#dividers © saradika

[wolvesland]

─── 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 ֪

→ Kim Sunwoo x Leitora

→ Palavras: 3k

→ Sinopse: E se você e Sunwoo fossem amigos íntimos? Próximos o suficiente para desfrutar de alguns benefícios extras.

Desde que esse acordo começou vocês dois acham que têm sido muito bons em não confundir essas linhas e manter os amigos e os benefícios estritamente separados. Afinal de contas, sexo é sexo e amizade é amizade.

Para manter o acordo agradável para todos vocês dois obviamente estabeleceram algumas... Regras? Alguns sim e não.

Por exemplo, não havia problema em conhecer outras pessoas, mas o acordo seria colocado em pausa indefinidamente por respeito pela outra parte. Mesmo que fossem apenas os "estágios iniciais".

Vocês também concordaram que se um dos dois desenvolvesse sentimentos por outra pessoa, vocês conversariam sobre isso. Ambos já tinham ouvido falar de relacionamentos que foram arruinados ou prejudicados pela falta de comunicação e ambos concordaram que preferiam saber sobre esses sentimentos do que ser mantido no escuro.

E, na maioria das vezes, funcionava. Tudo estava indo bem, muito bem. Nenhum de vocês pedia mais do que o esperado. E você achava que poderia se orgulhar disso, mas aparentemente não.

AVISOS: fluffy?, sugestivo, amigos com benefícios.

📌 masterlist

© all rights reserved by @onceuponabloom

© tradução (pt/br) by @wolvesland

Sunwoo e você tiveram sua cota justa de encontros e relacionamentos de curta duração, se é que se pode chamá-los assim. Estava tudo bem, estava indo muito bem. Pelo menos para você, tinha conhecido algumas pessoas legais, alguns parceiros potencialmente invejáveis. Mas você não saberia, pois assim que ficava entediada, Sunwoo era a primeira pessoa para quem você mandava mensagem. Quando seus parceiros diziam ou faziam alguma coisa, você se lembrava de Sunwoo, quando eles não faziam nada, você pensava no Sunwoo. Ele estava aqui, ali e em toda parte. Você sempre acabava nos braços dele.

Da mesma forma, ele poderia estar com os amigos e não deixaria de enviar mensagens para você, ele raramente deixava suas mensagens sem resposta. Na verdade, ele provavelmente a importunava com bastante frequência por não responder com rapidez suficiente. Ultimamente, ele não tem gostado muito de você explorando o campo, mas no momento em que você ligava para ele depois de cada encontro fracassado, dizendo-lhe para abrir a porta, as dúvidas dele deixavam de existir. Principalmente quando ele a colocava contra a porta, a janela, a bancada, em todo lugar. Perto o suficiente para inspirá-la e engoli-la inteira. Naquela época, definitivamente não havia reclamações.

Este, infelizmente, não é um desses momentos.

Imagine que você está sentada em um banco ridiculamente desconfortável esperando que o barman prepare sua bebida. Você não tem certeza de onde exatamente estão todos os outros, mas sabe que seus amigos estão espalhados pelo clube mal iluminado, possivelmente bêbados, mas estava tudo bem, eles estão bem. Você lança ao barman um sorriso gentil e pega sua bebida graciosamente antes de se virar para examinar a sala. Ao bebericar, seus olhos, sem querer, pousam em uma figura familiar cercada por corpos menos familiares. Claro, lá estava Sunwoo, com garotas penduradas em cada lado dele, uma delas estava até se inclinando sobre a mesa, desesperada para ficar mais perto. Você revira os olhos enquanto elas riem um pouco demais de qualquer bobagem que ele esteja dizendo.

"Controle-se, ele não é tão engraçado assim." – Antes que seus pensamentos possam se aprofundar, você é interrompida por um tom familiar de provocação.

— Hey, gostosa, você está sozinha?

— Cale a boca, Juyeon. – Você ri antes de perguntar. — Onde estão os outros?

— Essa é uma boa pergunta. Quando você tiver a resposta, me avise.

Você está rindo com Juyeon pelos próximos minutos e apenas olhando de relance para Sunwoo a cada 20 segundos, ou a cada 10. Quando, de repente.

— Na verdade, s.n, já que você está aqui, eu queria que você conhecesse alguém.

O tom astuto dele contém uma ponta de culpa que imediatamente lhe diz que não há como escapar, e como se fosse a deixa ele aparece.

— Este é o Minho.

Qualquer reserva que você tenha sobre conhecer esse rapaz pode, ou não desaparecer um pouco quando você o vê. Afinal de contas, ele é agradável aos olhos e quem é você para recusar um pouco de atrativo? Ele definitivamente não é bonito como Sunwoo, mas isso não importa. Ele tem um charme diferente, um que a deixa feliz por estar na companhia dele. Um que pode fazer com que sua calcinha caia até os tornozelos se ele jogar as cartas certas, um que, de alguma forma, faz com que você dê uma risadinha e se incline para ele neste exato momento. Mesmo sob o olhar intenso de Sunwoo da mesa.

Ele está irritado, para dizer o mínimo, com a visão que tem diante de si, mas ele não fica muito tempo sozinho em sua irritação, porque logo Juyeon, Eric e Hyunjae se juntam a ele, juntamente com algumas garotas que Sunwoo não pode dizer com segurança que reconhece.

— O que o deixou de mau humor? – Pergunta Eric, e caramba, era a coisa errada a se perguntar.

— Não estou de mau humor. – O tom de Sunwoo é frio e cheio de irritação. — Só preciso de uma bebida. – Acrescenta ele, tentando suavizar o tom e falhando miseravelmente.

Ele não deveria estar descontando no Eric. Não é ele que está flertando com você, não são os músculos dele que você está apalpando com verdadeiro espanto, não é a mão dele que você está segurando enquanto se dirige à mesma mesa em que Sunwoo e companhia estão sentados.

Ele está convencido de que tudo isso é intencional quando você faz contato visual direto com ele antes de se inclinar para sussurrar - pelo menos é o que Sunwoo espera que seja - no ouvido de Minho.

Logo você está sentada bem em frente a Sunwoo e o brinquedo dele para a noite, com seu corpo agarrado ao lado de Minho. Você apresenta Minho a todos os que estão sentados com você - exceto Juyeon, que obviamente já é amigo dele - e felizmente eles o recebem rapidamente. Todos, exceto Sunwoo, que poderia estar fazendo muito mais para ser um pouco mais cordial. Em vez disso, ele revira os olhos para tudo o que Minho diz, fazendo comentários sarcásticos em voz baixa, que a música felizmente abafa.

A atenção de Sunwoo logo é roubada pela loira que está em seu braço, pois ela pede que ele abra o botão superior de seu vestido, alegando que estava sentindo muito calor e que era muito difícil alcançá-lo.

Você tenta não se concentrar no modo como as mãos de Sunwoo demoram um pouco demais, ou na forma como os lábios dele pressionam a nuca dela, ou nos sons sujos que saem da boca dela, os quais você pode acrescentar, estão definitivamente sendo exagerados.

"Eu não me importo" - Você tenta se convencer.

Afinal, por que você deveria? Você raciocina consigo mesmo. Não há razão para que você não possa lidar com isso.

No entanto, parece que seus amigos pensam o contrário. Porque, de repente Eric grita.

— Arrumem um quarto!

— Bem em frente a uma senhora? Em público! Tenham um pouco de respeito! – Diz Kevin, agitando os braços para dar um efeito dramático.

— Que vergonha para sua honra! Que vergonha para o seu nome! – Eric finge desmaiar, e uma série de risadas e aplausos de bêbados soam ao redor da mesa.

No entanto, suas palavras têm pouco efeito sobre Sunwoo. E assim, com as palavras finais de Kevin.

— Não quero ver você manchar... Bem, nada, então tchau. – Todos saem, um após o outro.

Sunwoo e a loira - você acha que o nome dela é Krista? - são obrigados a se separar para deixá-los sair. E então eram quatro, você, Minho, Sunwoo e Krista? Que belo grupo de indivíduos. Há um momento de silêncio constrangedor, interrompido apenas quando Sunwoo pede mais bebidas para todos.

— Oh, vamos jogar um jogo! – Krista sugere muito animada.

Sunwoo e você estão prestes a rejeitar a ideia quando Minho concorda. E antes que percebam, vocês já estão jogando "Eu Nunca" com seis shots.

— Eu nunca... Hmm... Fiz uma tatuagem! – Esse é o shot número sete para você, mas não está sozinha, você sabe, sem olhar, que Sunwoo também está tomando um shot.

— Você tem uma tatuagem? Isso é tão sexy! – Você zomba do quão óbvia ela está sendo quando um par de lábios roça em sua orelha.

Sunwoo não consegue ouvir muito bem a conversa, especialmente com a loira em seu braço falando sobre a vez em que ela quase fez uma tatuagem, mas, por algum motivo, não fez. Observe que ele tem plena consciência de que, se realmente prestasse atenção, seria capaz de recitar os detalhes literalmente, já que se tratava de uma história simples. Mas como Sunwoo poderia se concentrar em qualquer coisa quando você está sentada em frente a ele, parecendo positivamente deliciosa, nos braços de outro homem? Só esse pensamento já é suficiente para enlouquecer um homem, então imagine como ele deve estar se sentindo insano por isso estar acontecendo com ele.

— Uma garota nunca revela tudo no primeiro encontro. – Sunwoo consegue ouvir e sente o punho cerrado quando Minho repete as palavras mais alto, aproximando-se de você também, como se estivesse provocando Sunwoo.

— Primeiro encontro?

— Sim. E as senhoritas certamente não revelarão muito mais antes disso também. – Seu tom é brincalhão enquanto dá um tapinha na bochecha de Minho antes de se afastar.

E Sunwoo sente todo o seu ser relaxar com a nova distância.

— Então, Minhyuk. Sem tatuagens? – Sunwoo sabe que está sendo infantil, mas não se importa.

Não quando seus olhos estão fixos nele. Você sabe que ele está testando a sua paciência, ele quer que você se irrite e ele sabe que você está ciente desse fato.

Felizmente para você, Minho é muito gentil para entreter Sunwoo nem um pouco.

— Não, mas não estou me opondo a fazer nada. Só não encontrei nada que valha a pena ser pintado.

Antes que Sunwoo possa responder, Krista entra em cena.

— Sunwoo, você tem tantas tatuagens. – A mão dela vai acariciando o peito dele enquanto ela continua. — Aposto que eu poderia encontrar todas elas, sem problemas.

Um pequeno zumbido é a única resposta de Sunwoo. Ela passa os dedos no cós da calça dele, e antes que alguém perceba os lábios dela estão beijando o rosto dele com vontade.

— Vamos lá, querido, você pode me dizer se estou perto.

Você sabe que não deveria ficar olhando, mas não consegue evitar. A medida que as mãos dela se abaixam e os lábios se elevam, cada vez mais perto da tatuagem que Sunwoo fez contigo, você aperta o maxilar com mais força. E antes que perceba você derrama sua bebida sobre ele.

— Que merda! – Ele grita.

Krista se afastou dele, surpresa com a reviravolta dos acontecimentos.

— Foi um acidente! – Você grita de volta. — Não seja idiota. – Sunwoo revira os olhos enquanto se levanta para se limpar.

— Eu vou ajudá-lo. – Você informa Minho e Krista e sai na direção em que ele foi antes que qualquer um dos dois possa questionar por que ele precisaria de sua ajuda.

— Sunwoo? – Você o chama por causa da música alta. — Sunwoo? Sun... Oh, porra!

Você exclama ao ser puxada para dentro do banheiro. Instintivamente, você se contorce e se debate, tentando escapar do aperto do seu raptor quando, de repente ele o solta.

— Mas que diabos... – Você começa, mas não consegue terminar.

Quentes, carnudos e suculentos. Você está muito familiarizado com os lábios que tomaram os seus como reféns.

Uma mão a aperta com força contra a porta do banheiro, enquanto a outra desliza para dentro do seu cabelo macio. Você tenta puxar a cabeça dele para mais perto de você, mas ele está o mais próximo possível, enquanto está enfiado em sua garganta e ainda assim não está perto o suficiente. Então, você puxa e repuxa e mordisca o lábio inferior dele. Você precisa de mais e quase acha que está prestes a conseguir exatamente isso, mas ao em vez disso Sunwoo pressiona os lábios com firmeza, e de repente você está choramingando contra os dele.

Ele se afasta e quando seus lábios seguem os dele, ele segura seu queixo com uma das mãos, apertando suas bochechas, a mantendo no lugar.

— Hmm, tão carente. – Ele diz. — Do que você precisa? Vá em frente, me diz.

Você poderia se derreter com a doçura da voz dele, mas então ele acrescenta.

— Querida. – E isso não deveria afetá-la tanto, mas o tom dele é tão baixo, tão frio, tão maldoso.

Estava zombando de você. Isso dá um nó no seu estômago, o calor se espalha em você, enquanto sua calcinha encharca. Você quer dizer "você", na verdade, você quer gritar com ele antes de implorar para que ele a foda tão bem e com tanta força, mas ao em vez disso você solta um pequeno guincho e a risada de Sunwoo é sarcástica.

— O quê? Nada a dizer? Você tinha muito a dizer para o seu brinquedinho lá fora! O que foi aquilo, hmm? Quer que eu o traga aqui? Talvez isso faça seu cérebro funcionar.

Normalmente, você o atacaria naquele momento, mas não esta noite, pois algo se rompe quando ele fala de Minho e tudo o que você quer fazer agora é discutir. Não é possível que ele fique bravo com você quando ele estava a dois segundos de, no mínimo, uma punheta pública.

— É mesmo? E quanto a você e a senhorita barbie ali. Kristen? Krista? Seja qual for o nome dela. Você não estava perdendo um segundo com ela agora a pouco, estava? – Você não se dá conta de como sua voz ficou alta até que Sunwoo iguala seu volume.

— Não seja arrogante comigo quando você estava praticamente enfiado a bunda no Marco! E quem diabos é Krista? O nome dela é Kayla!

— É Minho! – Você grita em frustração, empurrando Sunwoo de cima de você. — Mas você está ocupado demais sendo um idiota para se importar.

Você passa a mão no cabelo, andando de um lado para o outro do banheiro, o que não é muito longe, considerando o espaço minúsculo. Sua garganta está começando a ficar seca e irritada por causa de toda aquela gritaria.

— Pelo amor de deus, Sunwoo. – Sua voz ficou mais suave, um pouco rouca. — Por que eu gosto de você? Mesmo agora, quando você está sendo tão idiota.

Lágrimas se acumulam nos seus olhos e você tenta enxugá-las antes que caiam.

— Eu não posso fazer isso. – Você sussurra enquanto passa por Sunwoo para ir embora.

Você gosta dele? Claro que gosta. Como não percebeu antes? Você poderia ter evitado tudo isso, que bagunça você fez.

Sunwoo estava atordoado. Você está gostando dele?

Você gosta dele!

E agora você acabou de sair, quase chorando por causa dele.

Caramba.

Sunwoo sai correndo pela porta, procurando por você na boate, ele localiza sua silhueta, indo em direção à saída. Ele corre, corre até você. Ele consegue alcançá-la, te agarra pelo braço pela segunda vez naquela noite, puxando-a para o corpo dele antes que você possa resistir, te envolvendo nos braços dele em torno de você com tanta força.

— Meu Deus, s.n, você não sabe? Você não pode simplesmente dizer a um cara que gosta dele e ir embora. – Ele se afasta um pouco para inclinar seu rosto para o dele. — Especialmente não antes dele dizer o quanto está apaixonado por você.

— Sunwoo, não estou a fim de ouvir suas piadas. – Você resmunga, tentando não desmoronar.

— Eu juro. Não estou brincando. – Ele se apressa. — Sei que fui um completo idiota esta noite, mas não aguentei ver você com aquele cara! Não quando você ainda não era minha. Eu não suportava a ideia de você escolher ele em vez de mim, mesmo que fosse só por um momento. Eu sinto muito.

O modo como ele acaricia sua bochecha com tanta delicadeza que parece uma pluma. Você provavelmente nem perceberia se ele não irradiasse tanto calor. O polegar dele passa sobre uma lágrima que consegue escapar, e você jura que o toque dele queima.

— Eu me apaixonei por você, s.n. – A voz dele é firme e ao mesmo tempo tão vulnerável.

Basta olhar em seus olhos para saber que é verdade, ele está apaixonado, ou algo muito próximo disso.

E assim, você admite.

— Ainda bem que eu também estou apaixonada. Caso contrário, isso seria muito estranho. – Você ri entre lágrimas.

Sunwoo te abraça com tanta força que sua risada é sufocada pelo alívio.

Não importa como você chegou lá, mas lá estava você no banheiro dele.

Você seca o cabelo com a toalha e se lembra das confissões anteriores. De repente, está sorrindo para o seu reflexo como uma adolescente apaixonada, você ainda não consegue acreditar que ele gosta de você.

Quando você chega em Sunwoo, ele está sentado no sofá, com o cabelo pingando do banho que tomou mais cedo.

