now that your best friend is watching your movements this intently. He looks like he’s scared to blink in case he might miss something. You can’t take your eyes off of his face; you’ve never seen him so fascinated by something, so eager to learn. It makes you want to put on a show for him.

A surge of confidence hits you out of nowhere as you slide your digits down your folds, gathering some slick before sliding them back up to your clit and rubbing it a bit faster, a bit harder, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch. With your free hand, you tug at the base of Sunghoon’s hair and make him look up at you. You release his hair and bring your pointer finger up to your mouth, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it, and Sunghoon’s mind is taken back to that day a couple weeks ago when you had sucked on those lollipops. Oh, how things have changed since then. Not that he’s complaining. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he breathes out, eyes zeroed in on your lips and mouth slightly agape.

You smirk at his reaction, stomach on fire with the feeling of having this kind of power on him. When you’ve wet your finger enough, you bring it down to your slit, circling around your hole before entering it, releasing a loud moan for good measure. Sunghoon is mesmerized by the quickening with which your finger slips in and out of you, the fingers on your clit never relenting. He doesn’t even realize he’s released one of your thighs to palm himself over his shorts until you notice it yourself and tut in disapproval.

“Come and help me, Hoon,” you say, and the boy snaps out of his daze at the sound of his nickname. He nods slowly, changing his position so that he’s laying between your legs, head dangerously close to your core. You slip your other finger out of your hole and he takes that as a sign to replace it with his own. One hand still gripping your thigh, he imitates your previous actions as he gets his pointer finger wet with his saliva before pressing it between your folds, right underneath your clit where your fingers are still rubbing circles, sliding it down towards your slit, and finally pushing it in. 

“So warm… So wet, too,” he whispers in wonder, making you cover your eyes with your forearm out of shyness.

“Oh my God,” you moan, arching your back and letting your head drop to the side on the pillow. Sunghoon’s finger is much thicker and longer than your own, and it stretches you out and hits a deep spot inside you you never could, no matter how much you tried.

“Like this?” he asks, eyes curious as they bounce back and forth between your face and your entrance sucking his finger in.

“Yes, yes, just like that, you can also- oh- you can also curve it upwards a bit- fuck, yeah, just like that, Hoon, you’re doing so well,” you say, the praises just flying out of your mouth. 

This seems to instill some confidence in him, as he cocks an eyebrow at you and speeds up his actions. “Yeah? My finger making you feel good, Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bite back, but immediately let out a long whine when he easily inserts a second finger in your soaking pussy. He curves them inside you just like you told him to, and the feeling of his fingers filling you up and your own quick ones on your clit are creating a familiar knot in your stomach that is so close to breaking. That is, until Sunghoon pulls your wrist away from your clit.

“Y/N… Can I?” he asks, and you’re not sure what he’s planning, but nod anyway. He wastes no time before pressing his tongue flat down on the sensitive bud, and you actually feel like your soul might leave your body. Fingers knuckle-deep inside you, he licks and sucks at your clit, and the warmth of his tongue against your folds is what makes you tumble over the edge, tightly gripping his hair and bucking your hips into his mouth.

“Oh my God… Oh my God, Hoon, please, don’t stop, please,” you beg, voice getting higher and whinier as you cum all over his tongue. He continues eating you out until it gets too much and you have to tell him to stop. He hikes his body up yours, pecking you sweetly on the lips when he reaches them.

“Your turn,” you announce and hook your legs over his hips to straddle him. You’re about to lean in for a kiss when you notice how lovingly he’s looking at you: his eyes are soft and a small smile is playing on his lips. It takes you aback, but you’d be lying if you said butterflies didn’t spread in your stomach. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

His grin gets a bit wider. “Did I make you feel good?”

“Y-yeah…,” you admit, averting your gaze from him.

“I’m glad. You taste good, by the way. Sweet.” You want to kiss the devilish smirk off of his face.

You scoff at your friend, glaring a bit. “Whatever. Sit up,” you order, but it just makes him smirk more.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You look up at him to check for confirmation, and when he nods, you hook your fingers under his swimming trunks, taking them off of him along with his boxers underneath. His already fully-hard cock springs free and slaps against his stomach, and you curse yourself for your reaction that will surely just inflate his ego, as if it wasn’t already massive. Your mouth hangs open, eyes zeroing in on his length, flushed red from lack of attention and what you can only guess is precum leaking at the tip. It's straight from a porno.

“Like what you see?” Sunghoon teases, making you look up at him, and you can only stupidly nod. You take the position he was in earlier, laying your head on his thigh and caressing the other, letting it ride up to rub his inner thigh and the tiniest bit over his cock, making his smirk vanish as he takes a shaky breath in.

“Show me how you do it,” you say, echoing his words from earlier. He gulps, finally realizing that he was going to have to masturbate in front of your curious eyes just as you had. He spits on his open palm and spreads the precum over his length with his thumb, lubing himself up before gripping the base and starting to move his hand up and down. You watch as his head falls back against the pillow when his palm grazes over his tip and his movements pick up some speed.

You rub his palms over his thighs, itching to get closer to his cock and make him feel as good as he had done to you earlier. Tentatively, you reach out to grab his balls in your hands, massaging them softly, feeling satisfied when a loud moan leaves his throat. “Oh, f-fuck, that feels good, Y/N,” he breathes out, voice much higher than you’re used to. If he thought that felt good, then nothing could’ve prepared him for the feeling of your soft and warm tongue kitty-licking his balls, then taking turns sucking each one into your mouth and releasing them with a pop. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” he asks, involuntarily bucking his hips into your face.

You can’t help but giggle, and Sunghoon thinks he might come from the sweet sound contrasted with your lewd actions alone. “I read a lot of fanfiction,” you explain, and he doesn’t question it. If Wattpad taught you how to suck dick, then so be it.

You wrap your hand around his and tell him to keep going so you can get an idea of what pace and movements he likes, and you graze your fingernails over his abs and chest with your other hand, chuckling at how sensitive he is when you lightly pinch his nipples. Sunghoon takes his hand off of himself, laying both of his hands palms up next to him on the bed, so you decide to literally take things into your own hands. Trying to recreate what he did before, you spit into your palm and wrap your fingers around his tip, bringing your hand down in a swirly motion to the base of his shaft. You do that a few times, asking, “Like that?” to get confirmation from Sunghoon.

“Just like that, baby,” he says, not even taking notice of the pet name; but you do, and your face immediately flushes, surprised at how much you like it.

“Baby?” you repeat, but he’s too lost in his pleasure and just hums in response. His reaction eggs you on, and you lick a long stripe from his base to his tip, swirling your tongue around it and humming at the bitter but not unpleasant taste of precum there. When another moan escapes his throat, you take his tip in your mouth, at first just shallowly thrusting your head, but then trying to take more and more of him. 

You’re so focused on what you’re doing that you don’t even realize how quickly he’s panting and how his grunts start to get whinier until he’s moaning out your name. “A-ah, Y/N, feels so good, ‘m gonna cum, fuck-”

He goes silent as he shoots his release down your throat, eyebrows deeply furrowed and mouth open wide in pleasure. There’s so much of it and you can’t swallow it all, so you pull your head back, catching your breath, and a hot string of cum hits your chin and your throat. Sunghoon takes a look at you and the sight of you with some of his cum makes his dick twitch before he plops back down on the bed. You giggle as you take tissues from the bedside table (cause of course he’s got tissues next to his bed) and wipe away his seed, then lie down next to him, brushing away the hair that’s sticking to his forehead with sweat and peppering his face with soft kisses.

He opens his eyes and smiles, turning his head to look at you before engulfing you in a bear hug, sweaty bodies sticking together but neither of you minding it. “That was so good, Y/N. What the fuck,” he sighs, pecking your forehead.

You hum, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “I know, right? Who knew you could use your mouth for other things than saying stupid shit,” you tease.

He pulls back and gives you a look that tries to be stern, but you know he’s joking. “Do I need to remind you again, young lady?”

You giggle and peck his lips, forcing him out of character as his dimples appear on his cheeks. “Later, definitely.”

And after that day, he makes sure to remind you time and time again of how good his mouth feels on you. You should’ve seen it coming with how amazing of a kisser he was; but truly, there was nothing like cumming on your friend’s tongue.

--

You’re relieved to find that not much has changed, after all; you and Sunghoon still play around in the pool, watch stupid movies and hang out with your friends like always. Sure, there are stray hands here and there, or looks that last a little too long and mean a little too much, but if anything, it just makes your friendship more playful and exciting. 

You’re both open with what you like and don’t like, so it doesn’t take either of you to figure out exactly how to make the other come undone embarrassingly quickly. (The shortest amount of time it took him was 2:38 seconds - yes, he timed it - and he hasn’t let you live it down since.) You like it when he presses his large hand down onto your lower tummy while he eats you out, or when he sits you between his legs and whispers all sorts of things as his fingers work their magic inside you and on your clit. He likes it when you get down on your knees in front of him and look up at him as you suck him dry, or when you sit in his lap and kiss his neck and play with his hair while he plays video games. And don’t even get him started on when you palmed him over his sweatpants while you watched a movie with Chaeyong, Jay and Jake, making sure that the movements under the blanket went unnoticed by them. He wanted to punish you after they left, he really did, but you took him in your mouth right there in the living room and gave him an orgasm that had his thighs shaking for five minutes afterwards. You were pretty proud of yourself for that one. 

You also find out that he hates it when you tease and edge him, which only makes you do it more; the only problem is that, if you do that, he’ll make you ride his thigh and won’t help you at all. His proud smirk and snide praises combined with the feeling of his thick thigh underneath your core were more than enough to get you to your end, though.

And truly, nothing has changed, especially not Sunghoon’s special talent in pushing boys away from you.

“What do you mean, Lee Heeseung is coming back?” he heatedly asks, slamming his glass of lemonade down on the outdoor table so hard you’re scared it might break.

“It’s the summer, of course he’s coming back. He just stayed behind for a bit to enjoy a few weeks of the city without college, and now he’s coming back here,” Jake explains, shrugging.

“Do you know when he’ll be here?” you ask, far too much excitement in your voice to Sunghoon’s taste.

“Just in a couple days.”

Sunghoon has smoke coming out of his ears when he sees how much you perk up at the news of your old crush being back in town for summer. He likes the boy, but he hates that you like him. And since Heeseung is friends with Jay, Jake, and by association Sunghoon, begrudgingly so, he’ll definitely see lots of him in the upcoming months. And if Sunghoon sees Heeseung, then you’ll see Heeseung, too. And that, Sunghoon doesn’t like.

You notice something is off with him that afternoon because of how uncharacteristically quiet he is. Sunghoon, ever the loud introvert, is always arguing for no reason and laughing louder than everybody around him. So when he merely chuckles at his friends’ numerous displays of stupidity in the pool and doesn’t even say anything in protest to you getting on Jake’s shoulders to play against Chaeyoung and Jay, you know something is definitely up. You also have a good idea of what that something might be, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it endearing.

You stay behind when your friends leave in the early evening. Without a word, you and Sunghoon pack away the inflatable toys in the pool cabin and clean up the table, putting the dirty glasses in the sink. You do the dishes while he prepares sandwiches for the two of you, which he insisted on doing after he heard your stomach grumbling. You watch the latest Kurtis Conner video as you eat and can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even chuckle at any of the jokes or skits when he’d usually be clutching his stomach in laughter. 

When you’re done eating, you take a resolute breath and pause the video, but Sunghoon doesn’t even notice, only snapping out of his daze when you call out his name.

“Huh?” When his eyes find you, he almost looks surprised to see you, as if he’d forgotten you were there.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, slightly frowning. “You look so out of it today.”

“Huh? I’m fine, nothing’s wrong,” he says dismissively and presses play, but you quickly pause the video again.

“I’m your best friend, Sunghoon, I know when something’s the matter and I know when you’re lying. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but don’t pretend everything’s fine when we both know that’s not true.”

He peers at you for a moment, cursing you for knowing him so well. He crosses his arm and averts his gaze, pouting like an angry child. “I hate it when you’re right.”

You giggle and make your way around the counter to him, standing inbetween his legs and wrapping your arms around his neck to make him look up at you. His hands come naturally up to your waist. “I just…” he starts, then immediately stops himself with a sigh., “You’ve always had a crush on Heeseung. But these are our last couple months together, and I don’t want somebody else taking up your attention…”

He buries his face between your breasts to hide his blush, and you can’t help but giggle again. “Stop laughing at me!” he protests, but the muffled sound of his voice just makes you laugh more. You stroke his hair and press a gentle kiss at the top of his head.

“Sure, I’m happy Heeseung’s coming back. But there’s no one I’d rather spend my summer with than you, Sunghoon, you should know that.” He leans back to look up at you with puppy eyes and a small pout. You cup his face, admiring how cute he looks like this, and smile softly down at him.

“Really?”

“Really,” you answer, and he leans in for a kiss.

It’s a soft one. It’s a patient kiss, neither of you urging to get somewhere else, to do something more. It reminds you of that kiss in his room a few weeks ago, when you were still curious and discovering each other. From then on, your kisses had become more feverish, more eager, more playful. But now, you’re taking your time. For now at least, neither of you is going anywhere. So your lips melt together slowly, and when you take breaks to breathe, you look each other in the eyes and smile before leaning back in.

It’s when you sigh against his lips, eyes still closed as you pull away, that it hits him. I could do this forever, he thinks.

I could sit here with my arms around her waist and her lips against mine and the smell of chlorine and the sound of her laugh forever and I’d never get tired of it, he thinks, but immediately afterwards, he realizes he won’t get to do this forever. Summer will end, you’ll both head off to college, and you’ll only get to see each other every few months until another summer comes. And who knows what might happen until then?

You might meet someone and realize Sunghoon isn’t all that; hell, he might meet someone, but he highly doubts anyone could even come close to the way you make him feel.

“Hello? Earth to Sunghoon?” you quietly joke, looking down at him with an affectionate look in your eyes. You press the pads of your fingers to his two moles before replacing your fingers with your lips, giving each one a quick peck. “You were up on the moon for a minute there.”

Sunghoon hums softly, smiling as he lets himself melt under your touch. “Sorry. It’s just really hot, isn’t it?” he says, a stupid excuse he uses as a blanket to cover his feelings. There is some sweat beading at his hairline, which helps make his lie more believable, but you don’t need to know it’s not just because of the summer heat.

Slowly, your smile turns mischievous, and Sunghoon can tell you have an idea in mind. “It is pretty hot… Wait here.”

He watches as you fill a tall glass with ice from the dispenser in the fridge and pop an ice cube in your mouth, a devilish smile on your face, and laughs when that smile is replaced with a frown as the coldness hits you and you spit it back into the glass, laughing along with him. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks between giggles.

“I got the idea a few days ago when we were having popsicles…,” you say looking down at the glass between your hands, slightly embarrassed. “You kissed me and your mouth was really cold but it felt nice.” Sunghoon hums, egging you to go on. You lift the glass up to his cheeks, applying just a bit of pressure to the soft skin. “I thought this could be refreshing.” 