— Achei que tinha dito para você secar o cabelo direito. – Você repreende pegando a toalha no ombro dele e secando o cabelo.

— Você disse, mas eu prefiro que você faça isso. – Você não consegue ver o rosto dele direito, mas sabe que ele está orgulhoso de si mesmo.

Suspirando em sinal de irritação você se dedica a pentear o cabelo dele, ouvindo suas divagações sobre o novo jogo que ele comprou e como ele acha que Eric tem uma queda por seu amigo.

Tudo isso parece tão familiar.

E você não consegue evitar, pois sua mente vagueia por todas as sessões de estudo estressantes que você teve e que acabaram se transformando em uma sessão de fofoca. Todas as noites de jogos que resultaram em discussões e só puderam ser resolvidas com um sorvete às 3 da manhã.

Seu dedo passa suavemente sobre a pequena tatuagem atrás da orelha esquerda dele, sem se importar com o fato de que a respiração dele se contrai levemente ao seu toque.

— Sunwoo. – Sua voz é distante, suave e carinhosa.

— Hmm?

— Lembra o que eu disse a você quando fizemos essas tatuagens?

— Como eu poderia esquecer? – Ele ri. — Se você fizer a mesma tatuagem que eu, vou dizer a todos que você quer se casar comigo. – Fala te imitando. — E no dia seguinte, você fez exatamente isso e estamos noivos desde então.

— Bem, você me copiou. A justiça tinha que ser feita! – Você exclama.

— Como eu poderia saber o que você estava fazendo? Você nem sequer me disse!

— Apenas diga que está obcecado por mim e vá embora! – Você esbraveja contra a atitude defensiva dele.

Com isso, Sunwoo imediatamente puxa você para o sofá e para o colo dele. Ele se inclina para perto de seus lábios.

— Estou obcecado por você. – Ele murmura antes de envolvê-la em um beijo profundo.

Gemidos suaves escapam de seus lábios e a língua dele explora sua boca e as mãos dele deslizam por baixo da bainha da camisa, que ele te emprestou, para traçar padrões leves em sua cintura.

Você afasta os lábios dos dele para deixar marcas ao longo do pescoço e da mandíbula, ao chegar no espaço atrás da orelha dele você mordisca gentilmente o lóbulo antes de avisar, sedutora.

— Só eu posso beijar você aqui. – E pressiona um beijo na tatuagem dele. — E aqui.

Você traça a tatuagem da costela dele através da camisa.

— E em qualquer outro lugar onde você possa tê-las. – Você se inclina de volta para os lábios dele, deixando propositalmente um espaço. — Está bem? Ninguém mais vai fazer isso. Nem Krista, nem Kayla, nem ninguém.

Você pergunta, certificando-se de passar seus lábios sobre os dele.

Sunwoo está tão fascinado por você, tão excitado pela sua súbita possessividade, que o cérebro dele esquece momentaneamente como funciona. Mas, quando você começa a se afastar, ele a puxa de volta e se embaralha dizendo.

— Sim, tudo bem. De agora em diante, ninguém além de você vai beijar as minhas tatuagens. – Então ele acrescenta. — Nossas tatuagens. Agora, querida, deixe-me fazer você se sentir bem.

E ele fez.

E em meio à adrenalina você se sente grata pelo fato da confissão não ter mudado nada entre vocês.

[pastelbiu]

"The rose that grew from concrete"

[sugarwarachan]

(･ω･)つ andy's notes: megumi fushiguro when you have a bf he hates. cws: all characters 20+, mild smut, afab!reader, mdni

bsf!megumi who's never once admitted to his years-long crush on you, no matter how many times yuuji and nobara tease him over it.

bsf!megumi who might have convinced himself that he's perfectly content loving you from a distance, but every night he dreams of you in his arms.

bsf!megumi who can normally hold his composure suddenly having to excuse himself from the room whenever you hang out to address the raging cockstand in his pants.

bsf!megumi whose stomach sinks when you start dating someone.

bsf!megumi who hates your scummy boyfriend so much that he actually starts to hate you. why don't you understand that you deserve better? how are you so blinded by pretty words?

bsf!megumi who knows he won't be able to stop himself from saying something so he just avoids you altogether.

bsf!megumi who gets cornered into confronting you by nobara (she grew bored of the moping). he does his best not to notice how beautiful you look, but it's the first thing his eyes take in. he's missed you so much it's like a sucker punch to the gut.

bsf!megumi who does his best not to grin like an idiot when you tell him you dumped that loser. "about time you kicked him to the curb," he says, eyes fixed on the gentle pout of your lips. you roll your eyes at his response, and he knows he's been an immature asshole for avoiding you, but now that he's confronted by the reality of confessing his feelings, he's scared shitless.

bsf!megumi who thinks it should be so simple to say "I've loved you for years," but the words feel inadequate compared to the space you consume in his heart.

bsf!megumi who can't help but laugh when you say, "I come all this way to tell you I left that guy and you won't even make a move?"

bsf!megumi who groans against your mouth when he kisses you, cupping your jaw with one hand and running the other in between your shoulder blades. his mind fuzzes out when your tongues clash, the kiss devolving into a mess of teeth and spit as he wrestles you closer to him

bsf!megumi who loves how responsive you are. "he ever make you feel this good?" he asks as he licks a filthy stripe down your neck, biting at your collarbone and roughly squeezing your tit through your shirt. "didn't touch you as well as your best friend does, huh?"

bsf!megumi who mixes rough and sweet so well, bullying his cock into your quivering hole with rocking strokes before sliding all the way in. "fuck, rolling your eyes back in your head already, baby? i haven't even gotten started." (like father like son)

bsf!megumi who is a fucking menace determined to make you cum as many times as possible to make up for lost time.

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. divider by @saradika-graphics

[moonchild9350]

Perfect Copy

summary: Hyunjin brings home a clone of himself, one to take over his daily life at work and home when he's gone for the tour. Everything seems to be great....that is until it's not.

pairing: idol!Hyunjin x fab!reader x clone!Hyunjin

genre: established relationship, sci fi au, angst, fluff, smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 9k

warnings: fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't), creampie, squirting, multiple rounds and other things I don’t want to spoil!

notes: this fic is one of my favorites that i wrote! I'm thinking of making it an anthology series with three chapters per se. Let me know if you'd like to see it as so! And as always let me know what you think of this fic!

If you enjoyed, please comment, like, and reblog ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, edit, report, or use this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Masterlist | Perfect Love

You were pacing the floor of your room, your hands behind your back as your mind raced. The phrase “what should I do,” repeated over and over, so much so it was all you could hear.

The house was empty, the silence loud and clear as your feet touched the padded floor. The sun was shining through your window, the sound of a dog barking in the distance and children playing at the park across the street. The atmosphere outside was completely different from the one inside.

Not too long ago, you got off the phone with Hyunjin, your boyfriend, after he shared some disturbing information that would change the dynamic of the household forever…or at least the foreseeable future. He was bringing his clone home to join the household at the company’s request.

You were too stunned to speak as he explained each band member was required to have one, the company going as far as to add an addendum into their contracts stating so.

When you asked why, Hyunjin just explained that the clone would be here when he’s gone on tour, ready to continue operations at the company as scheduled, saving time and money for the company.

What could you do?

The decision was already made and Hyunjin and his clone were on their way here, to the home you both shared.

It’s not like you’ve never heard of an idol having a clone to help out with their career, matter of fact it was more common than people thought. The appeal was there, as a clone would be able to attend events and carry on with the idol’s daily life as if it were nothing, allowing the idol to simultaneously complete other tasks that were needed of them.

The world had mixed reactions about the idea, some in favor of the thought, allowing idols to not be overworked, while others found the idea not so appealing. You yourself was somewhere in the middle, understanding why an idol would want the extra help as you were dating one yourself but also found the idea of a clone of Hyunjin walking around eerie.

You continued to pace the floor, back and forth, back and forth, until you heard the door open and close. You could hear Hyunjin speaking with someone, his voice carrying through the small apartment.

Taking a breath, you braced yourself and walked into the hallway, coming face to face with Hyunjin and well…Hyunjin.

“Hey babe!” Hyunjin said, coming up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You shuffled behind Hyunjin a little as he turned to face his clone. “Well here he is! Or I guess here I am?” He said with a chuckle.

The clone raised his hand as if to say hi before placing it at his side again, his eyes fixed right on you. You lowered your gaze not sure where to look as he continued to stare at you.

“Well let’s all go sit down and chat,” Hyunjin said, breaking the awkward silence that briefly filled the room.

You followed him to the couch, sitting down next to him as his clone took the seat opposite both of you. The clone sat up straight in his seat, his hands placed delicately in his lap as he waited for Hyunjin to speak.

You took a moment to take the new member of the household in, observing his looks to see if he resembles Hyunjin at all and you must admit, he could pass off as your boyfriend. His hair was long and brown, sitting perfectly at his shoulders, his eyes a beautiful chocolate brown. He even had the little freckle underneath his left eye, the pretty beauty mark very much present and distinctive.

The only difference was his unblemished skin, new and perfect just like a brand new baby. His movements were stiff and uncertain, as if they hadn’t been used in a while, which they probably hadn’t.

Hyunjin’s clone looked around, his eyes drifting across the living room, taking in his new surroundings. You were so caught up in observing the clone that you were startled as Hyunjin clapped his hands next to you.

“Well welcome me! Thats weird to say,” Hyunjin chuckled as he slapped his thigh.

You and the clone just stared at him, unsure of what to say or do.

Hyunjin coughed before settling back in his seat, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“Okay…tough crowd. My clone will be living here from now on. He’ll be in and out of the house to go to the company and fill in for me while I’m gone, and he’ll be here for you if you need anything.”

Hyunjin’s clone then smiled, his dimples showing just like on your Hyunjin. His smile, his mannerisms was so much like your boyfriend’s it was unnerving. It was becoming too much for you.

“I’m sorry, I need a moment,” you mumbled as you got up, retreating to the safety of your bedroom.

You went and sat on the bed, your head down in your hands as Hyunjin walked in.

“Baby?” Hyunjin asked as he came to kneel in front of you. He gently began rubbing your legs attempting to soothe you.

You looked up and say the concern in your boyfriend’s face. Softening your features you said, “I’m just….overwhelmed. He’s just like you, it’s eerie.”

Hyunjin nodded agreeing with you. It was eerie, he’s not going to lie. It was a weird feeling seeing himself standing there. He needed you to be okay though and comfortable with the clone while he’s away.

“It’s okay, I just have to get used to him being here is all,” you continued attempting to smile.

“Okay baby, you’ll tell me if you change your mind?” Hyunjin asked as he held your gaze.

You shook your head yes and placed your hands on top of his. Hyunjin smiled and got up, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips. You sighed as his plush lips melted with yours, as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

All too soon, Hyunjin pulled back and grinned. “Let’s go back yeah?”

You nodded and stood up, reaching out to take Hyunjin’s hand in yours. He interlaced his fingers with yours, the softness and warm feeling causing you to feel at ease and led the way back to the living room. The clone was sitting in the same spot still, his head turning toward you both as you entered the room. His eyes drifted to your intertwined hands for a moment before looking back up, his cheeks reddening.

Hyunjin dropped your hand and sat down, turning the tv on in the process. You didn’t know what to do as you rocked back and forth on your feet, your eyes darting anywhere but on Hyunjin’s clone.

“I’ll just…go to the kitchen,” you mumbled as you turned on your heels, making your way to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, you looked around wondering what to do next. You took a look at the clock and noticed it was almost dinner time. 'Might as well cook dinner,’ you thought as you grabbed the ingredients you needed to make lasagna.

You could hear the voices from the tv and Hyunjin and his clone discussing something, but the sound of pots and pans clanging together overpowered them both. It was easy to fall into the safe and familiar routine of making the sauce, placing the noodles down followed by more sauce and cheese.

Carefully, you created a dish worth devouring, smiling as you added the finishing touches before sliding it into the oven. You then went about chopping up lettuce and other veggies, deciding to make a salad for the side.

You were tossing the vegetables together when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. With a yelp, you dropped the tongs you were holding before spinning around to see who it was.

“Easy baby!” Hyunjin said as he held you close, a mixture of concern and pure amusement on his face.

“You scared me!” You exclaimed as you clutched your chest with one hand and lightly slapped his arm with the other.

“I’m sorry,” he pouted, giving you the sweetest puppy dog eyes. “Kiss?”

You sighed and smiled while pressing your lips to his. Hyunjin pulled you closer, his hands drifting down your sides to rest on your ass. He deepened the kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth to tangle with yours. You let out a moan deep within your throat as he rutted his semi-hardened bulge into your core, his length pressed against you nicely, as a little reminder of what you do to him.

Hyunjin then nipped at your lips and leaned back and gazed at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“We’ll finish this later mm?” Hyunjin said before turning around and walking away.

You stood there stunned, your mind trying to catch up to what you were doing before. The smell of something burning caught your attention and you quickly grabbed an oven mitt to pull the lasagna out to cool. You hurried to set the table, placing the food in the center and called the boys to come eat.

Dinner was a strange affair as you were sitting across from the clone. You stole hurried glances at him while he scarfed down his food, not caring if it was hot enough to burn his tongue. Once he cleaned his plate, he sat back and smiled, seeming completely satiated.

“That was amazing y/n,” the clone said, pushing his plate away.

“Uhh, thanks,” you murmured as you pushed your food around, as you were starting to feel full.

“She’s a great cook huh?” Hyunjin bragged with a cocky grin. “That’s my girl.”

You chuckled and playfully hit Hyunjin on the shoulder, rolling your eyes as he dramatically clutched his arm. As you were teasing him for his theatrics, you missed how the clone eyed you, watching your every move and how you interacted with the real Hyunjin.

“Oh!” Hyunjin exclaimed, recovering from the show he was putting on, “What do we call you while I’m here? Might be a little confusing if we just say Hyunjin.”

All three of you were silent for a moment as you racked your brains for a nickname to call the clone to avoid confusion within the house. After a moment more, an idea popped into your head.

“What about Jinnie?” You suggested, looking from the clone to Hyunjin.

The clone looked at you for a moment as if he was pondering your choice, his facial expression unreadable. Hyunjin was silent as he waited for the clone’s response.

“I love it!” The clone responded, a wide grin spreading on his perfect face.

“Perfect! We’ll call you Jinnie then,” Hyunjin said while grasping your hand in his to give it a squeeze.

The rest of the evening passed without event, all three of you spending it in front of the tv, watching a movie that Hyunjin had heard was really good from Felix. As the movie went on, you began to feel tired, your eyes drooping and body feeling heavy as you leaned onto Hyunjin. You closed your eyes briefly, telling yourself you’d just take a little cat nap while the ending played on the screen.

However, you were jolted awake by Hyunjin, who was gently shaking your shoulder and calling your name. You quickly sat up, shocked you had actually fallen asleep.

“Let’s go sleepy head,” Hyunjin teased as he pulled you up from the couch. “I already showed Jinnie his room.”

You nodded and followed your boyfriend, slipping into your shared bedroom to get ready for bed. As you got ready for bed, going through the motions of getting into your sleep shirt, brushing your teeth and doing your skin care, Hyunjin prepped the bed pushing your stuffies aside and making sure all of your blankets were at the ready.

Hyunjin slid into bed, patting the space next to him. You giggled and padded over, snuggling under the blankets with your boyfriend. He pulled you close and pressed sloppy kisses to your face, causing you to giggle.

The kisses increased until his lips slotted with yours, soft and sweet, until he pressed his hard on into your thigh and bit your lip between his teeth.

“Need you love,” he whispered in between kisses.

His hands slide down your side, tracing the curves of your hips until he cupped your sex. You let out a soft moan as he slid a finger through your panties, pushing it between your folds soaking the fabric.

“Let me hear you love,” he cooed as he stared at your face, taking in how he was making you feel.

Hyunjin slid your panties to the side and pressed his finger directly against your clit before swirling fast but precise circles against the puffy bud. You whimpered against his lips as shocks of pleasure traveled through your core, your hips moving in time with his movements.

“That’s it love, eyes on me,” he said as his fingers sneaked down to your hole and sliding in within your warmth.

He curled his fingers up and rubbed the little gummy spot that makes your toes curl, your fingers digging into his biceps as he fucked you. You kept your eyes on his, feeling your high build up within you with each passing second.

Hyunjin could tell you were going to come, as he fucked you with his fingers, the palm of his hand giving your clit extra stimulation. His cock twitched within his sweats as you panted and moaned, whimpering his name over and over.

“Hyunjin, fuck! Gonna come!” You squealed as you felt the muscles tighten in your core before letting go, the walls contracting around his fingers as you let out a moan.

“Yes, that’s it love. Such a good girl coming on my fingers,” Hyunjin praised, smirking at the squeal you let out.

He withdrew his fingers and hurriedly pushed his sweats down, his cock finally free and dripping with precum. Hyunjin bunched your shirt up, exposing your lower half to him and spread your legs wider so he could fit more easily between them.

You watched him with a hooded gaze as he lazily stroked his cock, spreading the precum around his length.

“Ready for my cock love?” Hyunjin asked as he teased your clit with his tip, waiting for your response.

“Give me your cock baby,” you begged.

“Fuck!” Hyunjin groaned as he pushed in, his cock sliding in with ease with how wet you were.

He immediately set a fast pace, focused on getting you both to your highs. He was a sight to see above you, his eyes set in a fucked out expression as he bit his plush lips over and over. Beads of sweat pooled on his temple, the droplets making their way onto your belly as they fell away.

You let out a loud moan, so loud that you’re sure Jinnie heard in the guest room. You couldn’t bring yourself to care however, as you focused on how your lovers cock felt deep within you, fucking you just how you like it, until your orgasm built once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. -- -- Jinnie was on his way back to his room after washing up when he heard your moans, high pitched and shrill and mixed with deeper, lower ones. He stopped in front of the door to your bedroom which was slightly cracked allowing him to hear and see the activities that were occurring more easily.

He should walk away and ignore you both, but how could he when you sounded so sweet. Jinnie felt his cock swell in his pants, the tent becoming very noticeable. Ignoring the discomfort he felt down below, he focused his eye on the crack of the door and watched. Watched as his double fucked you within an inch of your life. Listened as you moaned and screamed Hyunjin’s name…his name.

He could see your face, how your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your tongue lolling out as you withered around in pleasure. He could see your toes curl as your legs wrapped around Hyunjin’s waist pulling him closer and deeper. He could hear your wet pussy, the squelches it made as Hyunjin’s cock speared you open.

Jinnie was in awe of you. He found himself wanting to be the one fucking you, causing you to orgasm over and over underneath him. He wanted to be the one to hold you tight at night as you slumbered. He wanted to be the one that loves you.

As you came with a loud yell, he decided he would have you, so you could call him yours and vice versa.

As the weeks passed, all three of you settled into your new routines. Hyunjin and Jinnie would go off to the studio, their schedules busy with rehearsals and recordings for the new album and tour. You stayed home most days, working on your sketches for the fashion show that was coming up as you were a fashion designer. Occasionally you would go into the office for meetings.

The boys usually got home exhausted but energetic, yapping about their day nonstop. You watched in amazement as both of them animatedly reenacted some scene Minho and Jisung had recreated. You couldn’t help but think that they were so similar, the way their brains processed what to say or do next, to the way they moved, almost as if they were in sync.

“And scene!” Hyunjin shouted as he took a bow while Jinnie clapped in delight.

“I have no clue what just happened,” you teased, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What?!” Hyunjin whined, a pout forming on his face.

“We were reenacting the scene from that new action movie that just came out. Minho and Jisung were adamant that we learn the moves and lines,” Jinnie explained with an apologetic look on his face.

“Ah makes sense,” you chuckled.

Hyunjin collapsed on the floor and grabbed his water bottle to take a swig. You sat next to Jinnie, feeling slightly more comfortable with him, but still a little on edge. Hyunjin would be leaving soon to embark on the group’s five month long tour, leaving you here with Jinnie. Anytime he mentioned how close the date was, you would freak out, voicing your concerns at being alone with practically a stranger.

However, Hyunjin would dismiss your concerns saying Jinnie isn’t a stranger, it’s basically him. He’d always reassure you that if he didn’t need the clone, he would not have it. Simple as that. But the company wanted the members to use the clones so they can progress in their careers, so there was nothing he could really do.

You understood, knowing his hands were tied, so you put up with Jinnie and tried to get not let his similarities to Hyunjin get to you.

“Should we have one last game night before I have to leave?” Hyunjin suggested. “We can order take out and everything.”

You and Jinnie both agreed and began picking out a game while Hyunjin ordered the food. It wasn’t long before you three were settled on the floor, board game set up with food all around you. The night passed with friendly banter, making you feel even more at ease with the clone.

“Don’t forget my favorite sweatshirts!” Hyunjin called out to you from the bathroom as you rummaged through the drawers.

You were helping Hyunjin pack as he was leaving for the tour the next day. You spotted the sweatshirts he mentioned and groaned, realizing that his favorite sweatshirts were also your favorites and that you wouldn’t have anything to wear for comfort while he was gone.

“Can you leave one here with me please? I need to have something of yours while you’re gone.”

Hyunjin poked his head from the bathroom. “I suppose. Pick whichever one you want.”

You smiled and began to shift through the fabric, deciding on his black hoodie. You gathered the others and carefully folded them before placing them in his suitcase. You gathered his shirts, pants, socks, and boxers, ensuring he had everything he would need while gone. Satisfied with your work you announced to your boyfriend that you were done packing.

Hyunjin came out of the bathroom, carrying his toiletries with a smile. “Thanks love.”

“Of course, anything for my lover,” you cooed. “You have everything you need.”

“Everything?” Hyunjin asked as he set down his bag in the suitcase.

You cocked your head at him, wandering what he was talking about. You slowly backed away as he stalked toward you, a smirk on his face. As your back hit the wall, Hyunjin approached you.

“I won’t have you,” he murmured as he cupped your chin.

You held your breath as he gently pressed his lips to yours, savoring the slow moment. You were going to miss this, miss him. As you clutched onto his shirt, Hyunjin deepened the kiss as he pressed his body closer to yours until there was barely any space left between you two.

You let out a whimper as he disconnected from you, his eyes on your swollen, red lips.

“Can I have my girl tonight?” He softly said, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

You nodded your head as you gazed into his eyes, your pussy clenching over nothing at the implications of his words. Hyunjin smiled and then guided you to the bed. He helped you get comfortable before peeling off your clothes, layer by layer until you lay bare for him.

Parting your legs, Hyunjin settled between them, his eyes on your wet pussy. “Let me take care of you baby,” Hyunjin cooed as he leaned down to get comfortable.

He licked up your folds collecting your slick that was there coating your skin. You let out a low moan as he repeated the action again and again until he dived in, his lips wrapping around your clit in earnest. He began to suck gently, rolling your bundle of nerves on his tongue every now and then, causing you to mewl out.

You gripped his hair, holding him to your pussy as he ate you out, his tongue lapping at clit before pushing into your hole to lick at your walls. You couldn’t help but buck your hips into his mouth as he moaned, the vibrations traveling into your core. You watched your lover as he licked and sucked before leaning back, resting his head on your thigh as he placed lazy kisses on the flesh.

Minutes turned to hours as he edged you, playing with your pussy just the way he likes until you were whimpering and begging for him to let you cum. As he looked up at you during a break, he gently stroked your outer thigh, gazing at you with love in his eyes.

“My sweet girl ready to cum?” He asked, his eyebrows raising as he waited for your answer.

“Yes, yes, please let me cum,” you whined.

Hyunjin smirked before turning back to your pussy, eyeing the flesh. You were soaked, your slick coating every inch of your pussy, your thighs, and the sheets below. He parted your folds carefully, exposing your engorged clit. God he loved when he had you like this, needy and begging, your pussy waiting to be devoured so you could come on his face.

He wasted no time wrapping his mouth around your clit, this time sucking hard and fast. You were a mess as pleasure spread throughout your core. Hyunjin searched for your hands and once he found them he interlaced his fingers with yours as he continued to suckle your clit.

You squeezed his hands as you rocked your hips, riding his face as your high built up within. You whispered a litany of Hyunjin’s name, pleading for him not to stop with Hyunjin humming at your demands, as he pressed his face further into your folds.

With a particular suck and roll of your clit against his tongue, your orgasm hit hard and you let out a loud moan as Hyunjin continued to suck to help you ride out your high. Once satisfied, he leaned back and licked his lips, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. He took you in as you breathed heavy and laid in the mess you made, completely fucked out.

You were in and out of sleep as Hyunjin carefully cleaned you up before he cuddled next to you holding you tight in his arms. You felt at ease as you snuggled in closer to him, listening to the sound of his heart beat. And as you drifted off to sleep, you dreamed that he didn’t have to go on his tour, that he would stay here with you. But of course, that was only a dream which this time would not come true.

“Have a safe flight baby,” you said with tears in your eyes as you straightened out Hyunjin’s scarf.

The day of the members departure was here. Most of the boys were already outside gathering their luggage, but Hyunjin stayed behind in the van to say goodbye to you.

“Aww don’t cry love. I’ll be back before you know it! And we’ll talk on the phone every night.” Hyunjin said as he wiped your tears away.

“You better,” you mumbled with a pout on your face causing Hyunjin to chuckle.

“Now give me a kiss!” Hyunjin demanded.

He pulled you close and slotted his lips with yours, pressing sweet kisses again and again. You clutched onto his sweatshirt, holding tight as he deepened the kiss, a small moan leaving his lips as his tongue tangled with yours. You both were lost in each other, neither wanting to let go, but time had other plans. There was a sharp rap on the window which startled you both causing you to jump away from each other.

“Well I guess I should go,” Hyunjin murmured as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice laced with sadness.

Hyunjin gathered his bags and opened the door to climb out to a sea of fans and flashing lights. He spared you one more glance, giving you a small smile before stepping next to the others. You watched him as the van drove away, away from your lover.

You weren’t sure what to expect over the next five months, but you hoped it would go by quickly.

When you arrived home, you walked into an empty house as Jinnie was back at the building recording songs for the next album. You took the opportunity to get some work done yourself. You grabbed your sketchbook and some snacks and made yourself cozy on the couch. You began to sketch, finishing up some designs on some dresses.

Time passed as you worked, you getting lost in the vision that was being translated on paper that you didn’t hear the door open as Jinnie came home. He was so quiet that you were startled when he sat next to you to peer over your shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” Jinnie asked, curiosity in his eyes.

“Oh my god!” You screeched as you clutched at your chest. “You scared me!”

Jinnie’s face changed from curiosity to something sadder, his eyes downcast as he fumbled with his fingers. He didn’t mean to scare you, he just wanted to see what you were working on, wanting to be there for you since Hyunjin was gone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jinnie said, giving you puppy dog eyes as if he was begging for attention.

You regarded the man next to you. He was dressed in grey sweats and a white t-shirt with his hair in a half up, half down hairstyle…just how Hyunjin was dressed for his travels. Did Jinnie dress like Hyunjin on purpose? You’re not sure but it was weird.

“It’s okay,” you said as you closed your sketchbook. You were definitely not getting anymore work done tonight.

You both sat in silence, unsure of what to say or do…that is until your stomach growled. Jinnie perked up, a grin on his face.

“Wanna order take out?” He inquired, cocking his head to the side.

“Um, sure,” you murmured. “While you order I’m going to go take a shower.”

Jinnie nodded and pulled out his phone, pulling up the delivery app to browse options.

You began to walk to your bedroom before remembering that he doesn’t know what to order you. Turning around you said, “Oh you can order me…”

But you were cut off, Jinnie picking up his head to look at you. “I know what you like.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. He knew what you liked? How was that possible? Hyunjin always did the ordering. Did Hyunjin discuss with Jinnie your likes and dislikes? You looked up to see Jinnie staring at you, with a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. It was slightly unsettling as he didn’t blink, but sat frozen with his eyes trained on you.

“Oh…okay then,” you said before booking it to your bedroom.

Once on the other side of the door, you let out a breath of relief. That was a little weird you must admit and the way he stared at you, like he knew something you didn’t. As your heart rate settled, you padded across the room, gathering the things you needed for your shower.

You turned the water on and stripped your clothes off before getting under the warm stream of water. You emptied your mind, the thoughts of what just occurred leaving your mind and draining with the water that ran down your body. Once your mind was clear, you were able to fully enjoy your shower, the scent of your honey and green tea body wash relaxing you.

You stayed under the stream until the water ran cold. You quickly got out wanting to put on something warm, plus your stomach was rumbling so loud you’re sure the neighbors could hear it. You put on your favorite pjs and passed Hyunjin’s sweatshirt over your head, taking in his scent.

Satisfied and refreshed, you returned to the living room to the smell of comfort food. You walked a little faster, ready to dig into whatever Jinnie ordered. As you entered, Jinnie looked up with a smile and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Here you go, all plated up and ready for you to eat!” He exclaimed as he set down a plate of food.

You were taken aback, not used to having your plate made, but accepted it nonetheless. As you scooped the first bite of Mac and cheese into your mouth, you let out a moan, savoring the cheese on your tastebuds. This was just what you needed after a day like today.

You both ate in silence, watching the show that Jinnie picked before you came in. He doted on you every second of dinner, making sure you had enough food and drink. If you needed something, he got it for you, not wanting you to get up. Things were okay until he reached out to wipe a string of cheese off your chin, his gaze on you.

It felt oddly intimate, the man who looked just like your boyfriend cleaning your face. You were conflicted, not sure if you should accept the help or push him away. However, before you could decide, he pulled back before sticking the finger he just cleaned your face with in his mouth. You stared in shock as he sucked on the digit, licking the food residue clean.

As he removed his finger with a pop, he chuckled and turned to look back at the tv like nothing happened. You were still frozen in place, your mind trying to catch up to what Jinnie just did. Maybe it was time to retire for the night, before anything else occured.

You thanked Jinnie for the food and excused yourself to lock yourself in your bedroom. Is this what things would be like with Hyunjin gone? You were a mix of emotions, the feeling of confusion, fear, and a little excitement stirring deep within. You began to get ready for bed, wanting to be within the safety and comfort of your blankets. — — Jinnie wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He knew you would be sad that Hyunjin was gone but he found that an obstacle he could easily remedy. After all he was here. He is Hyunjin, whether you realized it or not. He has Hyunjin’s looks, his mannerisms, characteristics, he is the perfect copy of the man you called your boyfriend.

He began to clean up the mess from dinner, a smile on his face at how it went. He could tell you were impressed as he made sure you had everything you needed. Even though it was only the first day, things were going smoothly, and if he had anything to say about it, he would continue to make sure it remained so.

As the weeks passed, you became used to Jinnie, how he took care of you, gave you company after he was done with work. You weren’t lonely, which you were thankful for. You finished your sketches for work and had delivered them to the team, the next phase of the project fully underway. You spoke with Hyunjin every night, discussing your day and listening to him talk about his performances.

You missed him dearly, expressing so on the phone every night. Your heart swelled as you listened to Hyunjin profess his love to you, promising to come back very soon. Listening to his voice calmed you, making you feel more at ease with the time remaining that he would be gone. Every time Hyunjin ended the call, he’d always remind you to let Jinnie care for you in any way you needed, making you promise that you’d do so.

After speaking with Hyunjin one night, you laid in bed wide awake, your mind on your boyfriend instead of sleep. You needed him, wanted to feel him, touch him as it’s been so long. With a sigh, you began to drift your hands over your body, lightly brushing them over your breasts, circling your nipples causing you to become wet.

You slowly drifted your hands down, slipping it within your panties to touch your aching core. You began to circle your clit, letting out a mewl at the pleasure that your fingers brought you. Your mind drifted to Hyunjin, thinking of how he would touch you, soft and gentle at first before speeding up, bringing you to your high and savoring the little sounds you made as you let go.

Your eyes were closed as you continued to pleasure yourself, your orgasm steadily building at the thought of your lover. Your moans increased in pitch with each passing minute to the point you didn’t hear the door crack open and Jinnie step in.

You rocked your hips against your fingers, moaned Hyunjin’s name like a prayer, your eyes opening briefly just to see Jinnie standing at the door staring at you, a bulge clearly visible in the sweatpants he was wearing. You let out a gasp and removed your fingers from your panties before sitting up.

“What are you doing here?!” You shrieked, pulling your blankets up your legs to cover yourself.

Jinnie continued to look at you with lust in his eyes. He heard you from his room, your sweet moans as you called out his name as you pleasured yourself. He tried to ignore it, but you just sounded too sweet.

“Let me make you feel good,” Jinnie said as he slowly walked toward you. “You need me baby, so let me. Will you?”

Shit, he must have heard you through the walls. You continued to eye him as he stalked towards you, a pleading look on his face. You were still wet, your panties sticking to your skin, a constant reminder to what you were doing before you were interrupted. You were sad at how you weren’t able to orgasm, the need still pooling in your core.

Your mind was so hazy, drunk with lust and filled with need that you wanted to believe Jinnie was Hyunjin. You remembered how you craved Hyunjin’s touch, wanting to fall apart at the mercy of his fingers. Looking at the man in front of you, you thought fuck it and leaned back on your pillow and removed your blankets from your lower half, exposing your soaked core to him.

Jinnie licked his lips, his eyes trained on your covered pussy, your folds clearly visible through your panties. He quickly scrambled onto the bed, laying on his stomach to come face to face with your core.

You watched as he looked you in the eyes before pressing a soft kiss to your covered clit over and over leaving you breathless at the teasing sensation. Jinnie was in no rush as he pressed kisses down your left thigh, then your right before once more pressing a kiss to your clit.

By this point, you were begging, pleading for him to touch you so you could cum, the pleasure so overwhelming from his actions that you felt sparks shoot down your thighs and little flutters in your belly.