You take the ice cube back in your mouth, sucking on it but not letting it melt completely before pressing your lips against Sunghoon’s and opening your mouth just a bit so he could feel the cold of the ice cube. You feel his smile into the kiss as the ice cube swirls between your tongues, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Very refreshing indeed,” he murmurs when the ice has completely melted. He gets up and takes the glass in one of his hands, leaning down to your level and says “C’mon” with the same mischievous smile as you on his face.

You two hurry up the stairs, and when you get to his room, he hands you the glass before throwing himself on his back, laying on his back with his hands behind his head. “Show me what you had in mind.”

You straddle his hips and take an ice cube from the glass, rubbing it over his lips before pushing it inside his mouth, the cold making him hiss. You quickly counteract that by pressing your lips to his, the contrast of your warm tongue and the freezing ice turning him on more than he would’ve thought.

When the ice has melted, you take another piece and brush it along his jaw, down his Adam’s apple and around his nipples. The cold temperature makes him squirm but he doesn’t shy away from it, even closing his eyes to focus solely on the feeling. While you play with the ice cube, you also leave warm kisses all over his skin, reveling in its slightly salty taste from the thin layer of sweat. You let the ice cube melt between his abs and watch him wriggle as he sucks in a sharp breath, then grab another one, starting off where the previous one stopped. You circle his navel while your fingers play with the hem of his swimming trunks. He pulls them down himself and you chuckle at his eagerness. “I should’ve known you liked the cold, with all those years of ice skating you did,” you tease.  

He’s almost fully hard, and it only takes a few kisses and trailing the ice cube down his inner thighs to have his dick fully erect. He’d only been letting out small sighs and hisses until now, but when you grab another ice cube and circle it around his sensitive tip, he throws his head back into the pillows and moans loudly. You push your luck and drag the ice cube down his shaft, his thighs snapping together when it reaches his balls. You put it in your mouth and let it melt so that your tongue is still cold when you swirl it around his tip, already tasting precum there. But before you can take him further in your mouth, he calls out your name.

“Wait. I don’t wanna cum just yet. My turn.”

He shakes his shoulders in excitement as you switch positions, you taking your t-shirt and bikini top off and laying on your back and him sitting down with one knee on each side of your thighs, an ice cube in his hand and a giddy smile on his face.

He brushes it over your lips before pushing it just a bit into your mouth, holding onto it with two fingers while you suck on it, gazes locked in each other. Just as you did earlier, he trails it down your throat and your chest until they reach your nipples, marveling at the thin wet trail it leaves in its wake. He licks this trail as he circles one of your nipples with the ice cube, and you don’t know if you should focus on his warm tongue or on the cold ice cube. Once it’s melted, he takes another one and circles your other nipple with it, his mouth coming to wrap around the now cold one. Your hands fly up to grab at his hair, your back arching into his touch as you moan and pant loudly.

He sucks and licks at your nipples until you’re calling out his name, begging for more. As nice as his mouth or an ice cube around your nipples feel, your pussy is throbbing and desperate for attention. “Sunghoon… Please,” you whine.

“Please what?” he teases, looking up from your breasts with a smirk.

You whine again, knowing he knows full well what you want. “Please…”

He trails the ice cube down your stomach, circling your navel a few times where it melts before slipping two cold fingers underneath your bikini bottoms. “Is this what you want, baby?,” he asks as he rubs his fingers between his folds, and you whine at the feeling of having him so close to your hole and to your clit but not quite there either. He smirks when you nod frantically but whine at the loss of his fingers against you as he takes your bottoms off and reaches for another ice cube.

You release a loud moan and arch your back off the bed when the ice cube touches your clit. “Fuck, Hoon!”

He rubs the ice cube up and down your folds, your heat melting it much faster than your skin. He takes another one and brings it to your entrance this time, circling around it before pushing the ice cube in and staring with wonder as it melts quickly. He holds your hips down so you stop bucking them up, whimpering at the amazing feeling of the ice against you. He replaces the ice cube with his fingers inside of you and his tongue on your clit, sucking expertly at the sensitive bud and lapping at your juices. And while it feels good - God, does it feel good - and you let Sunghoon know just how nice it feels with your moans, whispers of his names and the way you hold onto his hair, you’re craving something more.

It’s something you’ve been wanting for the past few days, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. No matter how nice Sunghoon’s fingers and mouth felt, they didn’t make you feel close to him enough. You wanted to be so close to him you didn’t know where you ended and where he started; you wanted to feel him. 

You pull him up by the face, asking him to come here and getting lost in his lips as soon as they reach your level. God, Sunghoon’s kisses. You could drown in them. But still, that craving, that need for more. And now that his body is pressed up against yours and you can feel his erection against your thigh, so close to your core, you think you know what it is that you want. “Hmm, please…”

“You keep asking me for something, but you don’t tell me what it is.”

“You. I want you, Hoon, please,” you beg, murmuring against his lips as you wrap your legs around his hips and bring him even closer, his cock now pressing against your cunt.

“M-me?,” he asks, leaning back just a bit, but you pull him back in right away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Yes, please. I need to feel you inside me.”

Your words are enough to get a moan out of Sunghoon. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he pants, planting kisses all over your face and neck. Usually, you’d giggle at the ticklish sensation, but right now, you’re so drunk on pleasure, it just makes your breath even shallower and your core wetter.

“How long?”

“God. Since the second time we kissed probably,” he replies, reaching for a condom in the drawer of his bedside table. You think back to that moment six weeks ago (how has it been six weeks already?, you think), after you and Sunghoon had made up and made out on his couch in front of a horror movie. He’d wanted you for that long? And he’d waited for you to say something since then?

“Today’s your lucky day, then,” you tease in an attempt to alleviate the need for him that takes over your bones, but his gaze when he looks back at you ruins any effort. If anything, it just makes you need him even more. You feel like you might explode if you don’t have him right now.

You watch as he clumsily wraps the condom around his member, clearly never having done this before, but you wouldn’t be of any help, so you let him figure it out on his own. You let your head fall back as he rubs his tip up and down your folds, gathering your slick on his dick before aligning himself at your entrance and giving you a long, deep kiss.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, forehead on yours.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, I am. But I’m also scared.”

“Scared of what, Hoon?” you ask, opening your eyes to look at him. You caress his cheek and cup his face in your hands, watching softly as he lets his head rest on your palm.

“I’m scared of hurting you. I heard it hurts the first time. And I’m scared…” he closes his eyes and frowns a bit. “I’m scared it’ll feel too good. That I’ll always want it. You.”

You take a small moment to think, your thumb brushing over his cheek in what you hope is a comforting manner. “You won’t hurt me, Hoon. It only hurts if you’re not ready… And I’m plenty ready. I know you’ll take it slow.” You smile softly when he nods, turning his head to kiss your palm. But if sex is as good as you’ve heard it is, you’re also scared that it might be the best thing you’ve ever experienced and that you’ll never get enough. You and Sunghoon have been meeting up almost everyday this summer and it has more often than not ended up with one of you between the other’s legs; you could never get bored of the things he made you feel or of knowing you were making him feel those exact same things. If you couldn’t live without his fingers, how could you live without his dick?

How could you live without him?

You tried to snap out of those thoughts, reassuring yourself that even before all of this you couldn’t imagine yourself living without Sunghoon, and that there was no reason this should change anything. “And don’t be scared of that, silly,” you say, making him smile. “I’ll always be here, Sunghoon. I’ll always want you, too.” 

“Fuck, okay,” he whispers, kissing your lips once before pulling himself up on his palms, hovering over you. “Tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” he asks and waits for you to nod before finally pushing in.

You instantly moan when you feel his tip inside you, and Sunghoon stops, frantically asking if you’re okay. It takes some convincing to get him to push himself further in. “It feels so good, Hoon. Please keep going.”

You tell him to not stop until he’s fully inside you, and he obeys, even though he wants to stop when he sees your frown and your sharp intakes of breath. When he’s buried to a hilt, he can’t help but collapse on top of you, burying his face in your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “Y/N,” he drawls out. “Feels so fucking good. So tight,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Mmh. Give me a minute, baby.” Your hands caress up and down the expanse of his back and you feel him relax on top of you. As you adjust around his length, the stretch starts to feel more and more pleasurable, until pleasure is the only thing you feel. “Hoon?”

“Yeah?” he says, kissing and nibbling softly at your neck and earlobe.

“You can move, now.”

Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice and ever-so-slowly slides out of you, leaving only the tip in before he slides back in. His thrusts are slow but deep, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s barely started but you’re both already whimpering messes, holding onto each other tightly as pleasure like neither of you has felt before takes over your entire bodies.

As you both get more comfortable, his pace picks up just a tiny bit and you tentatively raise your legs higher so that they’re hooked around the back of his knees instead of laying on the bed. The new angle only adds to the intense pleasure, but you don’t even realize you’re crying until Sunghoon stops mid-thrust, wiping your tears with his thumb and worryingly asking if you’re okay and if it hurts and if he should stop. You open your eyes and smile, instantly calming his nerves. You bring his head closer to yours and kiss him like you’d stop breathing if you didn’t. “It feels so fucking good, Hoon. So, so good.”

He sighs out of relief and resumes his actions, heart swelling with pride that he’s making you feel so good, you’re crying. He’s always hated seeing you cry or hurt in general; but knowing what kind of tears these are, he thinks you look so pretty with tears streaming down your face. His hands grip your thighs a bit tighter as he quickens his pace, already addicted to the feeling of your warm walls taking him in so well.

He slips out a few times but you’re always quick to guide him back inside you. He lifts his body up a bit to get a deeper angle, hoping it’ll get him to stop slipping out, and he’s blown away by the sight underneath him. He thinks you’ve never looked so gorgeous as you do now, legs spread wide for him, cheeks flushed, brows furrowed and mouth agape for him. He kisses your tears, the salty taste bringing a smile to his lips. “So perfect,” he whispers against your mouth. “You look so beautiful.”

Sunghoon takes your legs and wraps them higher around his hips, the new angle hitting a spot inside you that’s making you see stars and has you moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know how to say. You feel that familiar tension build up inside your stomach much faster and much stronger than it usually does.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you warn, and a harsher thrust inside you is what pushes you over the edge, the sensation crashing into you and making your thighs shake. An orgasm has never hit you this hard before.

You’re clenching around him like crazy and Sunghoon gasps as you milk him dry, his own orgasm hitting him all at once. He shoots his release inside the condom and stills inside you, breath completely taken away by the sudden, overwhelming sensation.

He lays on top of you for a moment as you both catch your breaths, trying to make sense of how something can feel this good without killing you instantly. He apologizes when his pulling out makes you wince and kisses the top of your head. He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so that you’re now almost lying on top of him, head against his chest as his arms wrap themselves around you. You leave kisses all over his chest and neck and his hands caress your back.

“That was amazing.”

“I know, right?” he responds immediately, his enthusiasm making you laugh.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say timidly, voice muffled against his skin.

“For what?”

“For making me feel this good.”

He chuckles. “No need to thank me, pretty. If anything, I should thank you for letting me make you feel good, and on top of that making me feel good.”

You hum at his words and you both stay there for a bit longer, enjoying each other’s warmth. Something blooms inside your chest, and you don’t know whether to let it grow or to squash it down. It feels nice, almost too nice, and you’re scared it might get ripped away from you and it won’t feel so nice then.

Friendship, sex, love. In those weeks spent with Sunghoon, those previously clear lines have blurred to a point they were all one big messy ball of feelings and not three distinct things you could tell apart. Has sex turned your friendship with Sunghoon into something romantic? Or is that just an illusion, and being so intimate with your best friend has messed up your once platonic vision of him? But was your vision of him ever platonic?

Haven't the two of you always been teased about liking each other for a reason? After all, you and Sunghoon didn't grow up together, and he’s never felt like a brother to you. He has always been your male friend; you’ve always been aware that he was your friend who was also a boy. When you'd moved in the house next to his, you hadn’t instantly clicked; it took a while for the ice skating prodigy to warm up to you, but his parents had warmly welcomed yours into the neighborhood and quickly became friends, so it was only a matter of time before he’d open up to the idea of you being around. Constantly.

You’d walk to and from school together, do homework together, go on family trips together, cheer each other on at your respective competitions. After his ice skating lessons, when his coach let him have the whole place to himself for a bit more practice, he’d tie your ice skates for you and drag you onto the ice rink, holding you by the waist or shoulders as he skated backwards in front of you, but also laughing at you when you inevitably fell. He’d tease you for getting second place at the science fair or for getting your arguments torn apart during Model United Nations, but the way he’d be a little nicer to you or share his food more often that week wouldn’t escape you.

Being a handsome young ice skater, Sunghoon had developed quite the loyal following of boys and girls alike who would come to see him at his competitions. He thrived off of the attention, but no matter how much he enjoyed his fans’ admiration, you were always the one he’d skate to after having won first place, hugging you tightly over the barrier separating the ice from the bleachers. Especially during your younger teen years, Sunghoon wasn’t one for skinship or PDA, so it always meant that much more to you that even after his most important wins, you were the first thing on his mind. It never failed to make your stomach flip, and all the death stares from his fans in the world couldn’t have changed a thing.

You were already close, but you became practically inseparable after Sunghoon’s injury. During the competition that would have gotten him a place at the Youth Winter Olympics had he won, his nerves got the best of him and he didn’t land his triple axel, hurting his ankle in the process. Ten years of dedication and hard work, ruined in mere seconds. To say that it destroyed him would be an understatement.

You were the one to bring him back up. You listened to him when he needed to vent, held him when he needed a shoulder to cry on, cheered him up when he needed to smile. He didn’t even need to tell you what he needed, you seemed to just know. You reminded him that he had a lot more value than his medals and trophies and that he didn’t need them to be complete. His family and friends tried their best to make him feel better, but their words never reached him quite like yours did.

Slowly but surely, his confidence came back. He’d lost his fans, but he’d gained a friend he knew would always be there for him. His dimples would appear more often, his laugh would resonate louder. His injury had made the two of you grow closer, creating a bond that would only strengthen over time.

And yet there were moments when being friends wasn’t enough. When calling him your best friend didn’t feel right. You had other friends, friends you were close to; sure, maybe not as close as to Sunghoon, but close nonetheless. And you didn’t feel that way around them.

Their laugh didn’t make your heart skip a beat. You didn’t want to bury your face in their necks and breathe in their scent when they hugged you. You didn’t want to know every single detail of their day. And you surely didn’t feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when they danced with another girl at your school ball.

You also didn’t crave their lips on yours every single day since it had happened for the first time and didn’t want to see what they sounded or looked like while getting the life sucked out of them through their dick.

Everybody told you it was obvious you were ‘more than friends.’ Why did romantic love have to be ‘more’ than platonic love? Why were there levels to it? You didn’t like the idea of taking your relationship with Sunghoon ‘one step further’; that wasn’t the way it felt to you. Rather, it felt like having to change everything you knew and create something new. Something where you could see him laugh and tell him about your day, but where you could also kiss him and graze his skin with your fingertips. Something that only you could share with him and only he could share with you. But you were afraid the friendship would fall apart if things didn't work out. So, instead of taking the risk of changing everything, you made sure things would stay the same. You’d tell the butterflies raging in your stomach to settle down and you wouldn’t let yourself fall into his touch in case it’d be like falling from the highest mountain.

That is, until he kissed you. Until this moment, right now, lying in his arms, ear right over his heart so you can hear it beat for you. You look up at him. His eyes are closed and a soft smile rests on his lips. He looks so peaceful. He always looks pleased when you’ve just been together, but right now, he seems to be in such a serene state, it almost makes you laugh.

Now that you’ve given in to your feelings, you’ve realized just how strong they were this whole time. Nothing has ever felt better than being in Sunghoon’s arms, than being able to see him at his most vulnerable state and to give all of you to him. All those things you didn’t know about him just six weeks ago, you know them by heart now. You’re sure there’s other things to find out, and you’ll make sure you will.

But summer won’t last forever.

A wave of sadness slaps you right in the face, bringing you back to reality. There’ll come a time where you and Sunghoon won’t be able to lounge around all day or lazily make-out at your will. You’ll go your own ways and not see each other for months at a time. The thought of that is unbearable, and you feel like looking at Sunghoon for a second longer might rip your heart into a million pieces.

When you sit up, tearing yourself away from his grip, he immediately opens his eyes, asking what’s wrong.

“Just need to go to the bathroom. I heard you can get STIs from not peeing after sex,” you half-lie. He nods and falls back into the bed. 

You rush to the toilet, needing to get far away from Sunghoon as quickly as possible. Even your pee smells different - guess that’s what having a dick inside you will do to you. You wash your hands and look in the mirror: your skin is darker in some spots, surely Sunghoon’s work. So not only did he mess with your thoughts, he also had to make your body all weird, too?

You splash your face with cold water, hoping it will bring you back to your senses. You and Sunghoon have been best friends for years. There’s no point in changing all of that now, is there? You’ll be leaving soon enough, anyway. Why ruin a perfectly fine friendship for a summer fling?

Those are your thoughts as you head back to Sunghoon’s bedroom, ready to tell him that this whole thing was a mistake and you should just pretend it never happened. But your resolve crumbles at your feet as soon as you step inside the room.

Sunghoon’s got a couple of snacks ready as he browses through Netflix in search of an appropriate movie. “How about Twilight?” he says when he feels the bed dip under your weight next to him. He kisses your forehead and pulls you down on the bed with him so that you’re lying back against his chest.

Screw it, you think. Whatever this is, it’s much more than a summer fling.

--

The rest of the summer goes by in a flash. No, you don’t try to make Sunghoon jealous by flirting with Heeseung; if the mention of the latter’s name was enough to get your friend mad, then purposefully twirling your hair or batting your eyelashes at the older boy just might make Sunghoon white-boy-punch a hole into a wall. And it’s not like Heeseung would try coming onto you, either, with how clingy Sunghoon gets when he’s around, always an arm around your waist and a glare that could kill Heeseung.

Sunghoon gradually opens up to Heeseung being around, even though it takes you reminding him almost daily that he’s the one whose arms you wanna end up in over anybody’s. After a couple weeks, Sunghoon stops looking like he's on the brink of starting a fight every time Heeseung so much as talks to you or hands you a glass of lemonade, and finally relaxes around him.

You spend countless sleepless nights with Sunghoon. You’ve probably memorized every single one of his moles by now, and you’ve made sure to kiss all of them. He holds you against him like he might lose you at any given moment. The only nights you don’t fall asleep in each other’s embrace are when either one of you is sleeping over at your friend’s house. On those nights, sleep always takes hours before washing over you, the lack of warmth keeping you awake.

Your friends and you spend entire days at the lake or by Sunghoon’s pool, not a care in the world. You rest your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder as you watch the fireworks Jake and Jay bought go off. Sunghoon grills your marshmallows for you, blowing on them so they cool down before handing you the stick. You try to ignore how the night air gets slightly chillier and how the sun sets slightly earlier, but by the last days of August, it becomes too noticeable. When September rolls around, you’re sure there’s a small crack in your heart.

You know Sunghoon feels the end of summer too. His kisses are deeper and his lips linger over yours a second longer. He frowns when he kisses you and hugs you, like he’s trying to remember what it feels like. His usual playful demeanor when you’re in bed together is gone, instead seemingly hellbent on making you feel good and almost begging you to say his name. As if you could say any other name. As if you could say anything else.

Neither of you mention your departure until the night before you leave. After spending the evening with your friends, you lie together in bed, the side of your face resting against his chest so you can feel his heart against your ear. He’s tracing patterns with his fingertips on your back, and it takes you a while to figure out he’s spelling his name over and over again, as if to etch it in your skin. When, once in a while, he takes his hand off of you to reach for his phone, you can still feel his fingers caressing you, ghostlike against your skin.

The air around you feels heavy, pressing the both of you down into the mattress. You wish the bed would eat you alive so you could stay there, warm against each other, as long as you like. You know you can’t leave without talking first, but the words won’t come to you. Instead, they float around the bed, weighing your heart down into your stomach.

“So,” you start. You're unsure what to say, but you know this conversation has to happen, one way or another. In the end, you settle on, “Excited to leave?”

Sunghoon scoffs lightly, his motions on your back coming to a stop. “Not really, no. It’s not like I’m leaving that far, and half of our school is going to our uni.”

“Maybe, but there’ll be tons of other people. Tons of other girls, too,” you add after a short pause.

“Don’t do this, Y/N, please.”

You sit up at his words. He covers his eyes with his forearm and takes a deep breath in, sensing an incoming argument. “Do what?”

“This. Getting mad at me when I haven’t done anything.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you protest, frowning down at him.

“No? Then what’s this?” he says, smoothing down the lines between your eyebrows and on your forehead with the pad of a finger.

“Whatever.” You nudge your head away from his touch. It burns. “It’s not like I’m wrong, anyway. You’re gonna have a bunch of girls at your feet, and you’ll know what to do with them, right? Now that you’re not a virgin?” you question, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/N…” he sighs, shutting his eyes tighter as if in pain.

“What? This was the whole reason why, right? Get experience with me so you could fuck girls better, no?”

“Y/N!” he says, raising his voice enough to let you know he’s upset but not enough to scare you. He sits up, looking at you with hurt and disbelief in his eyes. “What’s this all of a sudden? It’s not like I forced you into this! We agreed on it together!”

“So you agree? That this summer was just about getting experience and now you’ll use it on other girls and pretend like we,” you gesture between the two of you, “never happened?”

“What do you mean ‘agree’? I never said any of this! Don’t put words into my mouth!”

He watches as you get up from the bed, arms crossed and pacing his room. He calls out to you a few times, but you don’t stop to look at him until he speaks your name with a sternness you’ve never heard before from him. “What?” you snap.

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this out of nowhere! We both knew summer was gonna end at some point, and why we were doing this! Why are you blaming me now?”

“Because… because…” you sigh, scrambling for an excuse. Why were you doing this? The thought of Sunghoon doing what he did to you to another girl, making her feel as good as he had made you feel, kissing her like he had kissed you, made you sick. It made you see red, it made you want to make him wear a shirt with your face on it so everybody knew he was yours.

Sunghoon gets up and stands close in front of you, too close. You close your eyes. If you see his moles, you might reach out to touch them and let yourself fall even more. If you fall, you’ll need to get up, but his scent makes your knees weak.

His hands find your face, holding a little too gently, you think. Your small ones wrap around his wrists and grip them, a little too harshly, he thinks. 

You take a step back and finally look into his eyes. There’s hope in them; hope you’ll say what he wants, what he needs to hear. That you want him like he wants you. That you wish summer wasn’t over. That you’ll keep him in your heart until you can see him again. So, when what you say next is none of the above, he feels his heart sink down to his feet, leaving a murky puddle there.

“I can’t do this.”

You rush out of the room, practically running home. You fight your tears back until you slam your bedroom behind you, pathetically sinking to the ground as you let out a loud sob. You don't have the energy to get up, and cry into your hoodie's sleeve right there on the floor.

When you’ve calmed down a bit, you get up and lay in your bed, hiding your whole body underneath the covers. Maybe this is for the best, you think. If you end it like this, you won’t have the knowledge of whether he’ll wait to have you back or he’ll move on like nothing happened. That way, you can do whatever you want, not caring about what he’s up to. 

But even now, your hands subconsciously reach out towards a person that’s not there and your feet hang over the edge of your bed as though to get up and run to him anytime. You curl in on yourself to stop your body from aching for him. It doesn’t work very well.

Sunghoon stays where you left him for a few minutes, too stunned to move. Should he run after you? Should he let you cool off for a bit and talk to you in the morning? Would you be mad at him if he didn’t try to see you now or would the mere sight of him just make you angrier? He plops down on his bed as these questions run through his mind, butting into each other and making everything more confusing. 

He thinks back on everything that led to this, and his mind settles on that day a few days after graduation where his thoughts had dropped to the lowest pits of hell. If only you hadn’t brought those two damned lollipops.

--

The next morning, Sunghoon wakes up as if somebody had slapped him awake. He doesn’t bother to brush his teeth or eat anything before running over to your house, almost forgetting to put shoes on. He finds you in your room, packing the last of your things into an already full suitcase. He stands at your door, panting as his hands rest on his knees.

“You haven’t left yet. Thank God.”

“God, Hoon. It’s not that far between your house and mine. How are you so out of breath,” you say, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He walks to you and kneels in front of you, taking you in his arms before you can say anything. “Talk to me, please. Don’t leave like this. I’d never forgive myself if you left and you were mad at me, Y/N.”

You thought you’d cried so much last night that there was not a single drop of water left in your body, but you thought wrong. Your eyes immediately well up at his words, and he leans back when he hears a soft sniffle escaping you. Only then does he notice how puffy your eyes from all your crying.

“No, no… Have you been crying? I’m so sorry, pretty, please don’t cry,” he pouts, pulling you back into his embrace. It hasn’t even been half a day, but you missed his warmth so much, it only makes you cry harder.

After sobbing against his chest, possibly staining his shirt in the process, you pull away and in your light-headed, dehydrated state, spill your heart out. “It’s so stupid,” you sob. “We’re not gonna see each other for months and I’m gonna miss you so much and I don’t want you to be with other girls. I want you all to myself and I don’t want to be your friend that you fucked for a summer just so you could get experience, it was a stupid idea in the first place, if you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve just kissed me. But you didn’t just kiss me and now I’m scared that this all meant nothing to you but everything to me and that I don’t want to be friends anymore but you do and I’m mad that it took me all summer to say this even though I’ve known it for years but I didn’t want to admit it to myself but also you didn’t say anything and I’m mad about that too. Because there’s no way you don’t feel like I do but maybe you actually don’t and-”

Whatever you were about to say dies out against Sunghoon’s lips as he presses his lips to yours, interrupting your rambling. He pulls away, looking at you with a huge, stupid grin. He’s so stupid, you think. I love him so much.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for you to say this so bad, you have no idea.”

You punch his chest, frowning at him. Those stupid tears won’t stop. Everything is so stupid. “Then why didn’t you say it first?”

“Because I didn’t know how to. You know I’m bad with words. And I was scared it’d make things weird.”

“I don’t want things to be weird,” you pout.

“I don’t want things to be weird, either. I want things to be nice and happy.”

You giggle. “That’s so stupid.”

“Right? It’s so stupid,” he repeats, kissing you again.

“Your breath smells,” you complain when he pulls away.

“And you have tears on your lips. Tastes salty,” he teases.

“Yeah, thanks to who?”

“Sorry.” He smiles and kisses you again. He holds you against him for a while, enjoying this last moment together. As long as he can see a smile on your face before you leave, he’ll be fine.

“I’m gonna miss you so much too, Y/N. And forget about those non-existent girls. There��s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

“How do you know? You haven’t met any of them yet,” you say, voice muffled against his t-shirt.

“I’ve met other girls before. None of them compare to you,” he says, and you immediately gag at how cliché it sounds. “What?! It’s true,” he giggles.

“You’re not gonna go and date a random guy, are you?”

“Of course not. None of them compare to you,” you say, lowering your voice to imitate his.

He helps you finish packing, and when you’re done, you lay together on your bed, not saying much because not much needs to be said. Your parents struggle to tear you away from each other and from your bed when it’s time to leave. He helps your dad put your baggage in the trunk of his car, telling you to not lift a finger so you watch him go to and from the car, leaving a kiss on your forehead every time he walks past you. You notice with a smile that he doesn’t carry much at once, making him have to go back-and-forth quite often.

After saying goodbye to your family, your dad waits in the car as you and Sunghoon hang back awkwardly, kicking small pebbles on the pavement. He takes your hand in his, making you look up at him, then takes the other hand, then hugs you close to him.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you say, as if that wasn’t obvious. You’re trying hard to fight tears from falling again, but it’s like there’s an ocean behind your eyes, water somehow never running out. 

“I already miss you,” he says, and that’s enough to get you to sob again, which makes him start crying too. You’re crying, he’s crying, your mom is crying from the porch as she watches the two of you, it’s a mess.

You force yourself away from him, cupping his face in your hands. “We’ll see each other soon, okay? And college will be fun. You won’t even have time to miss me. But make time to think about me, yeah? And text me.”

“I will. I’ll think about you all the time, I already do,” he says.

“Okay,” you whisper and hug him one last time, very briefly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You’re about to walk away but he doesn’t let go of your hand and pulls on your arm to bring you back to him.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I love you,” and you sob.

“I love you, too.”

This time, when you walk away, he lets you go. He watches as you get into the passenger’s seat and as the car drives away, as it takes you away from him. You watch him stand there in the rearview mirror, until his silhouette becomes smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until you can’t see him at all anymore.

--

Summer went and fall came as they do every year. Dead leaves are falling but it’s a new start for you. It’s a new town and you don’t know anybody, but you click instantly with your roommate and make new friends throughout your first week there. You realize everybody’s in the same boat, and they’re all eager to meet people and are curious about college life. You love your classes but complain about them nonetheless. You eat more ramen than you’d like to admit and turn up hungover at a 9 am class on a Thursday. You pull all-nighters at the library and develop a caffeine dependency. You’re a college student.

You and Sunghoon were very dramatic when you left, you soon realize. You call almost everyday. He’s not there with you and you miss him but at least you don’t have to pretend you’re not stupidly in love with him anymore. Because it’s stupid, being in love, it really is. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Your first semester passes by almost too quickly, and before you know it, you’re on the drive home, already one eighth of the way through university. You’re excited to go home, but Sunghoon’s finals last a week longer so you wait around for him. When you complain about it, Chaeyoung tells you to get a grip. “You haven’t seen him in three months, I’m sure you can handle another week.”

And you can, but barely. You were about to explode but then he’s back and you’re in his arms and his hair is still so soft, his scent is still so comforting and his moles are still there. You kiss them both before you finally press your lips to his, and it makes you feel so alive, you could die right then and there.

You lie on his bed and talk for hours as if you didn’t keep in touch the whole time and it’s like you never left. It’s like summer never ended and you’ve just been lying in his bed the whole time, college just one big fever dream. 

But his skin doesn’t smell like chlorine anymore, and he’s not in his swimming trunks. It’s fall, almost winter, and you’re kissing Park Sunghoon. You realize you can kiss him whatever the season and you find comfort in that. It was a big day (you cried a lot when you saw him) and you’re tired so you think you’ll kiss for a bit and that’ll be all but then he whispers “I missed you so much” against your neck and a fire lights inside your stomach. Oh, how it burns. You think it might consume you whole, but you don’t dislike that idea.