Jinnie chuckled as he pushed your panties to the side, finally coming face to face with your sopping folds. You let out a loud moan as he licked up your slit before taking your clit in his mouth and began to suckle the bud. Your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding his head as plunged his tongue into your hole. With each groan he let out, your arousal gushed out, coating his face as he licked up every drop, not wanting to waste your sweet slick.

You were close, the feeling of the band coiling tighter and tighter within you. You gripped Jinnie’s hair tighter, spreading your legs wider so he could continue without hindrance.

“Lemme come, please, please,” you whimpered.

Jinnie let out a hum, acknowledging your pleas. He’d like nothing more for you to come on his tongue. With a few more suckles he heard you let out a moan as you let go, copious amounts of your release leaking out of your pussy to trickle down your ass and coat his chin. He licked you clean, sticking his tongue in your entrance one last time to massage your walls as you came down.

Once he felt your grip slack on his hair, he leaned back, and gazed down at you. You stared back at him, noticing his blown out pupils and raging boner. All you could do was regulate your breathing as you watched him strip, his shirt coming off with ease to reveal his toned abs, followed by his sweats, his cock springing out and slapping his belly.

You took him in, your eyes glued to his cock that was perfectly identical to Hyunjin’s, down to the little mole on the shaft that you loved so much. Jinnie scooted closer to you and lifted your legs up and onto his shoulders before sheathing himself within you.

You moaned at the familiar stretch, your mind blown with how he can feel just like your boyfriend. You didn’t have time to think much as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your pussy at a fast pace. It was uncanny at how he knew how to fuck you, how to angle his hips so he can reach that spot that makes your toes curl.

Jinnie smirked at you as if he could read your thoughts, gripping your legs tighter as he slammed his hips into yours. You were his, that he was certain, and he was going to keep it that way.

You clenched around his cock as you felt your orgasm build once more, shock on your face mixed with pleasure at the fact that you were going to come again so soon.

“That’s right baby, come on my cock. Come on Jinnie’s cock,” he cooed, bringing one hand down to thumb at your clit.

You felt the pressure build in your lower belly, stronger than it usually was. The pressure was so much that you thought you were going to pee. Before you could mumble for Jinnie to stop, you let go, your orgasm hitting you hard. You tossed your head back as your vision went white, little stars forming in front of you as you heard a ringing in your ears. You felt your release leak out, so much so that you began to panic.

“No no baby, just lay back, you squirted baby and that’s just so fucking hot,” Jinnie moaned as he punctuated each syllable with a thrust of his hips.

His eyes drifted to your pussy, how wet you were, your pussy talking with each drag of his cock within you. You were perfect, your pussy was perfect, and he was going to claim you, mark you as his. With a few more thrusts, he stilled, his pelvis flush to your ass as he came, his cum flooding your insides and mixing with your slick that was now starting to pool on the sheets.

As he came down from his high, he withdrew his cock, watching as his cum seeped from your pussy. He looked up into your eyes, his heart fluttering as you gazed up at him with a look he couldn’t decipher. He started to get up, thinking he’s overstayed his welcome when you reached out and mumbled “stay.”

You were more than satisfied, your lower half full of his cum, your clit and pussy tingling from the abuse it received. Maybe it’s because you were missing Hyunjin, but as Jinnie got up to leave, you reached out to him and said the one word you never thought you’d say. You watched as Jinnie looked in shock, but then love as he scooted next to you, cuddling you close to his body.

As time passed your eyes became heavy, sleep catching up to your exhausted body. And with the sound of Jinnie’s beating heart and warmth he provided, you feel into a deep sleep.

— —

Ever since you let Jinnie in your bed, it’s become a ritual, where he joins you once you’ve showered. He makes sweet love to you, providing you with orgasm after orgasm until you fall asleep, satisfied and exhausted.

You didn’t mind, matter of fact you were ecstatic, your needs being taken care of while Hyunjin was gone. You mentioned to him one night about the arrangement worried he would object. However, he wholeheartedly thought it was okay, happy that you were being cared for in more ways than one.

Jinnie was your savor in Hyunjin’s absence. He took such good care for you, no matter how tired he was from rehearsal. He made your meals, pampered you, fucked you, made sure you didn’t want for nothing. At first you didn’t mind, as it was nice to be doted on, especially in your lovers absence. However, over time you started to notice slight differences in Jinnie’s behavior.

He became more clingy, wanting to be with you whenever he wasn’t at work. However, that even changed when one day he suggested you bring your work with you so you could join him at the studio. When you declined, he felt dejected, his head hung low with hurt in his eyes. You didn’t care however, as you wanted to carry on with life as usual, not breaking up your routine, especially when it came to work.

Things seemed to be okay as Jinnie backed down a little, staying in his lane and just going with the flow. He hadn’t joined you in bed for a few weeks now, wanting to give you your space. You were grateful for it, needing the room to breathe and take time to think.

However, you began to miss Hyunjin even more as month four hit, his absence starting to take a toll on you.

Jinnie started to notice a change in your behavior, noticing that you seemed more sad than usual. Thinking you needed to be pampered he planned a movie night filled with your favorite snacks.

You joined begrudgingly, not really wanting to be next to him, but also not wanting to hurt his feelings. You chose your snacks and grabbed a blanket to cuddle up for the movie.

Halfway through, Jinnie turned to you and placed a hand on your knee. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You looked at Jinnie and said, “I’m just missing Hyunjin,” which was the truth. Your mind was actually on your boyfriend and what you two would be doing right now if he was home.

“Oh y/n, don’t you get it? I am Hyunjin,” Jinnie said.

You were taken aback at his response. The way he was looking at you as if he needed you to understand what he said, to how his hand was still on your knee made you feel uncomfortable.

“You’re not Hyunjin,” you countered, narrowing your eyes at the clone.

“Why of course I am,” Jinnie said with a confused face.

You slowly began to unravel yourself from the blankets and stand up to back away slowly. Something isn’t right. The clone truly believes he is Hyunjin. You didn’t know what to say so you continued to back up until you reached your room. You fumbled for the doorknob and finally finding it, you gave it a twist and quickly stepped inside. After closing the door, you locked it, the click it made making you feel a little more safe.

You walked to your bedside and found your phone, dialing Hyunjin’s number immediately.

“Hey baby!” Hyunjin answered enthusiastically.

You felt the opposite of happy however. “Hyunjin, I’m scared,” you voiced, a slight tremble evident in your voice.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asked, his enthusiasm now turned to concern.

“Jinnie just said that he is you. I really think your clone thinks he’s the original you.”

Hyunjin was quiet, the line silent as the seconds passed on. Finally, Hyunjin responded, “Baby, what are you talking about?”

“You heard me!” You shrieked, desperation in your voice. “Isn’t there something you can do?!”

“Okay, okay, calm down love. I’ll talk with the manager and see what we can do okay?”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but at least it was something. “Okay,” you softly said.

“Okay, good,” Hyunjin paused for a moment, listening to whoever was talking to him on the other side. “Listen love, I gotta go. I’ll talk to the manager and then let you know what they say. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said and hung up.

Now what were you going to do? You couldn’t stay in here forever, although it was tempting. Maybe just for tonight? Yeah, that would work and then tomorrow you can face the nightmare that was right outside your door. — — “Good morning baby!” Jinnie said as he gestured for you to sit, as he had made a huge spread for breakfast.

You cautiously sat down and grabbed some toast, nibbling on the corners as you eyed the clone.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today. I have an empty schedule today.”

You really didn’t want to go anywhere with this clone, but for your safety, you may have to play along.

“Okay,” you agreed half heartedly.

Jinnie’s face lit up at your answer and continued to eat his breakfast. After you finished your toast you got up and walked to the couch, plopping down on the soft cushions. You waited for Jinnie to finish, not wanting to be in the same room with him if you didn’t have to.

However, all too soon, he finished his meal and came to stand beside you waiting for you to get up. Sighing you followed him out of the door, your mood the total opposite of his. You stayed silent as he chattered away filling your day with him.

— —

And so it went day after day, you making sure Jinnie was happy, and unsuspicious. You didn’t let him into your bed anymore, not feeling safe with the prospect. Each night, Hyunjin would reassure you everything would be alright and he’d be home soon, in less than a week in fact. You wanted the days to pass quickly, so you wouldn’t have to be in the house by yourself with Jinnie anymore.

Jinnie slowly started to notice the change, after you turned your head away as he tried to kiss you. He stared at you confused, his eyes trying to catch yours. He tried to kiss you again before you pushed him away. He felt a fire build in his chest at your refusal. Don’t you want, no need him? He’s your boyfriend after all.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He questioned, reaching out for you.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” you said, not sure what he would do next.

“What do you mean? Of course you’re my girlfriend!” He said with a chuckle.

“You’re not hyunjin!”

This again. Jinnie was tired of hearing you say that. When would you understand he is Hyunjin, the one and only. He is Hyunjn, your boyfriend, the love of your life. Glaring at you, he stepped closer, watching as you stepped back in fear.

“I. Am. Hyunjin.”

Three words, each punctuated in a menacing tone. You were afraid, not sure what he would do. You slowly backed up toward the door, wanting to keep a safe distance between you and the clone.

“Where are you going baby? Why are you running from me?” Jinnie asked, his face falling into a pleading look.

“Stay…stay back!” You shouted as you got closer to the door.

Jinnie began to shake his head, his hands reaching up to grasp at the strands of hair. He dropped them suddenly and rushed towards you, his voice loud and pleading.

“Please baby! I love you! I am Hyunjin! Why are you turning me away?”

You were about to let out a blood curdling scream when Jinnie stopped in his tracks, his face scrunched up in confusion. He tried to move, but found he couldn’t, his eyes on yours. A few more seconds passed before he collapsed on the floor in a heap, his eyes staring straight ahead.

What just happened? You were staring at the clone in shock, too scared to move. Suddenly, you heard a key in the door and stepped away so you wouldn’t get hit. The door opened quickly and Hyunjin stepped through concern on his face as he took in the scene before him.

“Y/n!” He said as he ran to you, engulfing you in his arms for a hug.

You clutched onto his shirt, breathing in his scent that was so familar to you. Hyunjin is here. The real Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin. You buried your face in his chest and began to sob tears of happiness. You were happy this nightmare was over. — — After that eventful day, someone from the company came to take Jinnie away. Hyunjin explained that he was able to get in contact with the manager who spoke with the engineers on possible solutions to your problem. They suggested a system shut down, deactivating the little chip that was implanted in the clones head.

The whole process took thirty minutes, the perfect amount of time for Hyunjin to get from the airport and back to you. He listened as you explained everything that happened, how Jinnie assumed the role of Hyunjin, as he thoroughly was convinced he was the original.

He became obsessed with the role, wanting you to believe it too, which obviously you knew it wasn’t true. After you were done with your tale, Hyunjin cradled you to his body, running his fingers through your hair.

“I’m so glad you’re okay love,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your head.

You hummed in agreement, snuggling closer to your lover. “So what happens next? You know…since you won’t have a clone?”

“Oh I’ll have to just make it work and work a little extra, but it’ll be worth it if it means you’re safe.”

Your heart ached at the fact that he would have to put in overtime to pick up the slack, but you understood his stance. You wanted to be safe and with your boyfriend, with no extras in the house such as a clone.

-- -- Life went back to normal after a while. You had a successful fashion show, your designs impressing the judges and catching the eyes of some of the fashion gurus. Hyunjin was working more, but was handling the process with grace.

He always came home to you with a smile on his face, ready to smoother you with love. You were glad to have someone in your bed again, happy that it was your boyfriend as he knew you the best, loved you the best.

Hyunjin made sure to remind you nightly as he sheathed himself within your walls, fucking you nice and slow as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, as he touched you just right, grinning as you fell apart to his fingers, mouth, cock.

Yes, life was back to normal and the clone was a thing of the past. You were happy to have your ordinary life back, the thought of the clone slowly being pushed into the back of the recesses of your mind. You had to be around the other members clones occasionally, but that you didn’t mind, as they seemed normal and understood their place.

What once was a good idea turned into a nightmare, as sometimes having a copy of yourself can do more harm than good.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek

[elixara]

what are the love languages of hsr men? — their love languages in a relationship

words of affirmation — verbal expressions of love, appreciation, and encouragement

dan heng, jiaoqiu, mydei, sunday: “know that i love you. you are loved, even if you cannot see it. you are cared for. i love every part of you, traits that you seem perfect or imperfect, your scars, every flaw. i love you.”

quality time — giving another person your undivided attention

jing yuan, dan heng, gepard, sunday: despite both of your busy schedules, you make time to see them. if you can, then you will. you know that they love spending time with you. making new memories as time flows.

physical touch — connection through appropriate physical touch (nonsexual or sexual)

blade, dr. ratio, mydei, phainon: you know that touch is what grounds them. subtle in public and obvious in private. you let them touch your hand, hug you, caress every part of your body. intimate skin to skin contact (sexual or nonsexual) is a must. perhaps begrudgingly in veritas’s case.

acts of service — selfless, thoughtful acts that make a person’s life easier

jing yuan, gepard: they truly appreciate it that someone in their life is being thoughtful of the situation they’re in. both are incredibly busy and you make their life easier by remembering the things about them. perhaps that’s what made them fall in love with you more.

receiving gifts — tangible tokens of love and thoughtfulness

jiaoqiu, phainon: oh they adore gifts, even little trinkets that remind you of them when you saw what you gave them. they found it adorable that you thought of them when you are buying or preparing this gift. they will always treasure what you give them. it’s the thought that counts, always.

of course, they try to do all love languages when it comes to you. after all, you are their lover. they treasure you the most. your happiness is their happiness.

divider by @saradika-graphics

© elixara

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: Just a fluffy drabble of Nanami Kento loving you.

Summary: Early morning musings.

a/n: I've really been suffering from writer's block these past few months. The words come and go at a pace that's maddening, but thankfully, they stayed long enough for me to write this little piece.

JJK Masterlist | Divider: @saradika-graphics

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It's the question that surfaces in Nanami's mind as he watches you sleep beside him, early morning light casting gentle shadows across your features. Your breathing is steady, peaceful, a barely there rumble with every inhale that he’s memorized over countless mornings like this one. Just as he’s done many times before, he traces the outline of your form, fingertips ghosting over your skin without disturbing you.

In those first few mornings of your relationship, your eyes would flutter open just from the proximity of his touch, catching him in his admiration. He wouldn’t bother to hide the blush, you would throw him a sleepy smile, then succumb to sleep again. Now, many mornings later, you’ve grown accustomed to his gentle exploration, allowing him to follow the curve of your shoulder, reconnecting the constellations that pepper your brown skin without stirring from your dreams.

In this position, while you sleep on your stomach, he can admire the subtle roll of skin on your neck where it meets your shoulder—a gentle landscape formed by the angle of your head against the silk pillow. It may be his own imaginings, but he can already smell the Shea butter from your neck, warming from the rising sun and wafting to tickle his nose in a half-remembered dream that lingers many hours into his work day.

Your diamond earrings glint in the morning light—beautiful studs you refuse to remove despite his concerns. He’s learned to love this small token of rebellion, unafraid to admit that the way the jewelry complements your skin makes you look particularly ethereal in the waking hours. The sunlight hits these diamonds at the right angle, splintering light in a mix of purple and green that plays across the curve of your cheek, as if nature is adorning you herself.

Even while unconscious, you are beautiful.

He traces up, fingertips brushing your lobe before smoothing through edges that have smeared on your skin like delicate wisps of morning fog. They’re perfect, tiny coils and curls that defy rule and frizz along your hairline, peeking from the cream satin bonnet. That bonnet, somehow still attached to you despite how wildly you sleep, showcases to him all the care you take with yourself, all the traditions passed sacred to you that he’s been allowed to learn, to witness, to cherish.

And god, how he cherishes the uninhibited abandon in which you sleep—the complete trust spoken in the way you sprawl across a mattress that was once solely his. Your cheek is creased from your pillowcase and hands, the corners of your lashes crystallized with evidence of your dreams, and your lips—slightly parted, pillowed with relaxation—glisten at one corner with moisture you have long stopped being embarrassed about in his presence.

It’s you in your purest form—unguarded, unfiltered, displaying a beauty more profound than anything the waking world gets to see. It’s you without makeup, you without measured words, underneath social performances, practiced smiles, and expectations—the raw truth of you, morning breath and all.

Just his. It’s a privilege so deep that it makes his chest ache, the gratitude overwhelming.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Nanami remembers the strict parameters he once set around relationships—the necessary boundaries, the premeditated time commitments, the emotional distance he maintained without thinking. Work—for as firm as he is about clocking out on time—came first, then necessities, then, if time allowed and he had the mental stamina, connection. For him, it was efficient. But terribly lonely.

Naturally, you shifted it all without trying.

The memory of seeing you for the first time still replays in his mind—fresh as the day it happened, enhanced by his own untempered affection that grows over time. He’s carried an unspoken envy for his parents’ love-at-first-sight story his entire life, a curmudgeon of his own making that could also speak of self-sabotage in relationships that never lasted. Surely they were exaggerating? Love at first sight? As if the cosmos aligned at the right moment to bring Mr. and Mrs. Nanami together? Nanami refused to believe it.