In a flash, you’re on top of him, his shirt is off, your shirt is off, but it’s not enough so you take your pants off too and Sunghoon is confused as to why you’re going so fast, but follows you anyway. “What’s going on?” he asks when you’re done with the taking off of your clothes and have moved on to kissing and biting at his neck like it’s your first meal in ages, because it is.

“I missed you too,” you simply answer, and he smirks as he nods slowly, now understanding your eagerness.

“Missed me that much, huh?” he teases, letting his head fall back against the pillow so you have better access to his neck.

“Shut up. Kiss me,” you order, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Your kisses are ravenous and desperate, very fitting for two horny people in love who haven’t seen each other in months. But the pulse in your core makes you too impatient to stay anywhere for too long, and really, it’s not your fault if you’re grinding down onto Sunghoon’s clothed erection, it’s just that he smells too good and you missed him too much.

Sunghoon laughs at you for being so impatient to hide just how impatient he is. His giggles keep him from moaning loudly enough to wake the whole house, and you laugh as you tell him to stop laughing.

“I’m serious. I missed you so much. Need you so bad,” you say as you get rid of your underwear and quickly do the same for his. He gasps when he feels you take his dick in your hand and brush its tip between your folds, both out of pleasure and out of surprise.

“Shouldn’t I get you ready? Stretch you out a bit?” he asks, his hands roaming up and down your back as he sits up on the bed so that you’re straddling his lap, and you shake your head no. You’re probably already embarrassingly wet from your short makeout session, anyway.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” you say, lining his tip with your entrance. “Need to feel you.”

You sink down on his cock, the both of you releasing loud moans at the long-awaited feeling. He lets you adjust to his size for a minute, but as soon as you move your hips just a bit, signaling to him that you’re ready for more, it’s over for you. He wanted to be patient and take his time, he really did, but you feel so warm around him and your small whimpers are so pretty that his resolve of letting you take the lead is thrown out the window. He pounds into you at a rapid pace that has you biting his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming.

You had imagined your first time back with Sunghoon so many times before. It usually involved a nice playlist in the background, fairy lights and candles lighting the room, hours of foreplay and sensual lovemaking, with a nice bath afterwards. Sometimes, when you were particularly needy for him, you imagined something closer to what was actually happening, where you’d rip each other’s clothes as soon as you got to the bedroom and fucked like animals (a bit much, admittedly, but you really missed him).

What you definitely hadn’t expected, however, was that you’d both cum in less than five minutes. What could you do, though, when he was hitting your g-spot over and over again, his length stretching you perfectly as he whispered in your ear how much he’d missed you and how good you felt? And what could he do when you took him in so well, clinging onto him as you told him how much you’d missed him and how good he felt?

You finish at the same time, hole clenching around him and milking him dry. He doesn’t pull out for a while, letting you collapse onto him as you both catch your breaths, just like you had that first time. “That was a bit quick,” he pants, and you can’t help but laugh. 

You pull back to look at his face. It’s so pretty and stupid. What a stupid face that you love so much. Do you love it because it’s stupid or is it stupid because you love it? You think that that’s a stupid question, and you kiss the mole on his nose, then the mole on his cheek, right next to his nose.

“We have all night to go slower.”

“We have all Christmas break,” he corrects.

We have the rest of our lives, you think, and you think that might be a bit much, but you say it anyway. Sunghoon hums and says, “yes, we do,” and you think maybe it’s not all that stupid.

Maybe it’s the greatest thing that’s ever been.

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[madamechrissy]

𖢔 Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream 𖢔

𖢔The five times Satoru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked𖢔

𖢔Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖢔Summary: Satoru Gojo was your best friend in the world, you'd long since had it bad for him, over the many years, but of course he's so popular and handsome, star basketball player, you think you have no chance. Satoru however, has tried five different times over the many years to tell you he loves you, but the words just never came out right, and you would never believe it to be possible. So, you both grow distant, as life takes over, until in your last year of college you end up at a Christmas party with him, where both of you are dealing with fresh breakups, and Suguru Geto is hanging mistletoe over your heads. Drinks pour, and so do Satoru's feelings he's kept inside. Have you both been in love with each other this whole time!?

𖢔CW: MDNI- Will be showing elementary, middle, high school and college missed confessions with Satoru and you! Lots of fluff ! Smut in current time (hints of it in early college) Friends/idiots to lovers, Toru is an idiot as a teenager lol, and they're bad at feelings, Christmas themed, emotional- light angst to fluffy smut. Explicit sexual content, fingering, cunnilingus. blow jobs, sexual tension, rough sex etc. 𖢔 Word Count- 15k words (holy fk lol)

𖢔Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!!𖢔

Christmas Eve, Last year of College

There is Christmas music playing as you enter the party, thrumming softly as you smile at so many of your friends, many you have barely seen in months. With being in the last year of college, many of you all had separate classes in separate buildings, and getting together was rarer and rarer. They wave at you while you take off your heavy winter coat.

It was freezing outside, and there was a faint dusting of snow, perfect for a Christmas Eve you muse. Little droplets melt on your hair as you shake your head to get them off, the warmth of the party and the sea of bodies enwrapping you. You see him then, right next to all of your friends, the man that never seems to leave your mind, Satoru Gojo.

God you’ve been friends forever, literally since you were ten years old, and running around in a playground at elementary school during recess, about Christmas time you’d met him in school and you’ll never forget him throwing snowballs so damn mean at you. You’d cried that day and somehow that had been the catalyst for your friendship.

But also your feelings.

You feel his blue eyes on you, eyes that you never got used to even after knowing him like the back of your hand, bright and piercing across the room, framed by a fringe of snow white lashes. He’s got a soft smile playing on his lips, waving a long arm at you, shouting your name. You hate that after all these years he still has such a damn effect, butterflies that never really left.

You’ve always tried to keep them pushed down, not get your hopes up ever, the few times you thought maybe Satoru could be available, had ended with him getting some new girlfriend. You had jokingly called them his flavors of the month, this month’s you’d called her an advent calendar jokingly over text, texting is mostly how you all talk now.

Satoru’s a star college basketball player and you’ve chosen to start a writing major, he’d be practicing basketball and you’d watch him in between typing up stories. He’d wave and smile at you as you sat on the bleachers to support him, though of course that was some time ago, when you both got significant others the friendship had gotten more distant.

You’d gotten broken up with literally last night, you were sure that your friends wondered why you were alone, but when you walk up to them, they just greet you. Suguru Geto, Satoru’s best friend and one of your good friends, hugs you first, in a warm embrace with his strong arms. You hug him back and smile up at him.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Suguru!”

“Of course, love, we miss you. We all miss each other.”

“Me too! Hey Shoko!” Shoko hugs you now too, pulling back to look at your pretty dark red dress.

“You look so hot!”

“Aw, thank you, you do!” You now look at Nanami, who’s all decked out in a full three piece suit, you remember his emo days and it always surprises you how much he’s grown up. “Nanami!”

“Hello, darling.” He hugs you now as well, leaving you face to face with Satoru, who stands now, towering over damn near everyone, even taller than Nanami. Suguru is the only one in the room as tall as he is.

You crank your neck back to look up at him as he gently places his hands on your face, kissing your forehead sweetly. You grip his wrists gently and melt at the gesture, it’s a gesture of friendship deep and important. It’s one you haven’t felt in such a long time, you get so emotional from it you gulp, swallowing. You realize you’ll probably never really get over him.

But he’s just your friend.

A friend that looks sexy as fuck-

Stop that!

“I missed you, sweets. Mwah!” You giggle now as he smacks another kiss on your head and pulls you against his strong chest.

“Ugh, I miss you! But… maybe not so friendly, your-”

“I’m a free man so I can hug my friend again.” He teases, then pulls back and winks at the three of your other friends. “All my friends.”

“Don’t hug me, disgusting.” Nanami says with a shiver, earning Satoru’s huge, wolfy grin, big bright white teeth shining and reflecting the twinkling lights hanging on the ceiling above you.

“Well, that makes two of us.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes lock on you then, blue storms unreadable, a little lock of his soft white hair falling over a brow. Your eyes lower, taking in the white dress shirt and dress pants he’s wearing, worth more than you make in months easily. God he looks good.

Don’t think that way, it’ll always fuck you up.

“What happened?” Suguru asks softly, and you sigh, looking up at the dark haired man and smiling a bit.

“He wanted to go separate ways, I’m in college and he’s not anymore, I guess he felt we were too distant and separated because of it.”

“He didn’t wanna buy you a Christmas gift, cheap ass.” Satoru says with a huff, and you all laugh then.

“So we’re broken hearted for Christmas hmm?” You tease him now, taking his hand and squeezing gently, he pauses then, usually humorous face so serious, it makes you falter a bit, you ease your hand off, just when Suguru clears his throat.

“Ahem. Well then.” He holds up a thing of fake mistletoe now, right above Satoru’s white head and you, and you giggle a bit, but something in Satoru’s face shifts, his pretty pink lips part just a bit, eyes getting lidded.

“Well, there’s mistletoe, it’s a tradition.” He says, voice a little husky, you try to laugh it off, but quiet when he leans down a bit, hands in his pockets.

“Oh stop being silly you all.” You say, tempted by those glossy lips, but you don’t trust yourself not to lose it if you cross that line. Vivid images of straddling this man fill your mind just thinking of kissing him, you can’t go that far.

“It’s just a kiss, silly. C’mon, smooch me.” He puckers his lips all silly, Nanami and Suguru snort in laughter, and Shoko rolls her eyes. You sigh then, remembering, it’s just silly Satoru, your best friend. No big deal for him to have a kiss, especially as you both had shared a few kisses, one in middle, one in high school… and one drunken college encounter.

You may or may not have them written in a diary somewhere.

There may BE a Gojo diary.

“Okay, fine, tradition is tradition.” You say, he smirks now, hands out of his pockets to rest gently on your shoulders, so big he overtakes them. You exhale and your eyes flutter shut, as Satoru Gojo’s lips descend.

Fuck it feels so good to kiss him, it’s like you become boneless in his goddamn hold, it’s not just the pressure of some plush lips, it’s so much more, you are sure he probably doesn’t feel this, but you can’t help but lean up on your tip toes, even in your high heels, hands trailing up that stark shirt. He exhales and deepens the kiss, hands pulling you even closer.

You’ve never felt anything as sweet as his lips.

Satoru has never felt anything as sweet as your lips.

Fuck he knew it would feel this way, but it takes everything in him not to drag you upstairs and kiss every inch of your body. And fuck your body looks so good in that tiny little formfitting red dress, like a present just for him to unwrap. Satoru feels your skin heat up as he presses his lips on yours once more, in sweet little pecks, drinking in your breathless sounds.

He looks down at you, your eyes have dilated so much they’re almost black, just a ring of your pretty eye color left. Your lips are just slightly reddened from his kisses, parted just so, looking dazed. If you look like this from a kiss, he has to wonder how you look when he’d kiss you everywhere, every inch of your smooth skin, so bare in that dress he’s mad anyone even gets to see you.

You flush now, and he sees it, sees how flustered you get, biting your lower lip, lashes trembling just so over your eyes. Your hands are clutching his chest, his heart races under your palm, he wonders… Do you feel it? Do you feel even a bit of what he’s felt so long for you?

He longs to kiss you again, as his friends and yours all laugh softly, making little ‘ooooh’ noises, which you giggle at, but you don’t step back or step away, no you stay there, in front of him. He can feel your body heat, entrancing him, when you finally ease away you’re smiling so cute and shy at him, tearing his heart apart.

Satoru has to remember you’re just a friend, but it’s awfully difficult right now, especially since he knows you’re single. He knew the guy wasn’t good enough for you, but as your best friend he tried to be respectful, but he’d just tasted your sweet lips, like cherries, and now he’s imagining tasting your other lips. He’s a horrible friend, isn’t he, but…

Satoru’s been in love since he met you.

He knows you have no clue of it, the few times he’s tried he’s covered it up completely, much to your never ending confusion. Suguru, Nanami and Shoko all knew how bad he had it, even now, girls were placeholders, things to try to cope with the fact that he was too scared to share his feelings. He was nervous, Satoru Gojo, the man that could score under any pressure.

He scores in games, in life, with women. You were his weakness, breaking through this barrier he had, some invisible barrier that just a touch from you could destroy, a happy little smile on your perfect lips. Lips that are quirked up, you run your hand through your silky hair, hair he wonders what it would feel like in his fingers, pulling it as he…

Shit.

“Should we catch up a bit?” You ask softly.

“Miss me sweets?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“A bit.”

Fuck his heart stops. “Let me get you a drink?”

You nod and smile at his friends, who give him a sly little nod. They have made tonight their mission to try to get Satoru to express his feelings, finally and once and for all, before he went to play professionally, and before he maybe didn’t get a chance. He’d tried before, but something always holds him back, some fear of rejection, your rejection that sinks into him.

“I missed you, Toru.” You say softly, and the nickname hits him in the gut, the nickname you have called him for so long. He grabs a vodka bottle and smiles over at you, mixing you the drink he knows you love so much.

“Of course you missed me.” You laugh softly, Satoru always makes jokes, because he’s so scared to truly be vulnerable. You shove at him a little playfully, tiny little hand on one of his shoulders.

“You didn’t miss me, hotshot?” You tease.

“Miss you every day.” He says softly. You pause now, hands over his as he hands you the little cup, feeling yours get sweaty, as you tremble just a bit.

Are you as affected as him?

You can barely focus when Satoru’s long fingers brush against yours, you clear your throat and smile tremulously, taking the drink and sipping. “I wish we had more time to… hang out.” You say, cursing yourself internally.

“Hang out hmm?” He leans back on the counter, as the partygoers walk in and out of the kitchen.

“Yes, hang out. We used to all the time. I guess life happened?”

“Jealous boyfriend, jealous girlfriend happened.” He sips his drink, a little droplet falls, urging you to wipe it with your thumb, he catches your wrist in his big grip, tense, you both stare at each other quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He lets your hand down gently.

“Satoru I… do you think… you’d ever…”

“Ever what, sweets?”

“Ever…” You’re a blushing mess now, wondering at yourself, but it’s been forever, your boyfriend and you had not slept together, and before that it’s been almost a year since you last slept with someone. And fuck Satoru looks so good your mouth is just watering.

“You can ask me anything.” He says, so soft, and you take a breath.

“Have you ever thought of um… hooking up?” You whisper the words, earning his huge eyes getting even bigger, mouth wide with shock. “Oh god of course you haven’t! I just thought since we… almost back in the day? Also, it’s been a while and I trust you, and… oh god forget it so embarrassing!” You slam your hands on your face now, feeling your ears even overheating.

“Wh-what!?” He demands, leaning down and taking your hands off, you can’t even meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry that was so off base. You’re probably hurt! I’m a little hurt too. I just… fuck I need to go.”

“What!? No no no.” Satoru stops you now, exhaling as he studies you carefully. “Like just a hookup? You don’t think it’ll ruin…”

“It wouldn’t ruin anything for me. I’ve always… I’ve always wanted to.” You admit, earning more of a blatant look of shock. “I know I was a little too… I don’t know, romantic back when we were younger? But I thought of it.”