And yet he’ll tell anyone who will listen that every grievance he held about the concept evaporated the moment he saw you. Surrounded by greenery and the stifling heat of a plant nursery, perfect textured hair framing your face that pursed with contemplation, neck curved over a large Monstera Deliciosa. A sage sundress that fluttered over your form like gossamer wings catching the sunlight, the shimmer of your sunscreen across the expanse of your shoulders like dewdrops, a cock in your hip as you studied the plant only made you stand out as sublime elegance amongst the foliage.

Admittedly, he remembers feeling only embarrassment when he reached for the plant before his mind could truly register your presence—his original quest into the nursery solely to find a gift for his secretary, who was becoming a new mother.

He remembers the embarrassment flaring liquid hot in his chest when your eyes flashed with surprise and indignation that he would take something you had mentally staked claim to. He remembers how disorienting it all was—the sudden awareness of you as if the rest of the nursery had faded to shadows. Your brow had lifted in disbelief as you rolled your eyes and brushed past him, the subtle scent of what he now knows as Shea butter lingering in the humid air. Nanami found himself frozen, the Monstera forgotten in his hands, his perfectly ordered thoughts scattering like leaves in a sudden breeze.

He remembers how that white hot embarrassment quickly morphed into something unfamiliar, fleeting in previous relationships but never as prominent as in that moment—a flutter in his stomach, a tightness in his chest, and a desperation that he’s thankful to have embraced.

“I’m buying a gift for a new mother, but maybe I can find something that would not require so much care,” he’d said, the words tumbling from his mouth like a wobbling newborn calf as he watched you stop, turn to face him, guarded eyes taking him in. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He remembers how his heart hammered against his ribcage as he waited for your response, how the simple act of breathing seemed almost impossible. How utterly mortifying it was to realize that in thirty seconds, you had changed everything for him. How unbelievably confused he felt when the cosmos he mocked aligned for him when he ran into you at a bookstore days later, giving him the courage to ask you for coffee, for your number, for a date, and the many that followed to create the perfect cacophony of love.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It’s almost ridiculous how fortunate he is. How he gets to hear you laugh—genuine and unrestrained, choked around a snort when he’s said something particularly dry. How he gets to hear your musings in the comfort of your home—the melodic cadence of your humming when you bake, the unprecedented sailor mouth that would make his mother faint, the conversations you have with your dog as he follows you to the backyard. Every day, despite being subject to it many times, it feels like the very first time.

The novelty of it will never fade, because Nanami still calculates how to make you laugh so hard your lashes bubble with tears. He still asks what song you’re humming, knowing you’ll always reply “I made it up”. He still pretends to be shocked that the way a curse word flies from your mouth doesn’t make him unnaturally turned on. He still raises both brows when he hears you conversing with the dog, even though he has embraced the same habit.

"How did I get so lucky?"

The variation of thought comes naturally as his fingers fall back to his side, careful not to disturb you. There was a time when luck meant nothing to him—when grief was the only emotion he allowed himself to fully embrace, a painful reminder of his humanity when everything else felt hollow.

There was only one person who had truly seen him—experienced and witnessed the raw parts of the awkward growth through puberty, commiserated over failed crushes, shared late nights playing video games, and made him laugh until his stomach hurt. When that person was ripped away before their life could truly begin, it left Nanami in denial for so long that isolation became his sanctuary.

Each subsequent attempt at connection through romantic means only reinforced what experience had taught him—that opening a sliver of himself inevitably led to another goodbye, another confirmation that vulnerability was simply an invitation for devastation.

So it’s odd how that worry sprouted in the youth of your relationship with him but was never strong enough to take root. He was healthier, stronger even, and intelligent enough to know that you would not settle for someone who only loved in half-truths. For the first time, the fear of losing someone by not trying, outweighed the fear of the pain that might come with trying and failing.

When Nanami had the choice between protecting himself and never knowing you completely, or risking that devastation for the chance to build something real, he found himself making a choice that his deceased friend would have encouraged with a smile that could make the sun rise.

His efforts have paid off.

As the world wakes up and the noise of cars increases from the cracked window, Nanami counts his lucky stars that he tried. As he watches you sleep, he feels something swell in his chest—a fullness that once scared him but now feels like coming home after a long day.

Soon, he’ll slip out of bed like he does every morning, each day a ritual of thankfulness for the life he almost denied himself. Soon he’ll walk into the kitchen and measure coffee grounds with the same precision he applies to everything, his eyes drifting to the mug you always use—chipped on the handle, crafted from an impromptu class you dragged him to as a second date. He’d been so focused on not embarrassing himself with clumsy hands that he’d missed the exact moment you decided he was worth keeping.

Soon he will slide a fresh cup to you across the counter, taking in your ruffled form—bonnet still secure, eyes heavy with sleep, a blanket wrapped around you because you’re always cold, even in summer. The sight will catch in his throat like it always does, you trusting and vulnerable, showing a version of yourself that transforms his once sterile apartment into a home where love blooms in every corner.

But for now, he watches as you grumble and smack your lips, rolling over until your head is resting on his chest. He blooms with heat, an iridescent sensation that radiates outward from that exact spot, like your memory lives beneath his skin and thrums to life when you’re close. You wrap an arm around him, whether it’s to test the firmness of a pillow or to make sure it’s still him, he’s not quite sure. But it means nothing when you fall back into slumber, snoring softly against him, your breath a metronome that’s synched with his over time.

The rush of it all settles into his bones like it does every morning as he relaxes, his hand tracing the column of your spine absentmindedly.

You chose him. From the moment you rolled your eyes in that nursery, some invisible thread connected you both, and despite it all, that thread held tight. Out of all possibilities, out of all potential paths, you chose this one—with him. Not out of necessity or convenience, but with deliberate, purposeful love that continues to choose him, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day.

"How did I get so lucky?"

“Kento,” you slur against his chest, voice gravelly with sleep, “stop thinking so loud so I can sleep. It’s too early.”

It’s almost eleven in the morning. But Nanami can do nothing but chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, marveling as your curls tickle his nose before his fingers return to their pilgrimage across your body. Each brush of him against you comes with an unspoken promise—that he will never take this for granted, that he will chose you every morning just as purposefully as you chose him.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Who knows. But Nanami will spend every day making sure he deserves it.

Thanks for reading!

[harbours-lighthouse]

BABY, BOTH ARMS CRADLE YOU NOW

— PAIRING: Jason Todd x F!Reader

— SUMMARY: A sleepy moment between you and Jason on a rainy day.

— AN: I'm so sorry, this is super short! I'm working on three other separate things but felt like writing just a little bit for Jason...

cw: none, fluff wc: 527

GREY LIGHT staggers through the open window, sluggish along the floorboards. Rain taps against the wood, leaving behind darkened spots like spilt ink along parchment.

Jason's fingertips dance along your skin like rain drops themselves, pressing into the meat of your arm gently as if you were made up of piano keys. Your sighs that of silent melodies.

"How was patrol?" you murmur, pressing your nose against the underside of his chin, feeling the pleasant scrape of stubble.

You rise and fall with Jason, laying on top of him as he takes up all the space on the couch. With each breath he takes, his ribs expand and compress, and each time you think his wariness is slowly seeping out of him. Like a sponge being squeezed, rung out dry.

"It was tiring," Jason answers quietly, head inclining to the side. You feel the dull throb of his pulse against your cheek.

"Did you have to help any of the others?"

"For a bit. It wasn't too bad—Tim nearly crashed out, though"

"Why?"

"I don't even know."

You smile, amused. Shifting, you pull your head away from the shelter Jason's neck offers, and press your palms against the couch cushions to keep you upright. A rumble of protest vibrates in Jason's throat, his adam's apple bobbing.

Looking down at him, you see the tips of his lashes lit silver by the metallic light in the room. The green in his irises seems dimmer, more grey. It reminds you of overcast seas, the rush of his breath mimicking cresting waves along the shore.

Delicately, you bring your fingers to trace along the slope of his strong nose, the curve of his cheeks, the lines beneath his eyes.

"You're tired," you say softly, not a question nor an accusation. Just a statement. An observation.

Jason hums, watching you with hooded eyes, fatigue clinging to him heavily.

"Sleep, Jay."

"I wanna talk to you..."

"You can when you wake up."

Jason moves to gently grasp your hand, turning it to the side so that his lips press against the hollow of your palm.

"You have to stay with me then," he whispers against your skin.

You grin, feeling as if Jason's exhaustion is leaking into you.

"Okay."

You press a tender kiss to his lips. Jason's breath falters, stammers against your mouth, his lashes flinch shut.

When you part away for breath, something you curse on the daily, Jason's arms wrap around your frame. He pulls you tightly against his chest, and you feel as if you're shielded away from everything—the world itself.

"I love you," you say into the folds of his shirt, and Jason's arms coil around you even firmer.

You feel his nose push against your scalp, breathing you in like you're a scent that he's been searching for—in a way, you are.

"I love you, too," Jason whispers back.

Outside, the traffic slows, the sound distant. Gulls squawk along the windowsills, and for a moment, you pretend that you're not really here in Gotham, but somewhere else.

Maybe along the coast, in a house that is warm. Where the windows can shut, where Jason can rest.

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

tags: @kitkatlover015 top divider credit: @/saradika-graphics © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[rainydayathogwarts]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ: april abyss

☆ mina ☆ 18 ☆ middle eastern ☆ english is my third language ☆ fuck jkr ☆

ˋ°•*⁀➷ guidelines ★ requests: open

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☆ marauders era ☆ golden trio ☆ slytherin boys ☆ stranger things ☆ criminal minds ☆ marvel ☆ jennifer's body ☆ fic recommendations ☆

All dividers are by @saradika-graphics, @strangergraphics, @cafekitsune, @bernardsbendystraws

© rainydayathogwarts - fuck you if you plagiarise

[stvrnioloslvt]

can i get 24 (ass) & 28 for the misc prompts w billie ?

absolutely you can!

24. “i can see you staring at my tits/thigh/ass”

28. “spank me”

busy days were the absolutely worst days for you. you didn't handle being far from billie too well, and she knew how much you suffered her absence, even for just a day.

usually you tried to busy yourself to kill time, and sometimes billie gave you some ideas as well. anything to keep you happy.

that's why she gave you her card, told you to go buy something nice for yourself and doll yourself up for her. and that's exactly what you did.

you spent most of your day trying clothes, deciding which ones you liked better before purchasing them. and now, almost four hours later, you were standing in front of the wall length mirror in your bedroom, covered only by your panties and bra. your playlist was put on shuffle, phone discarded somewhere in the room as you twirled and danced alone, the song playing making you feel so much confidence flowing through you.

reaching for the bag on the ground, you pulled out black short shorts, bending down to slip them on. just as you did so, the door clicked open, and billie stood in the entryway frozen. her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but soon she relaxed and leaned on the doorway, a mischievous smirk planted on her lips.

she hummed in delight, not even trying to hide the fact that she was shamelessly eye-fucking you.

-I can see you staring at my ass,- you teased her, eyes locking on hers through the mirror. she huffed, pushing herself off the door as she made her way to you. immediately her arms wrapped around your waist, fingers twitching as she held herself back.

-can't help it when it looks so nice in these,- she slipped a finger inside the fabric of the shorts, pulling a little before letting it slap against your skin.

you turned around, grabbing her face in your hands before kissing her, moaning into the kiss as her hands travelled lower, then fondled your ass. -so fucking soft,- she murmured, her voice raspy from the heated kiss.

-spank me,- you whispered, whimpering when she delivered a tentative slap to your flesh. -are you sure, love?- she asked, and even though her voice dripped in honest worry you could see in her eyes how much she actually enjoyed your request.

you nodded, breathing out a needy -yeah- before kissing her again, softly nibbling her bottom lip. she chuckled darkly, squeezing your bum before slapping it again.

-come lay on my lap,- she commanded, sitting on the edge of the bed. her hand wrapped gently around your wrist, her cold rings creating a nice contrast with your burning skin, and then she pulled you until you laid across her lap, your face smashed against the soft duvet.

-but first,- her fingers traced a featherlight pattern on your back, traveling to your bra. -this has to go,- and just like that, she snapped your bra open, helping you slip it off your arms. she hummed satisfied, rubbing her hand up and down your legs, enjoying the way you squirmed around each time she touched a sensitive point.

you felt her fingertips sneak between your legs, gasping when she pressed them softly to your clothed clit. she rubbed you in tight circles a couple times, enough to chuckle at the dampness that drenched through two layers of clothes, even if thin, and onto her fingers.

-fuck, we're gonna have so much fun together, babygirl.-

© stvrnioloslvt

I hope you enjoyed it! you can find other works under the tag # © stvrnioloslvt [pick&choose] or you can request in my asks following these instructions! thank you for reading ♡

divider credits to @saradika-graphics

[theetherealbloom]

PEDRO PASCAL MASTERLIST

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

SERIES:

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU (18+)

You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

ONE-SHOTS:

CLOSE TO YOU

A commute crush turned meet cute with Pedro Pascal.

NORMAL THING

It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party. Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart… and the government too.

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast. Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

You Got Me So In Love, I've Never Been This Possessive

While on a scenic boat trip along the coasts of Malta, you bask in the crystal-clear waters, and laughter with Pedro’s cast and crew. Despite his injured arm keeping him on the boat, Pedro can’t keep his eyes off you.

Whole Package, Babe, I Like The Way You Fit

Holiday beach trip with Pedro and friends. Or, that one new Pedro shirtless pic…

You Are In Love, True Love

A lasting love with Pedro Pascal. Or… you and Pedro get engaged.

Your Love Feels Like A Sunday When You Got Nowhere To Go

You are Pedro’s date to the SNL 50 celebration as his newly engaged fiancée.

© etherealbloom - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

all dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[sugarwarachan]

(･ω･)つ andy's notes: okay I don't know what spirits took over my soul for this one, but part 2 to follow because this totally got away from me!!! (in a good way) cws: all characters 20+, mild smut, mdni, suggestive situations, assistant!reader (don't date your boss in real life, kids)

touchstarved!reo who’s always had everything handed to him on a silver platter, so he normally loses interest quickly, whether that’s in hobbies, things, or people.

as his executive assistant, you’re more in tune with his private life than most people. you can’t help thinking of him as nothing more than an arrogant playboy, running through partners quicker than you can keep track of them.

touchstarved!reo who actually just wants someone to want him for him—not his career, not his wealth, not his family name, just him. even if he is a bit obsessive and pushy and has a ten-step skincare regimen.

and he really thinks that someone is you.

touchstarved!reo who starts to stay late every night because you stay late every night. yes, you’re a hard worker with good ideas, but you’re also funny and kind and so smart it makes his head spin.

casual intimacy sprouts between you two like a weed. you pass him snacks and he makes you coffee, and every time his fingers brush against yours, he’s certain time has stopped because surely you felt that spark, too?

touchstarved!reo who knows you won’t go out with him but continues to obsess over you anyway. you’re too professional for any work romance—even though he swears he’s seen you checking out his ass when you thought he wasn’t looking.

touchstarved!reo who can’t believe how turned on he gets when you scold him for misremembering meetings, or forgetting to call his mother, or any number of things that he increasingly slips up on just to hear you bite at him.

he’s lost track of how many times he’s touched himself under his desk, the only light in his office the bright haze of his laptop while he spills into his fist to the thought of you catching him.

touchstarved!reo who starts hearing threats from his family about the need for him to settle down, which sends his brain scrambling in a panic. he asks for a reprieve, time to find someone on his own, but they won’t hear it.

"unless you’re serious about someone now," his mother says, doubt heavy in her voice.

you walk in then, and before he can stop himself, he pulls you into his arms. the small oompf you make against his chest makes his heart squeeze.

"funny you should mention that, mother. because y/n and I have been dating for months now."

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works. other touchstarved!bllk boys here <3 divider by @saradika-graphics

[moonchild9350]

Always

summary: you and Hyunjin have a peculiar relationship with your roommate Felix

pairing: est. relationship Hyunjin x fab!reader x roommate Felix

genre: sprinkle of fluff, smut-18+MDNI

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cockwarming, spanking, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, partner sharing, unprotected sex (don't), multiple creampies, squirting, nipply play, dirty talk, use of term slut

notes: short, sweet, and filthy lol I just love hyunjin and felix omg

If you enjoyed, consider a reblog, comment, or like as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

It’s the end of the day, the part where you start to wind down, your mind exhausted from the day’s activities. You’re sitting on your bed holding your penguin plushie as you scroll through your phone when you notice the time.

Seeing that it is almost seven, you sit up as excitement courses through you, your core clenching in anticipation for the evening that’s in store.

Hyunjin will be home soon after a long day at work. You miss your boyfriend dearly, the hours long without him.

At the thought of seeing him soon, you get up out of bed and shimmy out of your sweatpants and panties, leaving yourself in only his oversized shirt, the hem barely grazing your thighs.

You pad to the door and open it, making your way to the living room where a certain blond is sitting, his eyes trained on the tv…that is until you walk in.

At your entrance, Felix looks up and flashes the smile you have grown to love, all teeth and dimples, as he sets his phone down. He beckons you over, his tiny finger making a come hither motion as he invites you to sit on his lap.

You stand there for a moment, gazing at the beautiful man, your hands behind your back. You take him in, how the bulge within his grey sweats is ever enlarging, his cock twitching as you take one step forward.

“That’s it, come here sweetheart,” Felix purrs as he pushes his hair out of his freckled face.

You’re wet, incredibly so, as your body is trained almost like Pavlov’s dog. At the stroke of seven, you become horny, the thought of cock filling you up making the feeling almost unbearable.

You arrive in front of Felix and giggle, as your cheeks flush at the sight of the blond.

“Ready sweetheart?” Felix asks, his hands reaching into his sweats to pull his cock out, giving it a few strokes as he spreads the precum that’s leaking from the tip around.

You nod as you take in his hard cock, perfect and chubby, all ready for you.

He holds it steady as you straddle his legs and bring your core to his length. Felix helps you line his cock with your entrance as you experimentally lower yourself, sighing at the stretch his tip provides.

You left your hips up before bringing them down once more, this time taking all of him. You let out a whimper at feeling full, your pussy keeping his member nice and snug within your wet walls.

You wrap your arms around Felix and nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck as he holds you close. You just sit there, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath, reveling in the comfort of being in Felix’s arms.

You relax further as his hands sneak beneath your shirt, his fingers gently trailing your back as he continues to watch the show on the tv screen.

And so it goes. You and your boyfriend have a particular arrangement with Felix, your roommate. He joined your little abode around a year ago, all sunshine and happiness, and thankful for you both taking him in.

As time went on and you three became closer, feelings of friendship turning into something a little more with each passing day. You were already dating Hyunjin, and Felix knew that, but he couldn’t let his feelings go to waste, confessing one day while at movie night.

You remember looking at Hyunjin, a smirk forming on your face at the confession. Little did Felix know that you both liked Felix too and were more than willing to open up your relationship to include him.

Felix was delighted, as the best case scenario played out. However, before he could get too excited, Hyunjin laid down some ground rules.

The first rule he imposed was you were his at the end of the day and only his, but Felix can enjoy the perks of having you close by, whatever those perks may be. He also demanded that Felix prep you and get you ready for him before he got home.

Felix readily agreed, as he got to be with you, feel you, and that was more than he had bargained for.

So here he was, “prepping” you by having you warm his cock. He loved how you felt around him, your pussy always warm and wet, your slick dripping down onto his pants, forming a constantly enlarging wet spot.

You both sat there for a while, waiting for the door to open and for Hyunjin to walk in. However, you were starting to feel needy, Felix’s cock feeling too good within you. You knew you were playing with fire, but decided to proceed, needing some type of relief as you waited for your love.

Smirking against Felix’s neck, you clenched down on his length while pressing wet kisses to his neck, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

Felix’s breath hitched for a moment before he recovered, lightly tapping your ass and gripping the flesh tight. You grinned before repeating the motion, this time feeling his cock twitch within you as he let out a low groan at the sensation. Felix gently rocked your hips over his cock, his length dragging deliciously against your walls.

You gripped his neck tighter as you breath caught, hoping he would do it again. However, Felix recovered, remembering that Hyunjin gets to have you first.

“Behave,” he said, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest and flowing to your ears.

You let out a sigh, as you lightly nipped his skin, Felix jumping at the slight pain. You’re not sure how much longer you could wait, needing to move, to gain any type of friction to ease your aching pussy.

As you thought of moving again, the door opened and in walked Hyunjin. You watched as he dropped his bags and kicked off his shoes before walking over to the living area. He smiled at seeing the two of you, wrapped in an intimate embrace, as you warmed Felix’s cock.

“You two are adorable,” Hyunjin cooed, taking out his phone to snap a picture, wanting to add it to his ever growing collection of his two favorite people.

Hyunjin continued to gaze at you two, the blood flowing to his cock as he took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair as you continued to nuzzle your head in the crook of Felix’s neck. He took in Felix, his eyes dilated and veins prominent on his hands as he gripped your ass tighter. He knew how Felix felt, your pussy too warm, wet, and just perfect.

“Ready love?” Hyunjin asked, walking closer to you.

You nodded your head, keeping your face tucked into Felix’s neck as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist. You let out a moan as Hyunjin lifted you off of Felix’s cock, the sudden emptiness making your walls contract as he carried you bridle style to your bedroom.

He laid you down on the soft sheets and began stripping his clothes off, his eyes on you the whole time. You watched as his cock sprang free, as he dragged his sweats down his thick thighs, licking your lips at the sight.

“Take your shirt off love, you know the drill,” Hyunjin commanded as he stood before you in all his glory.

You shuffled to take the garment off, your tits now on display for your lover. You leaned back and fondled the flesh, watching as Hyunjin stroked his length.

“Mm spread your legs love, show me your pussy,” Hyunjin said, as he bit his plush lips.

He let out a moan as you spread your legs, your folds parting and displaying your wet entrance and puffy clit. You whimpered as you swiveled your hips, wanting to touch yourself to ease the ache. However, you didn’t dare touch what was his, wanting him to have his fill first.

“That’s it love, such a pretty pussy just for me.”

Hyunjin approached you, as he slotted himself between your legs. He leaned over you, his body hovering over yours as caged you in, his lips finding purchase against yours. He kissed you passionately as he brought his cock to your entrance, pushing the tip in with a swift motion.

You moaned loudly against his mouth as his cock speared you open, your pussy welcoming him in with no hesitation. Hyunjin smirked at your reaction as he snapped his hips into yours once, twice, as he pushed your body up against the bed with the force each thrust. He set a fast pace, as he pounded into you, his hips withdrawing until his cock was almost out of your pussy before slamming back in.

Loud moans rang through the room, as Hyunjin fucked you, so loud you’re sure Felix could hear you from the living room. However, that was part of the thrill, the thought of Felix with his cock out, his hands stroking his length, the thought of fucking you at the forefront of his mind.

You squealed as Hyunjin adjusted his hips, the new angle causing his cock to brush against your sweet spot with each thrust, the drag sending little shockwaves through your core.

You tried to say his name, but nothing came out, your mouth left wide open as Hyunjin brought you closer to your orgasm.

Hyunjin could tell you were close, as your walls clenched around him, attempting to keep him deep inside you. He listened intently as you mumbled words, the syllables barely audible as you became cock drunk, chanting that you need his cock and don’t stop.

He could never get used to your pussy, how wet you get as he fucks you, as Felix teases you as you cockwarm him every night. Your pussy was made for him, stretching perfectly to accommodate him.

“Cum in me,” you whimpered, hoping he would not pull out like he usually does.

You wanted to be filled, to have his cum stuffed within you, so much so that it leaks out and doesn’t stop.

Hyunjin was shocked at first, but quickly recovered, grinning at your words, more than happy to oblige.

“My love wants me to fill her up, breed her good hmm?” Hyunjin asked as he swiveled his hips against yours.

“Yes, baby please, breed me,” you whined as you locked your legs around his ass pulling him as close as you could.

Hyunjin sought out your lips, pressing sloppy kisses to them as he continued to grind into you, the neatly trimmed hairs rubbing against your clit with each thrust. He felt like he would go insane as your walls clamped around him, urging him to cum, your tits rubbing against his chest perfectly, adding extra stimulation to his sensitive nipples. He placed his lips right at your ear as he continued to whisper dirty words to you.

“Fuck this pussy, love. Gonna cum, breed this pussy so good that it’ll stick and make you a mommy.”

At that you let out a loud cry, the thought of carrying Hyunjin’s child causing you let go, your orgasm wrecking through your body. You clutched onto him as he continued to fuck you through your high, his pace never faltering.

You whispered in his ear, your litany of his name causing him to moan as he came, spurt after spurt of his cum painting your walls white.

You rocked your hips against his thrusts, holding him close as he finished emptying himself within you. With a shaky breath he stilled, collapsing gently on top of you.

You laid there for a while, your breathing slowly going back to normal as Hyunjin pressed lazy kisses to your neck.

“We’re not done yet love,” Hyunjin finally whispered in a sultry voice.

He got up, withdrawing his now softened cock from your core. You could feel his cum slowly seep out, the trickle forming a sticky path down your ass. Hyunjin tutted at the sight, his finger gathering his cum before stuffing it back inside of you.

“Need that to stick don’t we? Keep it in love.” Hyunjin warned as he gave you a stern look.

You nodded in agreement, as he maneuvered behind you. He brought you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you snuggly. He pressed a kiss to your hair whispering sweet nothings as you both rested in the moment as two.

“Felix,” Hyunjin called shortly after, his arms still wrapped around you as he cradled your body.

The blond opened the door and walked in, a smile plastered on his freckled face.

“Sounds like Hyunjin took good care of you sweetheart,” Felix cooed as he got undressed. “Think you can take me too?”

You knew it was a rhetorical question as you would take his cock regardless but you answered nonetheless, wanting to please Felix.

“Give me your cock Lix,” you said, spreading your legs wide for him. Hyunjin gripped your thighs, bringing them to your chest to keep you open for him. Felix wasted no time slotting himself between your legs, his eyes trained on your swollen pussy.

“Would you look at that, you’re dripping in cum,” he teased. “Let’s just push that back in,” Felix grunted as he slid his cock into your pussy, a loud squelch echoing throughout the room as his cock pushed Hyunjin’s cum further inside you.

“You’re so wet sweetheart, take it all yeah?” Felix grunted as he slid his cock in and out in and out, your pussy letting both men know how wet you were with each thrust.

You whimpered as Felix began to pound into you, your eyes on his beautiful face. Your walls clenched at the sight of him falling apart above you, his hair falling in his face with the exertion.

You were about to reach up and grasp his face when Hyunjin let go of your legs and pinched your nipples, the jolt of pain sending waves of pleasure straight to you core.

“Ahh!” You moaned as Hyunjin toyed with your nipples, his fingers alternating between brushing against them and pinching them.

“Is Felix fucking you good love? Keep those legs open,” Hyunjin said, his voice right at your ear.

“Mm yes!” You said as you took a shaky breath.

“Love this pussy, just taking me. Look at that, sucking me right in,” Felix groaned his eyes trained on your walls stretching over his cock.

“Not gonna last long sweetheart, gonna cum, gonna give you my cum yeah?”

Hyunjin chuckled, his breath tickling your ear. “Hear that love? Gonna let Felix breed you full too?”

You were floating at his words, wanting nothing more than Felix’s cum within you.

“Lix give me your cum,” you begged as you spread your legs even wider, keeping them open just like Hyunjin instructed.

“Damn sweetheart, Hyunjin’s cum not enough for you that you need mine too? Are you our little cum dump?” Felix teased as he smirked.

You nodded quickly, little “mmms” leaving your lips.

As Hyunjin continue to play with your tits, he said in a low voice, “my little slut, gonna let Felix breed you too. Fill you up, give you his baby hmm?”

At the thought of carrying their babies, not knowing who the father was, you let out a loud whine, as you squirted, your walls contracting rhythmically around Felix’s cock.

The feel of you clamping down on him, holding him in tipped him over the edge, his cum filling your pussy, the fluid mixing with Hyunjin’s.

You whimpered as he pulled out, a gush of fluid leaking out down your ass and onto the sheets. You preened as Hyunjin whispered praises in your ear, his hands softly stroking your sides.

You watched as Felix left to go find a towel, returning shortly after leaving. He helped clean you off, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Good night sweetheart,” Felix said as he gave you a smile. He then got up and snatched his clothes, leaving to go back to his room.

“Let’s get you ready for bed. Get under the blankets love,” Hyunjin said as he helped you maneuver under the warm fabric.

He got in next to you and pulled you close. You were on the verge of sleep when Hyunjin broke the silence.

“I hope it really did stick and you’re carrying one of our babies.”

You didn’t say anything but laid there thinking about what he said. You wouldn’t be mad but actually happy at the thought as you loved both of the boys.

And that was a thought that you knew would always remain.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[h8aaz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

the all powerful — ❝ MARIGOLD .ᐟ READER ❞

☂ meet gen . . . her name is from tagetes genus, the scientific name for the marigold flower. when the button was pressed in oblivion and the world was reset, the marigold extracted from the umbrellas and remaining sparrows—as well as the ones taken by the kugelblitz—were combined into one being, one girl. and when sir reginald hargreeves discovered her existence in the new world, he took her immediately; shielding her from her destiny of meeting his adopted children from the original timeline.

that's her specialty ! . . . marigold is what gives the hargreeves their powers—so what about gen? she is, arguably, the most powerful being in the new timeline as she has every enhancement the glowing goo and particles she's made of can possibly give.

her favorite number ! . . . it's obvious which one of the brellies she takes a strong liking to—little number five! she absolutely adores the grumpy old man stuck in his younger body, she laughs at the concept very often, too. of course when they met, he was skeptical and, granted, very pissed. but due to her sweet nature, he couldn't resist coming around to her.

their blooming flower ! . . . the hargreeves siblings love her to no end! she's really the mediator they always needed. her way of speaking and love language of physical touch gives the siblings what they always wanted, always craved from someone other than their robot mother. plus, she gets along with each personality in the family; whether it's getting easily excited over things with luther, learning different fight styles with diego and lila, helping allison navigate being a mother to her teenage daughter, going over multiple safety precautions with klaus, listening to ben rant about missing the sparrows, going all the way to viktor's bar to assist in running the popular establishment, and of course—being with five nonstop while he's going over case information in his office.

glowing ink ! . . . as everyone knows, the umbrellas and sparrows had their academy logos tattooed on their wrist, and academies from other timelines had their own as well. but with gen, her tattoo is of a small marigold. and its not just some black ink permanently placed upon her—no, this one glows—a shimmering gold, nonetheless. and it never stays in one place. whenever she uses a new power, the flower changes its position on her skin, and searching for it is quite an enjoyable game for five to play.

COLLECT GEN'S PETALS !

coming soon . . .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . guys i love the umbrella academy so much and it was my obsession before supernatural so i basically HAD to make a reader for that show! obviously this !reader exists in s4 of the show and there's spoilers for all seasons of tua (if that wasn't obvious from the first paragraph lol)!!

CREDITS TO @daylighted AND HER BABY!READER THAT SPARKED THIS OBJECT!READERS UNIVERSE INTO THE WORLD!!

layout inspo from @titsout4jackles !!

special tags: @malfoymanxr-blog @sunsbaby @starzify @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @j2archives @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina

divider by saradika‐graphics!!

© 𝐇𝟖𝐀𝐀𝐙 — don't copy or repost without MY permission!!

[synamartia]

“ Oh, this will be fun … „

featuring ┊ ◜ hazelfoureyes ✧ fraugwinska ✧ minkdelovely ✧ sugoi-writes ✧ macabr3-barbi3 ✧ synamartia ◞

coven's notes ┊ ◜ All featured works belong to the Wives Coven! Please do not copy or repost on any other website without permission! Individual content warnings will be provided at the beginning of each story! This master list will be updated daily with a new story from one of us linked below the cut. MDNI! This is an explicit event, and we check every interaction to ensure this does not happen. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked immediately, no questions asked! It makes every single one of us uncomfortable for a number of reasons, so please respect our wishes and don't do it! ◞

week 1 ┊ ◜ Ride ✧ Carpe Noctem ✧ Mirror, Mirror ✧ Joyride ✧ Anonymous ✧ Not Done Yet ◞

Daddy ✧ hazelfoureyes ✧ Human!AU: RadioDust Somnophilia ✧ fraugwinska ✧ RadioApple Lingerie ✧ minkdelovely ✧ RadioApple Car Sex ✧ sugoi-writes ✧ RadioApple Gloryhole ✧ macabr3-barbi3 ✧ RadioApple Femdom ✧ synamartia ✧ Adam x Afab!Reader

week 2 ┊ ◜ Amen ✧ Rite Of Passage ✧ Ripe ✧ Guyliner ✧ Yours, Mine, Ours ✧ Need A Hand ◞

Body Worship ✧ hazelfoureyes ✧ Lucifer x Fem!Reader Ritual ✧ fraugwinska ✧ Lucifer x Reader Biting ✧ minkdelovely ✧ Alastor x Reader Dacryphilia ✧ sugoi-writes ✧ AdamsApple Body Swap ✧ macabr3-barbi3 ✧ RadioApple Mutual Masturbation ✧ synamartia ✧ Alastor x Afab!Reader

week 3 ┊ ◜ Handled ✧ Metanoia ✧ Revelations ✧ Coming Soon ✧ Bluetooth Bogie ✧ No Strings Attached ◞

Handcuffs ✧ hazelfoureyes ✧ RadioApple Monster Fucking ✧ fraugwinska ✧ RadioApple Genderswap ✧ minkdelovely ✧ RadioApple Threesome ✧ sugoi-writes ✧ Rosie + RadioApple [ ON HOLD ] Dirty Talk ✧ macabr3-barbi3 ✧ Vox x GN!Reader Breeding ✧ synamartia ✧ Adam x Afab!Reader

week 4 ┊ ◜ Proffer ✧ Broadcast A Spell On Me ✧ Sanctuary ✧ Lips Of An Angel ✧ No Mercy ✧ 2 A.M. ◞

Cuckolding ✧ hazelfoureyes ✧ Alastor x Afab!Reader Phone Sex ✧ fraugwinska ✧ Alastor x Afab!Reader Size Kink ✧ minkdelovely ✧ RadioApple Face Fuck ✧ sugoi-writes ✧ RadioApple Hate Sex ✧ macabr3-barbi3 ✧ Adam x Reader Rebound Sex ✧ synamartia ✧ Adam x Afab!Reader

week 5 ┊ ◜ Medicine ✧ Stake A Claim ✧ Pollination Of Angel Dust ✧ Attention ✧ Tethered ✧ Coming Soon ◞

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[best-seungkwality]

morning conversations gone wrong (or right?)

pairing: roommate!hazel callahan x female!reader

contains/warnings: college!au drabble (is this considered a drabble), fluff, kinda ooc hazel?, not proofread bc again, my mantra is live fast die young bad girls do it well

word count: 1k

author's yap notes: this has been sitting in the drafts for the longest time ugh i hope it's cute bc i thought it was cute bye i love this prompt for hazel and supposedly ruby's tslocg character ash. also, happy new year <33

would like to give credits for the dividers: © saradika, magnusthemes here in tumblr!