“Yeah? Shit… Yeah?” You giggle now, nervously.

“Yeah I’ve always thought about it. I know… but do you think of me that way? If not it’s fine, no pressure really.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head. “Never thought of you that way?”

“Well you’ve been picking on me since you were ten, throwing snowballs at me, little shit.” You poke his chest, ignoring the hammering of your heart, and Satoru takes you by your arm, long fingers wrapping it entirely.

“Christmas Story time young lady.” You giggle and let him lead you out of the lively party, out to some of the quieter rooms, and he snatches you in one quickly, locking the door behind you both. He sits down in a huge leather seat in the quiet room, tapping one of his long thighs.

You suddenly get even more shy, and he notices, leaning forward. “I am not very experienced at being casual, Toru, give me a minute.”

“We’re not doing anything yet anyway, sit on Santa’s lap.” You snort, shaking your head, and he narrows those blue eyes, before leaning over and snatching up a santa hat and grinning. “Now, come here, be a good girl.”

“Good girl!?” You’re wet, great. You nervously shuffle to his thigh now, sitting and hoping he can’t feel your heat.

“You’re all talk hmm?” You sigh.

“I can’t believe I said all of that, I’m so sorry. I’ve always… Well, I’ve always had a crush on you. It sounds silly.” You look away, only for Satoru to cup your face, turning you to him carefully, your breath catches when you see how serious his pretty face is under that silly hat.

“Are you ready for story time?” He asks softly. You nod then, leaning closer in his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand resting on his hard chest.

“I’m ready, Santa Toru.” He smiles just a bit, then he remembers.

*****

The First time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Fifth Grade- Age 10

“Oh my gosh! Ugh!” You’re shivering now, Satoru has thrown two giant snowballs at the prettiest girl he’d seen, wearing a wicked grin as they both hit your sweater, soaking wet with them now.

You turn and glare at him, and gosh, Satoru really thinks you’re cute, your face is all scrunched up in a glare, a face he frequently stared at in class. You were so, so pretty, and you always had your head in a book, where most classmates fawned over Satoru, laughed at his jokes, you just…

Were you.

Satoru wanted some attention, so this seemed like a great way to try, until he walks over and sees your face, tears in your eyes, your lips trembling. He pauses then, blinking his snowy lashes, worrying now, as he’s not ever seen you upset, and now he feels it like a hit on his chest.

“You’re crying?” He asks, and then remembers people around you are watching, and he doesn’t want to seem too soft. “Why are you crying? Just snowballs.”

“I’m soaking wet and cold now, Gojo!” You stomp a foot, shivering, Satoru suddenly feels awful.

“I… oh… um…” He takes off his jacket then, shivering just a bit in the chilled air, so cold he could see puffs of your breath as you sigh.

“No, no you’ll be cold. I’ll be fine. I’ve just had… um a bad day.” You whisper, looking down and hugging yourself.

It’s then, Satoru realizes…

He thinks he likes you…

A lot.

He eases off your soppy sweater, throwing his jacket over your shoulders, and you look up at him and keep crying. “I’m sorry, okay!?”

“N-no. You’re just sweet, Gojo. Thank you.” You swipe at your eyes with your gloved hands as he clutches your sweater, he brings it to his nose for a moment, inhaling you. “Are you… smelling it? Do I smell bad!?”

“No, no! You smell sweet.” You raise your brows, color on your cheeks, on your cold little nose. “I mean… you… I…”

“Thank-”

“I mean whatever. Bring that back tomorrow.” You blink in surprise as he shoves your sweater in your hands, and he doesn’t like how excited he is when your fingers brush against his, he doesn’t like how your face in tears made him feel.

He was the head of the Gojo clan, he had to be strong, not a mess for some sad little girl in his class. He turns away and you call out his name softly. He tilts his head, blue eyes glinting at you. “Thank you!”

“Yeah.” He throws a peace sign at you, and Suguru runs up to him now.

“You like her!”

“Do not.”

He did not like you, no… 

Ten year old Satoru was surely falling in love already.

*****

Present Day

“You liked me then!?” You ask incredulously, remembering the look on his big blue eyes as he’d left you with his coat. “I thought you were picking on me?”

“I was… but I wanted your attention.” You exhale now, brushing his hair back gently, his eyes flutter shut. “I still want your attention. I just don’t throw snowballs at you anymore.”

“I mean, it kind of worked?” He laughs now, hot breath against your cheek as you pull back just a bit, cupping his face carefully. “You don’t need to throw snowballs anymore, I threw myself at you just now.”

“Nah, you didn’t. You just brought up something I’ve been dying to do, but too fucking afraid.”

“Afraid of me, you’re Satoru Gojo.” His hand feels so good up and down your back you damn near purr like a cat. “Popular, gorgeous, a sports star.”

“Well I don’t feel like any of that around you. I get… stupid and tongue tied. And say all the wrong shit.” You tilt your head, feeling the energy shift.

“You really liked me, Satoru?”

He sighs, thumb brushing across your lower lip, sending shivers of pleasure from just that down your spine. “Like… That’s not really the word.”

“No?” You whisper.

“No…” Satoru’s lips press against yours once more, and you let out a soft cry from the back of your throat, your hands entangling in his hair, body arching just so, earning his soft moan as he pulls back, your noses touching. “I didn’t just sleep with you before, back at the beginning of college, remember?”

“Oh I remember… somehow, despite the beer.”

“I didn’t because… it would be more.”

You shift just a bit, earning his breath catching, feeling the pressure between your thighs. “Is this too much?”

“No, no. Not enough.” You moan now, as his tongue slips past your lips, swiping in and swirling with yours, you drink up his every breath, as he sips up your cries. “Fuck, feel how hot you are.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s sexy. You’re sexy.” Satoru eases back now, a pink blush on his high cheekbones. “Story time, ready for more? If you listen good, Santa will take good care of you.” He teases, brushing thumbs over your nipples.

“Of course, Santa Toru. Carry on.”

Satoru smirks, looking so charming, you feel your blood rushing through your veins, struggling to calm as he speaks. “Remember eighth grade well?”

“Of course, you were already a little wise guy.” You earn his serious look, and he is shaking his head. And then it hits, that memory, of your first kiss ever with anyone, with Satoru Gojo. “You mean our kiss?”

“Yeah, our kiss.”

*****

The Second time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Eighth Grade- Age 14

Satoru was extremely popular, especially with the girls in school, he had several of them all over him even though he came on a date with one of your pretty classmates. You at this point have the biggest crush on him, though you certainly wouldn’t tell him, and he wouldn’t look at you that way, surely. You’re sipping on punch as you sit on one of the bleachers, watching everyone dance.

Little do you know, Satoru is watching you, his blue eyes keep peering your way over and over, looking at how cute you are in this pink, floofy little dress, one he didn’t expect to see you in. You’re nervously fidgeting with your little red solo plastic cup, smiling and waving a bit at him, as girls keep asking him questions, and one is dragging him out to the dance floor.

You watch Satoru with his hands on her waist, the thoughts of that alone make you feel sick for some reason, you’re not sure why. Suguru Geto comes up to you now with a smile, long hair pulled half up off his head, holding a hand out, you look around. “You sure? Me?”

“Yes you silly, you look pretty tonight.” You can’t stop the shy smile on your face as he stands you up, taking you to the floor for your first dance with someone.

“Thanks Suguru.” You say, he puts his hands on your waist as you both sway side to side, and you feel Satoru’s eyes burning holes as you both do, as he spins around the dance floor.

“Do you like him?”

“Like who?”

“Satoru.” Suguru tilts his head, and you want to sink into the floor, exhaling and shaking your head. Suguru smiles. “Not at all?”

“As a friend um… even if so, he’s too busy with his fan club.” Suguru chuckles at that, spinning you now.

“You think he doesn’t like you?”

“No way he does.” Suddenly Satoru’s standing between you both, arms crossed, his face just gets prettier every year, it’s really not fair you think.

“My turn.” He says, and Suguru gives a little mock bow, winking at you and dancing with another girl, Satoru’s hands tremble when they hit your waist, fingertips brushing over the mesh of your skirt. Something about the contact makes you gasp, your eyes flying to him when your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling how broad they’ve gotten.

“You don’t have to dance with me, Satoru. Suguru was already being nice.” You look down nervously, afraid to misstep, to accidentally stomp on his foot.

“Why do you think I don’t want to?”

“You have so many pretty girls, but you are a sweet friend. Thank you.” He pauses now, and you pause with him, his blue eyes glinting as there are lights flashing all around you all, in the middle of the dance floor. “What’s wrong, Satoru?”

What’s wrong is how he wants to kiss you, to kiss his best friend, he wonders if your lip gloss tastes yummy, and he shouldn’t wonder. He’s kissed girls, but he has never wanted to kiss anyone like he does you, you’re looking up at him curiously, his hand on the small of your back now. You’re always so shy and insecure, and Satoru doesn’t know why.

You’re so beautiful.

He should tell you.

Instead however, he opens his mouth, then closes it, to open it again, finally he just leaves you. You’re trembling in embarrassment, scowling now and following him out of the throngs of people as people are watching and whispering. You stomp out into the hallway, he even walks right out of the double doors. You follow him and are shouting his name.

“You’re so rude sometimes! You shouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t want to!” You shout, feeling tears pricking your eyes, and Satoru turns around then, tears glistening in his own eyes, making you pause.

“Why can’t you understand?” He asks, cupping your face with a cool hand, and it feels far too good on your overheated cheeks.

“Understand what, that my best friend is being mean?”

“I’m not being mean. I can’t… I can’t…” He exhales now, hormonal brain whirling, why can’t he think of anything good to say!? Why can’t he tell you he’s got it so bad for you, that you’re all he thinks of sometimes? But he’s so scared because you’re so close to him, such a good friend. What if you don’t feel the same?

“You can tell me anything. Always.” You cup his hand on your cheek, he feels how warm it is under his touch, leaning down now, your eyes dart to his lips, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks. “What are you…”

Satoru presses his lips against yours, your first kiss ever, you pause as your heart is pounding in your chest, unsure of what to do. Where do you put your hands!? Where do you… stand? You step back and look at him with shock, he’s so serious which is nothing like the Satoru you know, a goofy silly boy who’s always bright and smiling.

“You just kissed me.” You whisper, unable to say what you want to, that you have never felt your heart beat so fast, that you have never imagined a kiss from the boy you have it so bad for. That you’re so happy you could spin.

“I did.” Is all he manages, it sounds choked out, as he leans close again, the wind fluttering leaves around your feet, in uncomfortable platform heels you’ve stolen from your mother’s closet.

“But don’t you have a date tonight?” You touch your lips, still tingling with him, and Satoru gulps now, visible, leaning in close again. “Don’t confuse me, please, you would never be interested in me.”

“Why do you think that way? Why can’t you see that I-”

“Satoru!” Satoru’s date comes out now, and you feel terrible, you feel so embarrassed, especially when he shoots her a smile, and then a sullen look at you as she grabs his arm. “Oh it’s Satoru’s little friend. You’re like a little sister, right?”

You glare hurt eyes at Satoru now, and he feels himself closing right back up, knowing how bad those words hurt you, how confused you must be. “A little sister? Is that what you call me?” You ask, quietly, hiding your every feeling.

“I said we were really close like family, yes, but…” You laugh just a bit, blinking back tears, looking at his date now.

“He’s definitely just like family. Have fun you two.” You stomp off then, and Satoru wants to stop you, wants to say something, but he thinks he’ll just make it worse. You left right after, he didn’t see you the rest of the dance, and the next week at school you were back to normal, his sweet friend, you both didn’t bring it up, what happened.

Satoru knew he hurt your feelings, and he didn’t know how to apologize, or how to tell you how much the kiss meant, and how badly during every school project, every study session, that he wanted to do it again. So instead, he just stays your friend, wondering if you forgot it all.

*****

Present Day

You feel pesky tears prick the back of your eyes, sighing shakily now as Satoru’s lips pout just a bit, his brows drawn together. “You felt something for me? Then?”

“Yes, I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up.” You remember how hurt you were, to be called that, after your first kiss, remember rushing home and crying in your bed all night.

“I thought it was some dare or something.” You admit, and he leans forward, shaking his head, pulling you more firmly against his hard body, a body you’ve dreamt of being pressed against this way more than once.

“No, not at all. You looked pretty in that dress, I remember it like it was yesterday, exactly what you wore.” Satoru’s voice gets husky as his gaze lowers, to your breasts that are showcased in black and red lace over your dress, you feel it like a caress, filling you with longing.

“You were my first kiss.” You say now, his eyes widen in surprise.

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked. You never brought it up again.” You swipe at an errant tear as Satoru cups your face gently.

“I was a shithead.” You giggle now, nodding. “You’re not supposed to agree!”

“Well you were. Why’d you kiss me, Satoru?” You lean in close, lips just a breath from him now, tasting his sweetness on his lips, tantalizing you.

“I thought it would be my epic moment. You rushed after me, thought I’d tell you how I feel, finally. But then…”

“How did you feel?” He sighs now, kissing your lips once more.

“You listened to story number two, I said I’d treat you for being so good. On the nice list, hmm?” You giggle again, as he kisses down your chest.

“You’re avoiding the question… mmm… not complaining.” You gasp when he reveals one of the peaks of your breasts now, he lets out a soft moan.

“You’re so pretty.” His lips are descending on it, latching on a nipple and sucking. You enwrap your hands in his hair, pulling it while he sucks on it with his hot mouth.

Desire shoots down your body, making you tremble, Satoru’s hand presses against your tummy, fingers slipping against the soft velvet of your dress, your eyes roll back at how good it feels when his teeth nip at the peak. He pulls back, strings of saliva dripping from his lips, then he’s pulling your other one out, shifting you to straddle his lap, and you feel him.

Fuck he feels so good against you, when you sink down on his lap, and he’s got another peak in his mouth, his hand squishing the other, lips trailing back up, looking at you under those snowy lashes. You’re trembling now, thighs tense as you feel his length under those slacks, pressing against soaked panties. His head falls back as he sinks your hips lower.

“Oh my god.” He murmurs. “You’re so wet from just that? You’re so desperate for me, hmm?”

“Oh fuck you.” You glare, he laughs softly as you try to back up, yanking you back down.

“I like you so needy. It’s cute.” Your eyes are just narrowed now, and you slide your hips down his length, earning him tensing, sucking in a breath.

“You’re needy. It’s so cute.”

“Brat.” He brings your lips back down to his, and relishes in the feel of you, the taste of you. God he’s wanted this for so long, but he has to tell you, he has to tell you what’s in his heart, even if he is currently thinking of sinking into the heat that’s grinding on his cock. He pulls away, physically painful, looking into your dazed eyes.

“More stories!? We’re gonna need a break, I won’t be able to focus.” Your hair is falling softly against his chest as you roll your hips again, and he presses up, feeling the slick heat even through the barriers.

“For every story you listen to, I’ll make you cum.” He watches the mess that makes you with a satisfied grin.

“But I’ve already listened to two!”

“There are three more.”

“You can’t cum five times in one…”

“You’re doubting me, hmm?” Your lips press his again, and he hoists you up, holding you effortlessly in strong arms, pressing you against the wall now, the coolness on your back doing nothing to cool down your body.

“Maybe you’re all talk, all star.” He snorts now, easing you down, pressing his arms on either side of you.

“Then a little demonstration, before the next story.” His hand slips up your dress by the hem, baring your thighs, you tremble as your eyes lock, and he finds you over your panties, dripping and sticky. “Fuck, these are ruined.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You whine out as he presses against your clothed clit, moaning as he does, pressing his finger up higher, you’re whimpering, slick coating his fingers. “Please…”

“Please what, sweet girl?” Satoru murmurs softly, and you’re trembling, hand gripping his wrist, feeling the strong muscles on his arm.

“Touch me.” He slips his fingertips under your panties now, finding your aching clit and rubbing in circles, making you throb around nothing, head slamming back into the wall as his lips capture yours again. He moves in tantalizing circles, quicker and quicker, working you up, making you want more and more. “Ngh!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He huffs, pressing his finger up more, blue eyes flicking over your face, free hand cupping your chin. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

He starts pressing up more, your cunt soaking his fingers as he works your clit so good, you’re gasping when it hits you, the orgasm from Satoru’s long fingers that keep slipping to tease your entrance. You’re dying for more, but he pulls his finger away, your hands are clinging to his shirt, crumpling the fancy fabric, Satoru slips his finger to his lips now, moaning.

“You’re so sweet tasting. Mmm.” He kisses you again, coating your lips with your own slick, you’re grinding up against his thigh that’s now slotted between yours. “Can’t wait to drink you up.”

“Drink me, I… Toru, the things you’re saying…” He’s kissing down your cheek, down your neck, before he pulls back with a smile. “Let me…”

Your hand slips down his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touches. “Not yet, horny little nerd.”

“Oh whatever!” You shove at him now, as he doesn’t allow you to touch his cock whatsoever yet, gripping your wrist above your head.

“That’s one, I’ll give you four more, but I need you to listen.”

“Or what, I’m on the naughty list?” You tease, tugging on his hat, he fixes it back on his head with a smirk. “Who knew you even remembered little things like that about me.”

“Little things? That kiss wasn’t a little thing.” You melt at his words.

Words Satoru has longed to tell you.

“Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I tried. A couple more times. Now… Come on, we’ll make an appearance, and continue this soon. Don’t you pout, can’t just use me for my body.”

“Oh god.” You breathlessly giggle as you all get back to the party, and Satoru’s snatching you up in his arms for a dance, you feel your friends gazing upon you both, sharing knowing looks. “You sure can dance, Satoru.”

“Of course I can.” He spins you now, bringing your back against him, you feel his strong chest on your back, your ass pressed against his hard thighs. His hands guide your hips as the music plays, soft and sweet like his caresses.

“So what’s next, Santa Toru? On the cringy memory train of me.”

“Cringy of you? Nah. Well, the next trip of Christmas past would be… Sophomore year of high school. Remember that bowling night?”

“Bowling night, which one?” You’re turning your head to look up at him, his santa hat is falling just so, as you sway with him, and remember.

*****

The Third Time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Sophomore Year of High School- age 16

Satoru and you had fallen back into an easy friendship, you all were going bowling, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, you and Satoru. You all were always together, along with a couple other close friends, and Satoru’s new girlfriend, she was very pretty and very clingy, all over him to the point Suguru was laughing at it. Satoru could barely get a moment to breathe.

Nanami is showing you how to bowl, and something in Satoru tenses, as you’re giggling up at him and grinning, and he sees Nanami is blushing. He’s mentioned a few times he thinks you’re sweet and pretty, and Satoru supposes no one else he knows would be good enough for you, aside from his friends. But it hurts, to see his hand on your shoulders, on your back.

Satoru’s girlfriend is kissing all on his neck, irritatingly, she’s gorgeous and a star cheerleader, who should be with the star player, right? Satoru supposes that’s what is done, and he loves making out with her and more… but… something about you is addling his psyche, constantly. Every time you laugh it’s like his heart tightens, every brush of your skin against his makes him weak.

Even hugging you was hard now, so he’d backed off a bit, you’re too pretty, you smell too good, you look so pretty in those little school uniforms. He can’t even stand to see you in those skirts. Thankfully you’re just wearing blue jeans, so that he didn’t have to stress even more about you and Nanami.

Why can’t he just tell you!?

He gets so tongue tied around you, Satoru Gojo, the boy who can’t ever shut up, but with you he stutters, he stammers, he blushes. And ever clueless, you have no idea what your effects are on him, on anyone. Still so insecure, but Satoru really does not know why or how, can’t you tell that you alone make him go crazy? That all these girls are just not you.

You smile at him now, a little sad he notices, waving, and only serving to make his girlfriend clingier. You walk up now, looking at him for a moment, before looking at the group. “Does anyone want pizza? I’m so hungry, I’ll buy.”

“I’ll come with you.” Satoru stands now, his girlfriend huffs.

“Don’t leave me, Gojo.”

“Just gonna get food, you want something baby?” Baby, the little term crushes your damn teenage heart, as Satoru pecks a kiss on his girlfriend’s lips, and you can’t get over Satoru enough to even have a dating life. You compare any man to him, to this ever taller, lanky best friend of yours.

Satoru’s gotten six feet tall now, towering over everyone, and the basketball has only served to enhance every muscle. Just being at his game yesterday, seeing his muscles in his jersey had been too much to handle, you’d had to jot it all down in your diary, fast becoming a Satoru Gojo diary. Not that you could say anything, he’s always got a girl on his arm.

You remember that kiss so well, what had he been thinking? Sometimes you worry it was some dare, some joke or something. It’s the only kiss you’ve had still, though you think if you had another you could maybe start pushing that back, maybe realize it wasn’t so amazing, right?

Satoru comes with you now, walking beside you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you all are walking toward the food court. “Missed ya short stuff.”

“Missed you, tall ass.” You giggle now as he grins down at you, nudging you. “Everyone’s short compared to you. What are you even eating!?”

“Lots of candy and cookies.”

“Ah, that’s the secret. I’ll grab you something sweet.” You order pizza for everyone, then you order churros, one of Satoru’s favorites. He moans when he sees it, hugging and picking you up, you try to ignore how the casual touch gets you.

“Thank you, sweets.” He smacks a kiss on your cheek, you cup your face carefully, looking down at your tennis shoes.

“No biggie. Gotta feed you, growing boy and all.” He starts nibbling as you all wait for the pizza to finish, sitting at a little booth now, his thighs are spread and they’re so long they’re pressing against your thighs, making you so flustered, but you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

He does notice though, he notices everything about you, he wants to tell you then, to stop this facade of friendship. But he’s on a date, and you’re both with friends in a crowded bowling alley. It doesn’t seem the right moment, but he’s carefully watching you while you are taking a little sip of your drink.

“Have a bite.” He says, and you freeze.

An indirect kiss!?

You are thinking too much!

You lean forward and take a nibble, he watches as you do, little crystals of sugar on your lips. “Yummy.”

An indirect kiss!

Satoru thinks with a smile, wiping the little bit of sugar dust off you, and then freezing. You both freeze, your eyes locked on each other, Satoru’s thumb lingers on your lower lip, eyes lowering to stare at it, your chest rises and falls with your breaths, his attention now on your collarbone, where you still wear that necklace he got you forever ago.

A friendship necklace.

“You still wear that, huh?” He asks quietly now, you touch it as is a habit, it’s a long faded half of a yin yang.

“Of course I do. Do you have yours?”

“I still have it.” You smile, brightening his heart then, and he opens his mouth, he has to just say it, to say he has that necklace dangling off a picture frame, and the picture is of you and him. A polaroid you all took together on a field trip, that he looks at it every night.

“That makes me unreasonably happy. I was sure you tossed it.”

Satoru blinks. “Tossed it?”

“Well yeah, we’re older now, and I know Suguru is your real best friend. I’m like secondary, honorary.” You playfully mess up his perfect silky locks, but he doesn’t laugh, no he’s serious again, as serious as that eighth grade dance.

“Do you like Nanami?” He asks suddenly, surprising you.

“He is sweet and so handsome, yeah. I do like emo boys a bit. Why?” You ask curiously, pretending to like Nanami, would it make it less painfully obvious that you’re in love with Satoru?

He frowns now. “I didn’t like seeing you two-”

“Pizza’s up.” Satoru uses the moment, hopping up, leaving you confused, but he doesn’t even acknowledge any of it, just grabbing the pizza boxes and smiling down at you casually.

“Satoru, what did you mean? Do you think I wouldn’t be good for Nanami?” You ask, insecurities wracking you. He shakes his head as you both head toward your friends again, through the busy room.

“No, I didn’t say that, not at all.”

“So what do you mean?” He opens his mouth again, just as his girlfriend bounces up and smiles at him, and you realize how foolish you are to think he meant that.

You all go back to being more separated, Nanami has gotten you a slice of pizza and you’re both sitting together and smiling, but your eyes keep going to Satoru, hurt in them when his clingy ass girlfriend practically drapes herself on him. Satoru needs to let these feelings go, he’s doing nothing but hurting and confusing you. So he decides the best thing to do?

A little bit of distance.

*****

Present Day

“Is that why you basically ignored me for like months?” You ask curiously, Satoru spins and dips you, bending you back over his arm in a move that would make anyone swoon, and of course you do, his lips hovering over yours.

He brings you back up, making you dizzy and breathless. “I thought I was hurting you, confusing you.”

“You definitely were confusing. But I missed you when you didn’t spend any time with me at all. That hurt.” He nods just a bit, the song is ending, and you’re still pressed so close against him.

“I wanted to say that I didn’t like Nanami with you, because I wanted to be with you. But how could I say that?”

“I don’t know… you could have tried to?”

“Stop being all logical.” You snort now. “Another orgasm on the list.” He whispers against your ear, you tremble now.

“Are you all finally going to get this tension taken care of?” Shoko asks, and you gasp, realizing they’re all watching you two.

“Tension?”

“Since high school.” Shoko says.

“Nah, Middle School.” Nanami counters.

“Even younger.” Suguru chimes in, and you watch Gojo’s cute little blush overtake his perfect pale skin.

“Seems like you all planned this.” You admonish, and they whistle, looking every which way, but Satoru looks right at you still.

“Think you’re invited to the afterparty, my place?” He says softly, unlike most of the people in dorms or frat houses, Satoru has his own place, beautiful too. You look at your friends now.

“Are they invited?”

“Nah, exclusive.”

“Oh just go, dear god. I’m so tired of the pining.” Shoko says, shoving at Satoru and handing you your coat.

“You kicking us out!?” You demand playfully, only being shooed right out, into the cold snowy night with Satoru. His hands come to warm your cheeks, as you stare at him with glittery eyes, eyes that make his heart falter every time. “Satoru I really… I’ve been… for so long…”

“Ah-ah. You have two more Christmas stories. C’mon, I’ll tell you one on the way.” You follow him breathlessly to his fancy black sports car, he turns on the heat after he starts the car, a hand pressing on your thigh. You lean close to his side, cuddling against him for warmth like a cat. “Remind me to get you cold more often.”

“I hate the cold, ugh. You’re warm though.” You snuggle closer, shutting your eyes and inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Feels so natural.”

“I know, it always scared me.”

“Did it? Wait, are we transitioning to another teen Gojo tale!?”

He chuckles now, one hand brushing against your thigh, you’re wrapped around his arm, his other hand guiding the steering wheel, the lights scattering across the dark night, reflecting his perfect profile. You feel the heat building and building, even worse by the orgasm he’d brought you, planting a little kiss on his neck.

Your lips on his neck drive him so crazy, as does your sweet little body against him, he inhales that scent he’s always loved, this vanilla cupcake scent that makes his mouth water. How do you still smell just like that? How do your lips still taste so sweet, burned in memories.

“I really should tell you how I feel too.” You say softly, and his heart pounds in his ears as he tries to focus on the road. “After your two last stories, Santa.”

“Ah, yes. Be good and listen.” His hand now wraps your waist, making your thoughts anything but nice, but you nod against his neck, holding him close. “We’re up to Senior year, are you ready for the trip?”

“Ready. What part of Senior year, spirit guide?”

“That closet.” His voice gets husky.

“Oh… oh shit.”

*****

The fourth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Senior Year of High School- age 18

“I can’t believe they put us in here.” You whisper, trapped in the closet with Satoru Gojo, just last week he was proclaimed prom King, and he’s as popular as ever, somehow taller too.

Satoru’s mind is foggy as he stands in the little closet with you, he’s so close he can inhale that scent, he can feel you against him. He feels his body react, god if he just brushes against you it does. And you’re both just not as close as you once were, since the awkwardness of watching you with Nanami, who you even dated for a few months, much to his displeasure to see.

You’re both single now, something that hasn’t happened in some time, it seems Satoru always has arm candy, and you always were left to wonder if he’d ever notice you. Even in a closet, you imagine his mind is far away, perhaps on his ex-girlfriend, the prom queen and cheer captain. You couldn’t even do a somersault without getting injured, a clumsy mess.

You hate comparing yourself, but you can’t help it with Satoru, you’ve had boyfriends now, you’ve had kisses. A little more experience. But something keeps drawing you back to all the what ifs, of how someone can be so close to you, yet so distant, just out of reach, as if you couldn’t touch him like you wanted… some barrier he has.

“They’re just always thinking you have a crush on me.” Satoru says teasingly, cocky as hell. You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Uh huh. Well I don’t.”

“I don’t either.”

For some reason his words hurt you, and deeply.

Just like your errant words hurt him.

Both of you lying, both of you hurting, and for what? Well, because you still can’t picture a world where Satoru likes you, and he can’t manage to open up, to be honest with you. He’s right behind your back, you feel his breaths against your neck, blowing and tickling your hair now, making you tremble.

“Good, wouldn’t wanna break your nerdy heart.” He whispers, hands on your waist, taking it over, long fingers sinking into the jut of your hips. Your breath comes even quicker in the dark, quiet room now.

“You’re mean lately, your head’s so big I don’t know how it fits through doors.” Satoru laughs, meanly, pressing harder against you.

“Not the only thing that’s big.” He whispers, you tremble now, looking back nervously, eyes adjusting in the dark.

“W-well I won’t find out. Not your type.”

“Says who?”

“Says your very long list of girls. And that’s cool, but don’t confuse me.” You turn to him now, pressed against him intimately in the closet, and suddenly everything stops, the world stops, as he holds you in his arms. As he feels your bare skin from your crop top, so sexy he wishes no one else could see you. “Satoru…”

“You’re beautiful.” Your breath stops in your lungs, when he leans in so close, god it’s been four years since middle school, but you can still feel it lingering, that kiss all those years ago. His words muddle your mind.

“What?”

“Beautiful. You always have been, okay? Stop thinking that you’re not.” Your tears hit your eyes, while you tremble in his strong hold, fire coursing through your veins, mind whirling.

“Oh, thank you Satoru. That’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Nah.”

“It is. Thank you.” You lean up now, kissing his cheek, he shuts his eyes at how good you feel, your every curve pressed against him, his hands slipping down your hips now, you gasp, a little breathy, sexy sound. He turns his head now, lips brushing yours for just a moment.