The air outside the sorority house where the party of the month was held was cool, carrying a hint of morning dew that left one's skin tingling. It was 6 am already, and all the partygoers were either sprawled out somewhere in the house or stumbling over to a nearby store or home.

You were, amusingly, the latter.

Hazel walked a little ahead of you, hands stuffed in her jacket's pockets, posture quite stiff. She was always like this whenever she was nervous about something, and right now, you knew why.

"You didn't have to fetch me and walk me back, Haze," you slurred, leaning on the lamppost for a short break when you started getting dizzy. She raised an eyebrow at you, smiling at the irony of what you just said.

She waited for a while for you until the two of you could start walking back to your shared dorm again. She glanced back for a moment, slowing down so that you could keep up. "Could've fooled me when you almost fell into the punch bowl when I arrived."

You held up a finger, "Okay, that wasn't my fault. It got in the way when I was dancing!"

Hazel snorted, probably unable to hide it at how ridiculous you sounded, but didn't say anything else. You could feel the small smile playing on her face that she hid from you. It made your chest feel tighter than any alcohol could ever affect you.

You two continued to walk in silence for another block, the familiar tension increasing between you until the time came for it to snap. She kept avoiding your very obvious stare, looking anywhere as long as it wasn't you. That was when you stopped, running to the middle of the road, declaring, "Okay, that's it."

Your roommate froze, spinning around, and you saw confusion flashed across her face. "What are you doing? Come back here!"

"Nope!" you huffed and crossed your arms, planting your feet firmly on the ground. "Not until you tell me!" The alcohol was really making you too bold and playful for your own good.

Hazel started to go closer to you, nervousness obviously replacing every emotion in her features. "Tell you what? C'mon, y/n, get back here!" The pink blush creeping up face betrayed her, and you knew she knew what you were talking about. Even the pitch of her voice had gone slightly higher.

"That you like me!" you said matter-of-factly. "I'm not moving until you stop beating around the bush and confess!"

She blinked a couple of times like you had just transformed into an alien. You only gave her a silly smile when she asked, "Are you serious?"

"I'm not moving, am I?"

The street was empty that Saturday morning, and you could tell Hazel was thankful for that at least. The streetlights had already closed, giving way to the warm, natural sunlight enveloping the surroundings.

She then took a hesitant step toward you, brows furrowing, but you held your ground. She shakily reminded you, "You're drunk." She wanted to be firm with you, but there was a slight waver in her tone that she couldn't hide from you at that moment.

You cock an eyebrow in response. "I'm drunk but not stupid— and I'm still certainly aware!" You pouted at her small, skeptical frown. "Okay, maybe a little less aware than normal— but I know when someone's into me! The way you act around me says it all. You're not exactly that subtle."

Hazel finally let out a hand and ran it through her hair, another nervous tic you had memorized by now. She walked towards you and reached out, trying to coax you to go back to the sidewalk. "C'mon, n/n, let's go. I don't want you to get hurt."

You didn't budge once again. "Not until you admit it~"

She groaned out load, putting her face in her hands. "Why does it even matter?" she called out, a bit frustrated based on the redness of her face that cold morning. "You're drunk; you won't remember this when you wake up."

"I like you, Hazel," you suddenly told her, catching her off-guard.

You two stayed silent again for some time, unmoving, even when a motorcycle had passed by, beeping at you. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and for a second, you thought she was going to deny once again, skirting around the truth like she always did. But then, she looked at you, as if staring past your eyes and straight into your soul. Her expression was soft and vulnerable, in a way she had never let you see before.

"Fine," she whispers, closing the distance between the two of you, "I like you, okay? I've liked you since the day we met at the dorms. You're so nice and random, and you accepted me and introduced me to a new world. I like it when you steal my hoodies, but you know I would punch someone else who would do that. Ever since our moving in day, you've been the best part of every day in my life, which scares me so much because I don't wanna mess up what we have. You're also one of my best friends now..."

Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting that kind of confession. It was cold outside, but the heat from the adrenaline and your adoration for Hazel made that disappear that completely.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" you teased, but voice softer to assure her that it was out of affection.

Hazel rolled her eyes, but you knew there was no sarcasm behind it when you saw her familiar giddy smile. "You're so insufferable, y/n."

"Yet you like me~" you sang, holding out your hand this time for her.

She smiled, taking it and lacing your fingers together, "Are you done being dramatic now? Can we go?"

"I'm good now," you told her, planting a soft peck on her cheek.

Hazel shook her head, a bigger smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible. Thank goodness I like you."

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Sheriff!Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Summary: You have a system, and it's worked perfectly until now. But in this dusty Western town, Sheriff Nanami Kento is making things...complicated.

By day, you're the town's sweet schoolteacher, loved by all. By night? You're the very secret that drives Nanami to sleepless nights and relentless pursuits.

You're drawn to each other, so it makes keeping your worlds separate a dangerous game that you can't help but play.

Rating/CW: slow burn romance, mild intoxication, brief violence, cowboy activities?, fluff, suggestive content, eventual smut, angst, explicit sexual content (eventually). MDNI!

WC: ~12k (strap in, I guess lol)

Author notes: Hello! It's finally here! I had so much planned for this story that I had no choice but to break it into parts. I struggled a little because there was a lot more world-building than I expected, but I'm proud of the result. This will be a slow burn, so please don't expect any smut right off the jump, lol.

Thank you so much, @pmpmyread @rahuratna, not only for looking this over, but for your advice and support! And thank you all for your motivation as I put this together!!

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself (image from pinterest) | Divider: @anitalenia @saradika network tag: @pixelcafe-network

JJK Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Part Two

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The saloon door creaks open, letting in a blast of scorching summer air that does little to freshen the stale interior. Nanami steps inside, the cool dimness a refreshing difference from the blazing afternoon sun previously on his back. It smells familiar—scents of whiskey, tobacco, and sweat wrapped around camaraderie like an old, worn blanket.

Tired eyes flicker up from cards and empty glasses, recognition dawning on weather-beaten faces. A chorus of solemn nods greets him, a silent salute to their town’s protector. Nanami returns each nod mechanically, his own gaze carefully schooled to hide the bone-deep weariness that threatens to consume him.

His leather boots, caked with the dust of another fruitless chase, thud heavily against the worn floorboards. Each step feels like a defeat, a reminder of always arriving too late or right before his goal slips through his hands, touching his fingertips like a tease.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles as he plops onto a stool, the wood creaking under his weight. “The bottle, preferably.”

The young bartender—who he knows means well—sends a knowing smirk that sets Nanami’s teeth on edge. How many times has he found himself here, drowning his frustrations in amber liquid? Far too many, he thinks, as a tall glass of whiskey appears before him like a mirage in the desert.

Nanami snatches the Stetson hat from his head, slapping it onto the bar with a force that sends a small cloud of dust into the air. His fingers, calloused from years of handling a gun and reins and rope, curl around the glass, lifting towards the bartender in question. The young man simply shrugs as he cleans a cup with a dirty white towel.

“You drank an entire bottle two days ago, Sheriff. Gotta save some whiskey for the rest of us.”

Nanami doesn’t offer a remark because he has been drinking a lot more lately. While he’s never been one to be too many sheets to the wind, lately, consuming until his vision is fuzzy seems to turn off his thoughts. He takes a generous sip, the whiskey burning a familiar path down his throat but doing little to ease the sting of failure. As he watches the strong alcohol slosh in its glass, he gets lost in its color. The flaxen hue morphs into the fluttering of long lashes and mocking eyes, of a form quick and nimble—always just out of reach.

“You’ll catch ‘em eventually, Sheriff,” the boy offers, more out of habit than conviction. He’s seen Nanami here too many times, that frustrated look etched on his face, chasing something far too fast for him.

Nanami huffs an admonishing chuckle. “Maybe,” he concedes, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. “Or maybe I’m chasing the wind.”

He takes another swig, the alcohol doing little to dispel the sour taste of defeat or replace the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of justice served. But it’s all he has right now. As the waning daylight stretches long and hazy into the sky, somewhere out there, a thief laughs at the law’s futile efforts—at his futile efforts.

He downs the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass on the counter and ignoring the eyes of patrons who dart up to him from the mild disturbance.

“More,” he demands, sliding the glass across the counter to the bartender. As he watches the whiskey pour, he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s lost more than just a criminal in this endless game of cat and mouse. His integrity, his purpose, his peace of mind—all sacrificed on the altar of justice. And for what? A town that still suffers, and a thief who dances just beyond his grasp.

While the whiskey offers no answers, it at least dulls the ache of what he can’t achieve. But that comes at a price. As his mind fades from the present, it ruminates on the past. On how he grew increasingly disillusioned with his responsibility to protect. It broods on that fateful day when a bullet tore through his dear friend’s body, losing momentum enough to strike Nanami’s badge with a dull thud—a cruel reminder of how close he’d come to joining Haibara, and how utterly he’d failed to protect him.

For a time, he disappeared, carving a new life miles away on his family’s ranch. It was quiet there, peaceful and free of the failure he feels now on a daily basis. But eventually…it wasn’t enough. It was one too many desperate souls who stumbled upon his doorstep, knowing that he would be the only one to help, that he finally decided to come back.

Not that it’s made any difference.

Nanami’s reputation precedes him—the best sheriff this side of the state, a lone wolf who gets results. His name alone makes outlaws think twice before darkening his town’s doorstep. Or at least, it used to.

These past few months, a shadow has been making a mockery of him. A bandit, cloaked in night and silence, slips through his fingers like smoke. Jewels, coins, and the like—all vanish under the cover of darkness, present one morning and gone by the time the sun rises again.

The most maddening part? It’s a woman. He’s caught glimpses—the curve of a hip, a mask of charcoal smudged behind alluring eyes, a whisper of a deep laughter on the wind. She’s a riddle wrapped in black leather, a ghost that haunts his waking hours and torments his dreams.

In all his years, he’s never encountered a more elusive creature.

He lifts his glass, ready to down the contents and ask for more when the rays of sun catch, making the amber gleam like a beacon. The flash of light makes him turn to the saloon’s grimy windows, eyes squinting against the sudden blinding glare.

That’s when he sees you.

Framed by the dusty window pane, across the street, you stand in the golden rays, a vision that seems to part the haze of whiskey and self-pity that’s been clouding his mind. Your smile always seems to make his breath catch; it’s warm and genuine and lights up your face when your smooth lips curl at anything you hear. Right now, he sees it as you bid farewell to your students. They swirl around you like an autumn breeze, their laughter permeable through the glass.

The pink-haired boy—Yuji—who loves to follow Nanami around, wobbles from around the schoolhouse, both hands on the reins of your beautiful Palomino Morgan mare, Buttercup, as he yells to you with a toothy smile.

Nanami blinks, realization slicing through his slightly alcoholic haze like a sharp knife. He’s lost track of time, nearly forgetting his daily ritual that you both share. With a muttered curse, he pushes away from the bar, throwing a few coins on the wood and leaving the half-empty glass behind.

The sudden brightness of the outdoors makes him wince, eyes adjusting to the shift, but never leaving your form. With a soft click of his tongue, Nanami’s handsome chestnut stallion, Flint, nickers at his approach on the side of the saloon, nuzzling his master’s cheek as Nanami strokes his mane and grabs his reins. The horse’s hooves kick up small clouds of dust with each step, matching the steady rhythm of Nanami’s spurs. As he crosses the dusty road, he hides his gaze beneath the shadow of his Stetson to take you in fully.

Nanami’s seen many pretty women in his lifetime. Delicate desert flowers that bloom and wither with the changing seasons. And for the sake of not being the hopeless romantic that Deputy Gojo makes him out to be, you are different. From the moment he laid eyes on you, stepping off that dusty stagecoach with determination set in your jaw and hope shining in your eyes, he knew you were something else entirely. It took him weeks to even speak to you.

Your hair, usually neatly pinned back for teaching, has come slightly loose after a long day with energetic children. A few curly strands dance in the hot breeze, catching the sunlight. Your dress, modest but well-fitted, flows down your body in pale blue, the hem slightly dirty from the grass and dirt. You stand with a posture that commands attention—an undeniable grace in the way you move and Nanami is victim to the call of your hips when they sway.

There’s a smudge of chalk on your cheek, dusty white against smooth brown skin that glows in the sun, and the slight furrow in your brow makes the side of his lips flinch to fight a smile. You’re tired—happy to have another day with children, but ready to get home and relax. You’ll probably take a bath, brush Buttercup’s mane, and try a new pie recipe. It’s little details about you that he’s learned over the years since you moved here, the small moments you’ve both shared that seem to make his heart pound faster than what it should when he’s near you.

Your beauty isn’t just the curve of your cheek or the curl of your lashes. It’s the gentle patience in your voice as you help a struggling student. It’s in your laugh, rich and uninhibited, ringing through his ears when he has the blessing to be near you. It’s in the fire that burns in your voice from ranting about yet another student leaving school to help his family’s farm, a passionate frustration that both terrifies and mesmerizes him.

The sun in this small town is unforgiving, but it paints you in hues of amber and gold, careful with its rays so as not to burn you. Nanami realized a long time ago that ‘pretty’ doesn’t begin to cover you. You’re breathtaking, in every sense of the word. A force of nature wrapped in pale blue calico and lace, stealing his breath and his weary heart with each passing day.

You ruffle Yuji's hair, taking the reins from him and nudging his shoulder to move him along, smiling as he takes off down the street towards his home. Sensing his approach, you finally turn to meet his gaze.

For a moment, Nanami feels exposed. Surely you can’t see the slight cloudiness in his irises from the whiskey? Hopefully, you can’t smell the alcohol that carries in the wind from his breath. Your smile only widens, a hint of knowing in your eyes, and his heart skips in his chest, missing a beat.

“Sheriff,” you greet him, a harmonious voice carrying a note of warmth that bubbles like hot oil in his belly. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

Nanami clears his throat, fighting the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Never,” he manages, one hand resting on his horse’s flank.

“Still in the whiskey?” you tease, lifting an elegant brow. “My, my Sheriff, I didn’t imagine you to be the man.”

It’s easy for you to slice him open and leave him exposed to the open air, vulnerable. Nanami has never been one to be caught by surprise, but you always have him on his toes. In a gesture as old as the West itself, Nanami reaches up and removes his Stetson, holding it respectfully to his chest.

It’s a mechanical response, born from years of ingrained politeness from parents that have long gone, but it’s also more than that. The removal of his hat is an unspoken apology, a show of respect, and a moment of vulnerability all rolled into one.

He falters, unsure and throat tight as he struggles for something to say. To prove to you that he’s a good man and not the drunkard he feels like the mornings after a failed chase. He’s sure he looks like a schoolboy caught in mischief. But as he opens his mouth to defend himself, you chuckle, a rich timbre that makes the bubbling in his belly drip in thick rivulets down his pelvis.

“I’m only teasin',” you insist, stroking Buttercup’s mane, a mischievous smile doing little to help Nanami’s resolve.

Relief washes over Nanami’s face and he visibly relaxes, still not used to just how much you kid with him when you’re both together. He can’t bring himself to answer you or admit that drinking was exactly what he was doing. So he simply clears his throat, offering a gentle pat to your horse.

“Shall we?” he offers, moving to help you mount.

You nod, holding your breath as Nanami’s strong hands encircle your waist. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifts you onto Buttercup’s back, watching to ensure you’re secure before returning to his own horse. He swings himself up onto the saddle with ease, sliding his Stetson on carefully parted blonde locks. Side by side, you begin the ride home, your horses falling into a comfortable trot.