Just a moment and then he’s devouring your mouth, tongue slipping in, taking over everything you are, and you melt with him, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, as he presses you further against him. His hand pulls at your hair, making pain hit your scalp, but it feels so good. You moan, a sound you’ve not made with a guy, and he practically growls now.

Satoru presses you against the wall, the clothes on either side of you separating, dresses on either side of your skin when he lifts you, and your legs wrap around his hips. You pull back to suck in a breath, looking at Satoru with wide eyes, and he glints even in the dark, his lips glossy, he’s breathing as heavy as you. His strong hands grip your thighs, you feel how excited you are then.

“Satoru, what are we doing?” You ask carefully, and he wants to finally say it, in this closet, at some dumb party. He wants to say it, that he’s in love, that kissing you is better than anything he could imagine.

The door knocks now. “Seven minutes over!” You both separate quickly, you adjust your skirt, embarrassed at how you reacted, your nipples tight against your top, clearly visible, judging by his bright blue eyes that are glaring at them.

“What was that!?” You demand in a hushed whisper, and he opens his mouth, as the door keeps knocking. He glares now, opening it, and seeing it’s his ex, prom queen herself, she looks at you both and laughs now.

“Well that was probably a boring seven minutes.” You feel the words crush you, making you feel sick, you can feel you’re literally on fire from him. What is this, is this just what he does!?

Satoru sees you rushing away, and he follows you, ignoring his ex, trailing you and shouting your name. It was your turn to run from him, he supposes, usually it’s him running. He finally catches you, you’re shivering as the chill of autumn is hitting, and you’re barely wearing anything.

“You’re gonna get sick in that, wearing nothing!”

“You’re not my big brother. Certainly not right now after… what even was that!?” You demand, turning to him, eyes glistening with tears.

He feels it like a punch to the gut.

“You can’t just kiss me when you’re bored and date everyone else, everyone in your league.” Tears are falling, you’re shivering, Satoru gulps, shaking his head now.

“No, it’s not that. You’re in anyone’s league, fuck you’re out of anyone’s. I didn’t kiss you because of that.”

“Then why? Don’t you know, it means a lot to me?”

“I…”

“I’m not like you, I don't just sleep around.”

Satoru glares now. “And who says I do?”

“The entire school! And I don’t care as a friend, but I do care if you think I’m available like that.”

“You think I want to fuck you?” He asks, raising a brow, and your heart sinks in your stomach. “I didn’t try to fuck you, did I?”

“Then what…”

“Kissing, in a closet. You think that means sex? You’re cute, little virgin.” He pats your head and you smack at his hand, glaring, hurt written all over your face. Satoru hates himself so much, but he can’t say it, especially now. How can he even begin to tell you the truth!?

“I know what sex is.” Satoru glares. “I’m not an amusement, I’m your friend, you can’t act like that.”

“Fine then I won’t kiss you again, ya happy?”

“No!”

“No?” You shake your head, stomping away now, he grabs your wrist, making you glare at it. “Please, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what!?” Your face is covered with tears. “Just go get your prom queen, and leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have kissed me?” You whisper, he just gulps, aching to tell you how badly he wants you, to tell you he is in love with you. But he just stands there, like a damn idiot, as you continue to cry, yanking your hand away. “Don’t worry, we’ll just forget it.”

“What!? I didn’t-”

“Good bye.”

*****

Present Day

“Damn this place is beautiful, Satoru.” You murmur as you walk in after riding the elevator up, lingering memories of high school still in the air, creating tension.

His loft is sleek and gorgeous, an expansive open space with high ceilings, windows that overlook the night, you exhale at the view. It’s illuminating the modern room softly, a mix of lights in the buildings and moonlight seeping in. Sleek paintings of all kinds decorate his walls, it’s cozy and inviting, you’ve been here before, but something is different.

Everything is different.

“You want a drink, Sweets?” He murmurs softly, his hands slipping up and down your back, creating a network of goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Am I staying the night Toru?” You tease. He smiles so big now, illuminating the room.

“Of course you are. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.” Your breath catches at his tone, he casually smirks and saunters off to his kitchen, leaving you pulsing, as if your pussy has a goddamn heartbeat. “Aw, shy now?”

“N-no. I’ll take one.” You follow him into the pretty, sleek kitchen, Satoru has cookies he’s made earlier sitting on the stove, he pulls out bottles from his bar, mixing you up a drink, you take it and eye the cookies. “Are you baking for Santa?”

“I’m interested in your cookie.”

“Oh stop!” You snort in laughter, he does too, finally taking the santa hat off, popping it right on your head carefully. You lean up, slicking back his hair into place, feeling it like silk under your touch.

“You’re getting minimum four orgasms tonight. But I’ll give you a fifth if you can guess the next time I fucked up.”

“Guess? Shit… I think it was the night we both fucked up.”

“Ding-ding-ding.” He taps your nose, you smile at it, then he sips his drink as you do, now leaning back against the counter, looking up at him. “You’ve been so good though, I think I’ll give you another right now.”

“Oh yeah? I’m on the nice list?” You gasp when he’s bending low, sinking two fingers under your panties and inside your eager cunt, he moans out loud with you when you cling to him. “Oh f-fuck…”

“S’tight, s’wet…” He’s pressing that spongy spot in your gummy little walls now, your head falls back, leg wrapped on his, he’s kissing down your neck as he presses over and over, making you see stars. “There’s that spot. Good girl.”

“Toru!” You cry out as he fingers you with his stupidly long fingers, longer than the one guy you’ve been with, longer than his entire cock. You’re sure he didn’t hit as deep as Satoru’s fingers, and he surely didn’t finger you like that. You’re overtaken, cunt dripping down his hand, down to his silver rolex and dress sleeves.

“Hear yourself, huh sweetheart? How fuckin wet you are.” His low tone just edges you further, now he’s pulling back to look at you, and you’re closer and closer.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, he moans, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

“Oh fuck your santa stories, and fuck me-” He slams his lips on yours, pumping his fingers in and out of your soppy little cunt now, and you hear it squishing lewdly in the quiet loft, he presses other fingers against your breast, squishing as he pumps them, until you fall over the edge now, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“There it is, you’re taking them so good.” He cooes those words, you’re already fucked out and you haven’t even been fucked by him yet. You blink and struggle to make him come into focus, gasping for stuttering breaths.

“Oh my… oh my… I…” The room is spinning, he takes his fingers, dripping wet with your arousal, shoving them into your mouth now.

“Taste how sweet you are.” He orders, and you do just that, sucking on his fingers, tongue swirling around them, your pussy is pulsing more and more wetness out, as you crave more of him. “God you’re sexy.”

“Please…” You pull him down by his collar, kissing him, swapping the taste of you, only making Satoru harder. He can’t wait to bury his face in your plump little cunt, god it’s all he can think of.

“Patience. You came twice already, look at me.” You grab him then, and he about dies, nearly cumming from your touch, gasping.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck you’re a little horny brat. You have one more story.” You sigh then, head falling back, for more of Satoru’s kisses and bites, he wants to fuck you senseless, but he also wants to savor this, to make this perfect for you.

“Oh fine but I’m aching.”

Well so is he, precum making a wet spot in his boxers, straining against the fabric of his jeans, just from the smallest little touch. You’re so wet and hot there, so greedily your cunt sucked up his fingers, he can only hope he can last, if you touch him at all it will probably end him. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long.

“One more story, can you last?” He challenges. You giggle then, nodding.

“I can make it.” He studies you, bright eyed in that damn santa hat, imagining how beautiful your body must look while he gently strokes your shoulders, you bite your lip, eyes lidded with desire.

He hopes he can make it too.

*****

The Fifth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

College- Sophomore year- age 20

Everyone was celebrating the ball game, they had won nationals, and everyone was praising the all stars, Suguru and Satoru. They also were top of the fraternity, none of this was really your style, you were focused a little more on academics, though you helped Satoru study a ton to keep his high GPA, he was as smart as could be and still could accomplish so much.

You had been so proud of him, cheering him on from the stands eagerly. You all had taken some time to make up after that high school party, but truly you couldn’t be mad at him for long. You equated it to some strong spiked punch and being shoved in a closet together, close proximity. It certainly couldn’t be anything else.

Satoru comes up to you now with a big wide grin on his face, picking you up and spinning you, donned only in a Toga, showing far too much of his chiseled body. “Missed you short stuff!”

“Missed you too, Toru.” He hugs you so tight you hear your damn ribs creak, before he finally sets you down.

“You at a Frat Party!?”

“Yes, I had to celebrate the victory with you. So I make an appearance.”

“Elusive.” Suguru comes up and says, you hug him tightly.

“I miss you too!”

“You should hang out more.” He looks at Satoru. “Way more, shouldn’t she?”

“Um what? Sure.” He shrugs, looking away, as his friend calls him the fuck out, but luckily you’re oblivious, still a little shy, insecure thing.

If you were his you’d never feel that way.

But could you ever be? Or was Satoru stuck in this friend zone with you, until you move on, get married, have kids… go be a writer, he’s sure you’ll be famous, you’re so talented. And he’ll marry who he’s supposed to, who his parents pressure him to, and have a career with basketball, soon what would you all be, memories of each other?

But then why do you still wear it?

It’s a charm on your bracelet now, he imagines the little rope it was on broke long ago with all the wear it got, but you have his little yin charm right there, along with more charms you’ve added over the years. His gaze darts up your body, you’re wearing a sexy little grecian gown to go with the theme, with a golden crown in your hair of fake leaves.

You’ve even got glitter all over your skin, you’re so damn beautiful, like an actual goddess. So effortlessly pretty you take his breath away, he feels the effects of studying your curves right on his cock, he shifts then, hoping you can’t see it. But your eyes remain on his, as Suguru hands you a beer.

“Thanks Suguru. You all know I don’t drink these though.”

“Oh don’t be a baby, do it.” Satoru teases, you snort, and Satoru’s watching hungrily as you sip it. “What a baby sip.”

“I’m not chugging it!”

“Well I’m doing a keg stand.” Suguru gives you a little peck on the cheek, smirking as he earns Satoru’s ire. He knows more than anyone how long Satoru has been pathetic for you.

How do you not know?

“Go have fun, crazy.” You step a little closer to Satoru now, looking at the loud game of beer pong.

“Wanna play?”

“Oh god no, I’ll suck so bad.”

“Nah, c’mon.” Satoru drags you over by your hand, wondering if tonight could be the night. He’s coming off this high of winning that championship, you’re standing here looking like Venus herself, surely he can do it.

Why is he so afraid to tell you?

Soon you all are competitive, but he’s winning, annihilating you honestly, smacking every bounce you attempt, throwing and sinking endless pong balls into those solo cups. You pout now, earning his laughter as you keep sipping on your beer, until you end up with another. You finally sink one and bounce up and down, arms in the air, so fucking cute.

“Haha- take that, Toru!” You place your hands on your hips, sticking your tongue out, he’s reminded of the day he met you, the day he thought you were so cute he needed to yank your pigtails, and you’d stuck out a tongue.

“One hit and you’re claiming victory? What are you, the goddess of war?”

“Goddess of nothing, silly. You’re the one looking like a god.” You flush so damn cute now, looking down shyly at your words.

“A god hmm? Fits me.”

“Oh you’re so conceited.” You roll your eyes at him, but he does look like one, his strong, long, chiseled frame. He’s so gorgeous it makes you ache, he always has been, but it’s like every time you see him it’s worse, this need, this desire.

To be with him in so many ways.

Ways you haven’t yet, ways you shouldn’t want him.

“Finish the game, brat.” He tosses a ball your way, you laugh now, sinking another one and cheering, and soon you’re both a little tipsy, and playing together against Shoko and Suguru.

You both kick their asses, much to their dismay, Shoko opts for vodka shots like a classy bitch, Suguru is on another keg stand, and you and Satoru are giggling and dancing around to the music. It’s so loud you feel it thrumming through your entire body, Satoru’s so easy to fall into, you keep trying to hold back, but how can you? When he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

And how can Satoru ever hold back with you? He’s tried, four different times, to tell you how much he loves you, yet… How can he? As he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you against him, your head falling on his chest, as you’re grinning so big, he just… has to say it.

He has to.

“I need to say something…” He murmurs then, you can barely hear him, leaning up closer.

“Hmm? What Toru?”

Someone bumps into you then, knocking you against Gojo, and he glares now, shoving at the drunk frat brother. You wave your arms to stop him. “What the fuck man, watch it.”

“Shit, my bad Gojo, chill.” He then grins all big as he looks at you, where your toga is now falling, revealing far too much of your breast. You squeak, quickly trying to pin it up, and now Gojo’s torn between wanting to see you, and anger at this asshole. Gojo shoves him into a wall then.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her.” He says through his teeth, surprising you then.

“What, she's your girl? Weren’t you just banging a girl out last night?” He says with a laugh, and Satoru pauses, but you hear it.

You feel sick then, stepping back, how can you be so dumb, to think Satoru would want you, or choose you!? He’s never going to be interested, the only times he’s kissed you he was… why had he kissed you!? What was this friendship? Was it a friendship at all or you holding on to the idea of hope with him.

You’re blinking back stupid tears as you run off to a room, sobbing as you struggle to fix your toga, only for Satoru to walk in. You glare now.

“Go!”

“We’re not together, why are you mad if I fuck someone?” He demands, and you sputter, shaking your head, tears hot and sticky as they fall.

“I shouldn’t be upset.”

“Then why?” He’s right against you, big hands on your shoulders, you look up at him now, mascara streaking down your cheeks, his stomach drops at it.

“Because I’ll never be… I’ll never be…”

“Be what?”

“Yours.”

“Wh-what!?” You shake your head now, running out of the room, Satoru’s chasing you, reminiscent of two years ago, fuck it’s always a chase, a push and pull. “Come here! Stop it!”

“No, I’m done with this, with you giving me bits of affection, only to ruin them.” You shove at him now, he’s grabbing you, pulling you against him. “Don’t you kiss me, don’t you dare tease me.”

“I don’t kiss you to tease you, I kiss you-”

“For a game!”

“Shut your mouth.”

You scowl. “You shut your mouth.” Satoru shuts both your mouths, as you’re outside the insane frat house, pressing you against the brick wall of the dormitory, smothering your lips with his. You bite his lower lip, glaring as he pulls back.

“Stop running from me, stop hiding.” He begs, and you sigh.

“Why should I? I won’t be a notch on your bedpost.”

“You think-” Several people start filing out now, and Satoru’s got you pressed right on that wall, his chest heaving as he hovers, as the chaos ensues all around you both. “You think you’re that to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you. A friend you kiss every two fucking years or so?” You say with an angry glare, and he cups your waist, burning your bare skin with his touch, shooting desire straight through you.

“You’re so much more than that. If you’d just let me show you.” He whispers, but you’re so scared then, of letting go, your breathing gets erratic, as you feel his thigh pressing between yours, moving on it, earning his soft moan, vibrating his chest as your hands slip up it. “I have to tell you something, please.”

“I’m listening, mmm.” You arch again, craving him so badly, nothing like you’ve felt with anyone, it’s so maddening.

“I really… I really…” Satoru’s pausing now, stuttering, you make him a mess, he’s resting his head on yours, feeling your heat, thinking of sinking into it. Sure he had girls, only because he couldn’t have you. You were his all consuming thoughts, but how does he put it to words?

“Really…” You urge him on, and he gulps then, panicking. What if you don’t feel the same!? What if he ruins this…

“I really… you’re really…”

“Satoru! Satoru!” They all start cheering then, a whole group of his frat brothers, fists pumping in the air, and he lets you go, leaving you aching with need, he looks at you so longingly, you’re dying to know just what he wanted to say, but he smiles then, kissing your cheek, shaking his head.

“Come on.” He yanks you with him, as everyone starts chanting for Satoru, and you try to pretend you are okay, as Satoru hides his feelings yet again, and as you think maybe you should give up on it happening.

You’re in love with him, and it hurts.

How can you let him go finally?

*****

Present Day

“You were trying to tell me something. Important.” You say softly now, in Satoru’s cozy kitchen, and he nods then, gulping, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I was. I was trying to confess… that I love you.” You blink once, twice, three times. Surely you’re dreaming. Surely he can’t…

“You love me?” You whisper back, and he nods, so beautiful as he cups your face in his big hands.

“So you see, baby… I can’t just hook up.” Satoru’s words bring you to the present, his eyes are glossy, mirroring the deep emotions you both feel, your breaths come faster, as he lifts you up, placing you on his counter.

“All this time… you felt the same?” You whisper, he swipes at your tears now, smiling.

“You crying?” He asks, and you just nod, remembering that day. “I’ve loved you since I threw those snowballs at you. So, so long ago, I knew it, that I was in love with this pretty, sweet girl.”

“Satoru…” You snatch him to you, kissing him through your falling tears, salty against your sweet lips. Satoru’s heart feels so achingly full, his hands shake as he slips them up your thighs, he’s never been nervous until now. Never felt anything like this, like your thighs around his narrow hips, pressing his fingers into the plush of them.

“There can be no hook up, pretty. I need you to be mine if you want this, I need you to be only mine.” Satoru says softly, possessive now, you feel yourself melting more and more, feel the insane need build inside of you.

“Satoru, I’m in love with you too. I have been, since you gave me your jacket after plowing me with giant snowballs, you mean little shit.” He laughs now, through his own tears, that you swipe with trembling fingers, exhaling. “Oh Satoru, I’ve always been yours.”

He slams his lips on you now, picking you up in his arms, you cling to him as he clumsily navigates you to his room, your tongues not stopping, teeth clicking together with the force of your kisses. You’re drinking every bit of him in, as he’s drinking you in, barely coming up for air, in gasps. Your kisses get hungrier, messier, sloppier than anything you’ve ever known.

Satoru’s hands are all over you as he lays you down on his bed, pressing you into his soft, plush mattress, leaning up to study you, carefully, brushing his fingers across your cheeks, wiping the last of your tears. “All mine?”

“All yours.” He moans again, kissing you deeply, hands slipping up your dress, you’re arching up for more of his touch, his kisses, hands hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt, kissing each piece of revealed skin.

“Baby… I need to see you. Now. Please.” He says softly, giving you puppy dog eyes, you nod, so nervous, when he pulls back, pulling you to sit, and slipping your dress up over your head, the santa hat falling with it. When you’re bare to him aside from your damn panties and lacy little bra, he groans. “Oh my god.”

You are so beautiful his heart pounds in his chest, Satoru drinks you in, your every perfect curve and line, every inch of your silky smooth skin on display. He unlatches your bra with a quick flick, revealing those perfect tits he’d sucked on earlier, god you make his mouth salivate. He’s literally drooling when he gets to your panties now, a soaking mess.

“You got so wet.” He cooes, enjoying your reaction, your hips shifting, thighs pressing together, as he eases them off you, finally seeing your pussy for the first time. “Fuck it’s perfect.”

“Th-thank you… Toru!” He’s lost it now, hungrily staring at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal, lips all puffy from his edging. He exhales, just his breath making you shiver, crying out.

“So easy, hmm?”

“Oh you… ah!” Satoru breathes against you again, grinning as you jerk, as much as he wants to make love love to you, god he also wants to fuck you senseless.

“Imma ruin you for anyone.” His insane words versus the sweetness wreck you already, you’re screaming out when he flicks his tongue up your slit, looking down into his bright blue eyes, seeing the shift. Satoru is going feral as he inhales you, pressing his face against you, nose bumping your engorged clit, kissing at your entrance.

“Toru!” Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly you’re pulling it, as you feel him against you, as he tastes you there. Then he’s devouring your pussy, spreading the lips wide, tongue sliding into your velvety walls, fucking you with it, making you start to gush all over his pretty face, moaning as your back arches.

Satoru’s lapping up all your honeyed arousal, as you start dripping everywhere, and your walls are fluttering around that wet muscle. “F-fuck, taste s’good… god could do this forever.”

“Ngh!” Is all you manage, incoherent at the pleasure his mouth is giving you, feeling your peak coming as he slips two fingers back in you, pulling back and looking up at you, face glittering in your slick. The sight of it edges you on, as he finally licks your clitoris, just one flick and you shatter.

“That’s it, good girl… s’good f’me.” He whispers, as you’re pulsing around his thick fingers, and he laps up more of your cum. “You’re so messy.”

“M-messy…” You can’t function, you’re trembling with aftershocks, he grins at you, an insane feral fucking grin, his silky white locks falling just so. “Please, lemme see you.” You manage, and he gulps now, blushing pink, shocking you since he’d just been so cocky. “Satoru, lemme touch you.”

“Not too much, I won’t last.” He admits, and leans back off the bed standing, you watch him, raising up on your elbows, hair falling down behind you softly like a curtain. He starts to get undressed, and you drink every inch he bares in slowly, his hard, chiseled body, all the lean muscles, abs cut within an inch of your life. Your eyes go lower now as he unbuckles his belt.

You bite your lip, cunt still aching from his play, from the pleasure he has brought you, but when he gets to his boxers, and your eyes trail down the white hair below his belly button you gasp. His cock slaps that belly button when he takes off his boxers, and Satoru Gojo is huge, thick, long with a curved pink tip, beading with pearly white precum already.

“Oh my god… you’re so beautiful, Satoru.” You say softly, coming to your knees on the bed, he exhales nervously, he has always known he looks good, but hearing you say it meant everything. Seeing the desire makes your eyes dilate and glitter, as your eyes worship him.

“You’re beautiful, especially on your knees.” You kiss down his abdomen, then you kill him, when you grip his cock with your tiny little hand, that friendship charm still dangling from your wrist, and God Satoru cannot wait to buy you real jewelry, a ring to glitter as you stroke him.

His hands enwrap in your hair, pulling it into a ponytail as you lap at his tip with a kitten flick, making his eyes roll back, he can tell you’re maybe not experienced as you try to suck, making out with his tip, but he loves it, he loves you. Anything you’re doing to him, your soft strokes and you sucking more and more, until you’re drooling all over his cock.

“I need to be inside you, now baby. Sorry, I can't take this.” He has you back on your back so quick you barely blink, and then you feel him, stroking his thick tip on your slick cunt, you’re shaking, arching up, so ready.

“Will it fit though?” You ask, and he chuckles, blushing more now.

“As wet as this pussy is? Fuck yeah it will.” You whimper as he’s kissing you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and aligning his cock with your soaking entrance. “You ready?”

You nod, breath shaky, and Satoru pushes in, so slowly, letting you feel every inch of his thickness filling you up, stretching you. You feel so full, so complete with him inside you, he gasps as he sinks deeper, stretching and burning your skin, but you crave it, you want more, more, more.

He grips your hands, entwining them above your head, so intimate and beautiful you want to cry. “God, baby, you’re so tight. So wet. Fuck… look at you.” He sinks in deeper, lifting a thigh now, releasing a hand, eyes studying every bit of your face as you take more of him. “So pretty.”

“Satoru!” You’re whining out, your nails digging into his back as his cock sliding deeper, deeper still, so many inches you can’t comprehend, until he’s shoved so deep you feel him against your cervix. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” He moans right with you, your pussy clenching him so tight, he can feel your walls gripping him like a vise, but you take him, fuck you take him, so greedy your slick little cunt, pushing him over the edge. “Fuck.. that’s it… slutty little cunt loves it, hmm?”

“Slutty, I- you- ah! There, there!” You scream out when he hits that spot with his tip, dragging on it inside your walls, and you’re pouring so much wetness you can hear it, as the gentle slap slap slap of his pelvis on your ass hits, as his balls are smacking your little ass hole, and his white hair is grinding on your clit when he bottoms out, you’re soaking his veiny length, dripping onto his fancy covers.

“That’s it, baby, s’good. Taking this dick like it’s made for you.” He huffs, fucking you harder now, faster, making you shudder as he slips his hand between you both, pressing a thumb against your clit, making you cum so hard all you see is stars, glittery fucking darkness.

Is this what you’ve been missing!?

“L-love you…. L-love - ah!” You’re brokenly confessing as he lifts a thigh, pressing it high, yanking your hips down more on his length, fucking you harder and harder with every thrust.

“You’re m-mine now, baby. All - f-fuck- mine, to fuck whenever I want, however I want. Got me baby?” He whispers, losing it over you, you’re so perfect, so wet, so pretty under him, he’s imagining every position he wants you in, every place he wants to fuck you in, how he wants to cum in your perfect little cunt, fill you. “Answer me baby, answer me.”

His voice is whiny, pleading, you’re barely able to take a breath or function, damn near falling off the earth, clinging to his perfect skin for any stability, as he starts to pound mercilessly into your pussy. Sweat drips down his nose onto one of your breasts, which he squishes with his hand, pinching your nipple and twisting as he fucks so hard it hurts.

“Too much, too much.” You manage, and he smiles now, that cocky Satoru you’ve known your whole life, leaning down and rolling his hips just so, grinding that leaky tip against your cervix, pushing you to cum again, this time you’re drooling, mouth wide open.

“Aw you’re s’cute like this… look at you. Drooling. Dumb fucked out look.” You can’t even be mad, you want him to keep going, so you whine, nodding just a bit, earning his grin. “And you like it, being so slutty just for me. Only me.”

“Y-you.” Is all you manage, but it’s enough to send him over the fucking edge, pressing your thighs up high, smushing your breasts, now he’s so deep you feel him everywhere, your stomach, your entire body, he’s moaning as he watches your tummy bulge between your thighs.

“Feel me, everywhere, fucking up your guts… huh?” You just weakly nod, whining as you’re so embarrassingly wet, you hear every slutty sound of his cock wrecking you. “Made f’me, s-say it again.”

“Made for ah- y-you! Satoru!” He’s groaning, leaning his heavy weight on you, pelvis smacking hard as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, and now he’s cupping your face, insane swirling blue eyes drinking you in.

“Anyone fill you yet, baby?” You shake your head, and he grins even more psychotically. “Good, Imma fill you up, gonna be d-dripping me for days.”

“C-cum in me, cum in me. D-do it, please.” You beg, you don’t fucking care, you want it, you need it. His hips stutter, mouth dropped open as his cock thrusts harder and harder in your now sloppy pussy, so wet and needy she’s sucking him up.

“Cum in you? F-fill you baby?” He’s so sweet now, a psychotic contradiction that you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of. “Put a baby in you?”

“Baby!? I… fuck it… yes! Put one in me, please.” You’re pathetic for him, and he relishes in it, starting to thicken, as your cunt milks him.

“Gonna breed you, f-fuck you feel so- ah - gonna breed your pussy, every fucking day, got me? Say yes baby.”

“Y-yes, please…” He whimpers then, Satoru Gojo, all star, prom king, the strongest man you know, whimpers as he begins to cum inside you so deep, coating your walls with his hot white ropes. You cum just from that, clinging to him, he slams his lips on yours over and over in messy kisses.

“Never felt this, oh my god… your pussy what the… yes baby take it all… f-fuck please…” He’s whining as he pushes his cum deeper inside you, stuffing you so full, still pressing you up, folding you. You’re sobbing now, overwhelmed, pussy so sore but she’s milking him more, even as he’s dripping down his cock and your ass, mixed with your glistening cum.

He’s exhaling now, easing your thighs down, kissing you deeply, over and over, you’re clinging to him, trembling legs so sore, still full of him. He leans up and takes a deep breath, looking at you with those endless blue eyes, eyes that you adore, that face you adore. You get choked up now, tears falling, tears that he gently wipes, like he wasn’t just pounding your cunt.

He’s looking at how beautiful you are under him, the girl he’s loved for as long as he’s even known, tears glittering pretty on your cheeks. “You’re pretty crying, y’know that?”

“Sadistic ass. That’s why you threw the snowballs.” He smiles down at you, so handsome your heart aches.

“You’re mine now. Mine forever.” His words should be crazy, but as you look at the little charm glittering in the night, cupping his face, his words aren’t crazy at all.

“I want to be yours forever. Satoru, I have for so long. I’ve been so scared when you leave…”

“You’re coming with me. Yeah? Basketball wife?” He says with a grin, and you nod then, through your tears, through your smile, a myriad of emotions.

When he’s cleaned you up, and it’s slowly falling snow outside, Satoru has you in his lap once more, his Santa hat on, as you sip cocoa. “Are there more stories I need to know about, Santa Toru?” You ask teasingly, lapping a little whipped cream from your steaming hot mug.

“There is the time I saw you in the girls locker room.”

You glare. “What now!?”

“On accident!”

“Oh this better be good.” You snatch his cocoa up with a scowl.

“Don’t take my cocoa baby, you’ll get on the naughty list.” He says with a glare, and you’re glaring right back.

“Oh, I’m so scared Santa!” He bends you over the chair now, slipping his hand up under the dress shirt of his you’re wearing, with nothing else. You gasp when his hand smacks your ass cheek, making you jolt, desire pooling in your tummy all over again, when he leans forward over you.

“Merry Christmas. It’s midnight.” He says, you peek at that watch, as he smacks your other ass cheek, and you’re moaning, head falling back. “Looks like you’re not gonna be able to sit for Christmas dinner.”

And that was the final time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings, and this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time <3

I hope you all enjoyed the cuteness and idiots in love, it was a request for a 5+1 that FLEW off the handle. Ty for readingggg

Gen Masterlist here

Geto’s 5+1 HERE

[loveanddeepthroat]

Baby Blues

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.

Word count - 2.7k

⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.

Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.

It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.

You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.

It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.

Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.

Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.

That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.

He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts. 

Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.

You just wished she would settle with both parents.

It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.

“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.

“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.

You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.

“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.��

You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”

Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.

You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.

Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.

He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.

He wanted to help.

The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.

You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”

“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”

“But—” 

“No buts.”

He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself. 

You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.

“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.

It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.

You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.

“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”

You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.

He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly. 

You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.

“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.

Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence. 

This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.

“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”

Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”

You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.” 

“Eat.”

The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”

He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.

Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.

Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.

“Knows what?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.

His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”

You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.

You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”

His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.

“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”

“Unsafe?” 

His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.

You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.

“Eat.”

Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.

You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.

Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.

After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”

You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.

Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?

“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”

The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.

Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.

“Don’t cry—”

“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.

The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.

He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”

He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.

“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.

Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.

“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.

And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.

Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.

“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”

He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.

Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.

A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️