You never speak much, content to bask in your surroundings as you both walk together, but to him, just being close is everything he could ask for. He wishes he could whisk you up onto his horse and nuzzle his nose into the soft skin of your neck as you recall your day. He wishes he could smell the lavender soap you bathe with and the rosemary oil from your silky strands that he’s seen you buy at the general store. When he’s around you, he wishes for so much—he wants.

But an unmarried woman and man, both of position no less, would only garner gossip that he refuses to make you the center of. And his job is a dangerous one, filled with brutality and misery, of justice that seems to never be fulfilling, and he won’t be a man that leaves you in pain when he’s unable to come home.

As you both walk, the familiar sounds of the town surround them—the distant laughter of children, the creak of wagon wheels that pass them on the dirt road, the rhythmic sounds of hoofbeats and the occasional jingle of Nanami’s spurs, the smell of fresh-baked bread that floats in the cooling breeze, mingling with the earthy scent of dust and grass.

“How were the children today?” Nanami asks, trying to break through the self-inflicting resignation that clouds his mind.

You smile, launching into a story about Yuji's latest escapade with a frog in the classroom. Nanami listens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagines the always enthusiastic boy causing a fuss. He marvels at the way your eyes light up when you talk about your students, the passion evident in every word.

As you speak, Nanami can’t help but think of all the times over the years he’s wanted to ask for more. To invite you for dinner, to teach you to shoot on the acres of his ranch, to ask for a dance at the town social when you’re sitting alone, clapping along as Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara scuttle wildly in the lantern-lit barn. The words have been on the tip of his tongue countless times, but he always swallows them back. Content to tell himself he’s doing something noble even as every fiber of his being screams the opposite.

Your laughter pulls him from his thoughts, guttural and melodic in the air, and he realizes he’s missed part of your story. It feels like a crime to not be fully in your presence.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, feeling the flush return on his cheeks. His mind has only wandered off for moments, but already your house is in view, the front door signaling another end to a conversation with you. Another walk over, another day done. But you’re safe, and for now, that’s enough for him.

“Sheriff, do you actually listen to me when I speak?” you begin, playful in your accusation.

“Of course I—”

“Or you just like hearing me speak?” you interrupt, a smirk growing, mirth sparkling in beautiful eyes that always make his throat dry. “I didn’t realize my voice was so alluring.”

Nanami chuckles softly, dismounting Flint when you reach the gate on the side of your one-story house. “I’m not sure I can answer truthfully, ma’am.”

You hum, pursing your lips as you smooth the invisible wrinkles off your dress. He refrains from tracing the movement of your hands as they ebb and flow generous curves that rest beneath the fabric. “So you just like me then?”

I do.

Is what he wants to answer. Because he wants, and wants, and wants.

Instead, he guides you down from Buttercup, savoring the meat of your waist between his fingers, the warmth of your body in his hands. He waits patiently as you guide her through the gate and inside the stable behind your house. When you return, he can’t help but note the subtle disappointment in your eyes, the way one side of your lip pulls in as you bite into it. He wonders if his own face conveys the same, if you can see the subtle sag in his shoulders of having to leave you so soon.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, eyes simmering with what he wants to think is hope.

“Because I like to hear you speak,” he unwittingly teases, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ma’am.”

As he moves to mount his horse, you’re transfixed by the fluid grace of his movements. He places one scuffed boot in the stirrup, strong corded hands gripping the saddle horn as he swings himself up and onto the Flint’s back like it’s nothing.

Atop his chestnut stallion, Nanami cuts an impressive figure. His sheriff uniform fits him perfectly. A tailored deep blue shirt with long sleeves rolled to his elbows and tucked into denim around a lean waist. A sturdy brown leather vest creased from long days under the sun emphasize his broad shoulders. On one side of his chest rests a gleaming tin star, a symbol of authority and responsibility with a bullet-sized dent beneath the words that signify him. On his left hip, a lasso is coiled neatly, ready for action at a moment’s notice. On his right, his gun rests in its leather holster—a weapon you’ve seen him use a few times—and a constant reminder of the dangers he faces to keep the town safe.

The late amber light casts a warm glow over his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes—a man who’s seen both laughter and hardship. Laughter he gives you when he can, hardship he refuses to indulge. His Stetson sits low on his brow, casting a shadow over umber eyes that make his gaze seem even more intense as he looks down at you.

No matter how many times you are both together, you are always struck by how handsome Nanami is. Rugged and weather-worn, yet with a gentleness in his eyes and kindness in his warm voice that makes your heart flutter. He’s the embodiment of everything a cowboy should be—strong, capable, and undeniably attractive.

As if sensing your admiration, he clears his throat loudly, dramatically, the corners of his lips twitching as you blink back to the present.

You retaliate in the only way you know how. “And stop calling me ma’am, as if we haven’t known each other for a few years.”

You insist on this every single time the title slips past his lips. And like every time before, Nanami smiles softly, reaches up, fingers grasping the brim of his Stetson, and tips his hat to you in a gesture that’s both gallant and a little playful.

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, mouth pulling into a small smile, heart beating like a drum in your chest, before you huff. “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He watches you enter your home, waiting until the door closes behind you before clicking his tongue and shifting his weight, setting Flint into motion. The ride back to his office seems longer somehow, the town sounds a little dimmer as he gets closer, and the alluring smell of fresh bread he noted on the way to your house is now replaced with an enticing whisper of more whiskey now that you’re no longer by his side.

The church bells chime softly as you settle into your usual pew, absentmindedly picking lint off your lavender Sunday dress. You nod politely to Mrs. Watson, the baker’s wife, as she shuffles past with a hand on her youngster’s shoulder. Your eyes, soft and inviting to all who meet them, scan the congregation with practiced nonchalance.

Pastor Roberts steps up to the pulpit, black hair slicked with too much pomade, enormous silver rings on too many fingers, his voice booming through the small church. “Before we begin, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to our new railroad station fund. And I’d like to give a very special mention to Mrs. Thompson, whose generous donation has brought us significantly closer to our goal. Your generosity truly embodies the spirit of our little community.”

The crowd breaks into genuine praise and applause. Mrs. Thompson, always seated in the back pew in her faded but clean dress, ducks her head modestly with a sheepish smile. Your heart clenches in despair, knowing she works grueling shifts at the general store just to make ends meet, her children practically raised by her neighbors. You’re sure that she’s only going above and beyond so her husband, who works many miles away, can come home often. She probably has nothing left—you just know it—and the thought makes your blood boil.

“Now, regarding the final sum we need,” the pastor continues, clearing his throat, “I’m sure we can count on our more…fortunate members to help us reach our goal.”

From the front pew, Mrs. Jones pipes up, her haughty voice carrying over the congregation. “Oh, we’d love to help next time, Pastor! We would’ve contributed more, but we had an unexpected expense with some…essential purchases this past week.”

She adjusts the luxurious new fur draped over her shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the irony of her words. You glare at the offensive garment, boiling blood now thickening with unquestionable anger.

Like so many other wealthy families in this town, the Jones are always eager to flaunt their excess, parading their luxury with heartless disregard for those who sacrifice their last penny for the common good. Content to take what they want, they turn a blind eye to those who truly need help, their indifference as cold as the coins they keep to themselves.

To others like them, poverty is a personal failing. In their minds, if people like Mrs. Thompson would try harder, work longer, or simply stop being sad and hungry out of sheer will, they too could reach the heights of wealth and respect. Preaching a gospel of bootstraps and self-reliance, willfully ignorant of the walls that keep the poor trapped.

Stepping foot in this sweltering church each Sunday is a test of your patience and resolve. But, you push through, hidden behind a mask of piety. As the pastor’s words fade into a monotonous hum, your attention shifts to the whispered gossip around you, ears poised for information that might prove useful. If Mama was still alive, she’d probably scold you if she knew your true intentions.

“Shameful,” Mrs. Clark mutters to her friend, her tone leaking with disdain and disbelief. “The Jones had enough for that fancy social at their house last week and an entire shipment of new furs, but not enough for something that we were all asked to contribute to? Just shameful, I tell you.”

“And here’s Mrs. Thompson giving what little she has just so her man can come home more often.”

You shake your head as you pretend to join in the gossip, your resolve hardening by the second.

Bingo.

After the service, you linger, making small talk with a widow about her new rhubarb pie recipe, when you spot your target.

“Oh, Mrs. Jones,” you call out, your voice dripping with misplaced sweetness. She turns around to face you, regal in cosmetics, a shade too bright, her fur sitting nicely on her neck even as she sweats like a sinner. “I meant to tell you earlier. Your fur is lovely.”

Mrs. Jones preens, her chest puffing like a peacock, basking in the attention. “Why thank you!” she gushes, dripping with false modesty. “Got them fresh last week. I would love for you to see the rest when I’m back in town. Jimmy and I leave for Millbrook and we’ll be gone for a week or two. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who appreciates fine things.”

You offer a small smile, excitement filling your body of your plans unfolding before you. “You’ll surely be missed. I do hope you have a wonderful time.”

She beams again, red lipstick cracking down the middle. “Make sure you stop by when we return, won’t you?”

You do stop by, but it’s a day after the Jones leave, a shadow among shadows. Buttercup leans into your touch when you brush a gloved hand along her glossy mane. You hop on her back, clicking your tongue to urge her into the night.

It’s further out of town, which makes this better for you—the fewer eyes, the better. The Jones estate looms ahead, dark and silent. You leave Buttercup a few yards away, patting her side as she lowers her head to graze. “I’ll be right back, girl. Just wait for my call.”

You circle to the back of the Jones’ house, glaring at the clean paint and beautiful greenery. A flickering light from a first-floor window catches your attention, and you duck down on impulse—the night watchman, no doubt. The Jones have enough money but spend too excessively to afford a maid. While this is a hindrance you can easily deal with, it’s still a thorn in your side. Patience has always been your ally, but tonight, it’s tested.

You know the town’s law enforcement, led by Sheriff Nanami, has been increasing patrols around wealthy homes because of your activities. The thought of him potentially catching you always sends a confusing concoction of thrill and dread through your veins.

Still, you wait, hidden in the shadows and the lush greenery around you, watching the guard’s routine. He leaves every ten minutes to patrol the house, returns, and scratches the sparse hair of his beard before plopping in his chair. His yawns grow more frequent as the night wears on, but he seems to alert himself with each distant noise. It takes a few more patrols and a few deep breaths to soothe your anxiety when you think you hear hoofbeats in the distance, but eventually, he settles one final time, his chin dropping to his chest as he dozes off, and you make your move.

A few windows over, a trellis catches your eye—perfect. Years of practice have taught you to distribute your weight evenly to avoid creaks as you climb the lattice. At the second-story window, you pause, listening. From your vantage point, the only source of light dimly from the living room below is the guard’s open door. The sound of his distant snores sets you back in action.

With ease, you manipulate the window latch, easing it open slowly to avoid any squeaks. You slip inside, your feet silent as they land on a plush carpet. The lavishness is an immediate assault on your senses—the air tinged with rose and peppermint, your eyes widening at the guest bedroom walls covered in paintings and deer heads. You grimace. Extravagant niceties that those less fortunate would give their soul for the value.

You pause at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning the house around you for anyone else, ears straining for any sound from the guard below or, worse, the approach of patrol outside. Satisfied, you ghost through well-decorated hallways towards the master bedroom. Without a moment to waste, you scan the ornate space. You know to secure your exits, and your entrances, and you smirk when you spot a sturdy chair on the other side of the room.

Silently, you wedge the chair under the doorknob, its back legs lifted slightly off the ground. It’s not the best, but it should buy you precious time if needed. You turn back to the master bedroom, eyes narrowed as you move on to your next step.

You’ve seen it all before, and no matter what, they keep their valuables in the same predictable places. A bookshelf with too much space that you can push against to open a second compartment. A floorboard slightly elevated than the rest. But for the Jones, it’s the garish family portrait above their bed—the same one Mrs. Jones boasted about at church weeks ago. Another unexpected but essential expense.

Your fingers work quickly as you carefully remove the painting, revealing the gleaming safe behind it. You press your ear against the cool metal, your fingertips ghosting over the dial. With precision, you begin to turn it, listening intently for the telltale clicks of the tumblers falling into place.

First to the right, slow and steady. Click. Back to the left, past the first number. Click. Right again, slower this time, feeling for the slightest resistance. Click.

Your breath catches as the final tumbler falls into place, heart racing with the promise of success as you slowly turn the handle. The safe door swings open with a satisfying creak, and inside, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, sits your prize. Stack of crisp bills and glittering jewels, a physical manifestation of the good that they can do in the right hands.

As you transfer the wealth into your satchel, a floorboard creaks downstairs. You freeze, every muscle in your body taut as a bowstring, lungs seizing in your chest. You hear the rustle of clothing—the guard stirring in his chair. It feels like seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait, hand hovering over the gun on your hip. Just as your lungs scream for air, his snoring resumes, and you exhale slowly, your racing heart gradually steadying.

You’re hyper-aware of every sound as you work. The whisper of the bills, the soft clink of jewels—each seems magnified in the stillness of this gigantic house. You’re nearly finished, only two more stacks, when another creak echoes through the house, this one closer, more deliberate. There’s no settling floorboards from a new house or snoring night guard.

Someone’s here.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggles violently, a voice on the other side booming through the previously silent house. You know the voice anywhere, one that haunts both your waking hours and your dreams.

Your heart picks back up, ice water filling your veins as the hairs on your neck stand up straight, but your hands remain steady as you gather the last of the valuables and ease the safe closed. Even in the face of being caught, you have to remain calm. It’s what’s kept you unnoticed and alive this long.

You replace the painting, your eyes already scanning the room for escape routes. You can easily go back out through the window, but the trellis you came upon is in the guest bedroom a few doors over. The jump from this window won’t be damaging, but it’ll hurt, and you don’t have time to use your rope to help you down.

Banging erupts against the door, the wood jumping from the force of the assault. “Sir! I’m here!” The night guard’s voice joins in beneath the noise, and you hear his hurried gait up the stairs.

You don’t have time for schematics. Time’s up. You throw the satchel around your shoulder and bolt for the window, only seconds before the door frame splinters from the strength of two men, the chair tumbling across the floor.

“Freeze!” A deep baritone barks, harsh and volatile, but you’re already halfway out the window, your leather boots pressed to the paneling, your hands holding you up like a spider monkey. You can’t help but pause, your wide-brimmed hat and black bandana obscuring most of your features. Coal-smudged eyes, their true color blending with the blackness surrounding them, meet the gaze of the man before you. He’s never been able to get a photo or any sort of evidence from you, not in times like these. He’ll never know who you are. But you know exactly who he is.

Sheriff Nanami Kento stands in the moonlit room, his stance wide and authoritative. Protector of the town, your number one purser, and a man who, despite your best efforts, has made a permanent home in your thoughts.

Mysterious mahogany eyes, usually kind and warm when they look at you during the day, now burn with determination and anger. That gun that you’ve seen him use to shoot targets and make Yuji laugh now points directly between your eyes.

As you look at him—the tension in his broad shoulders as they rise and fall beneath his shirt and vest, the dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights chasing your shadow—a pang of guilt slithers down your chest. Maybe if you take a small break with your escapades, he could get some sleep. You hate it when he’s tired, especially when you’re the cause.

But these thoughts are dangerous. Over the years, you’ve let him get too close, allowed him to see much of the real you, and now you’re beginning to feel the consequences.

But you can think about this another time; you’ve stayed longer than necessary. Right now, you have a job to finish. With a hitch in your breath, you drop to the ground. You land with a thud, your ankles absorbing the impact. A sharp pain shoots up your right leg, but you grit your teeth and push through it. You can’t afford to stop now.

The wild grass is thick as you sprint through the open fields, the satchel of stolen valuables bouncing heavily against your hip. Your breath slices through your lungs in short gasps, the cool night air burning in your chest. Behind you, you hear the chaos of pursuit. Nanami’s commanding voice mixes with the night guard’s confused shouts, and the sound of boots hitting the ground tells you they’ve made it out of the house.

You ignore the ebbing pain in your ankle, pushing yourself harder, faster. The grass gets taller with every inch you gain, whipping at your leather-clad legs as you tear through the field, the darkness both a hindrance and a shelter. You use the moonlight to guide you, your eyes scanning the landscape for the rock face you left Buttercup at on your way here.

A distant whinny in your ear cues you instantly. You whistle for her sharply, praying your faithful steed is close enough to hear. Her thundering hooves answer your prayers, growing louder by the second as she matches your sprint.

She appears like magic, slowing enough for you to leap onto her back and urge her into a gallop with a click of your tongue and a squeeze of your knees. With your view no longer obscured by the tall grass, you turn back to the disappearing estate, your heart dropping when you spot several riders—Nanami’s men, no doubt—headed toward you.

Gunshots pop through the air, the whoosh of silver bullets whizzing past your ears and missing their mark. But they’re getting closer. You hold your breath, absorbing the minute fear that blooms in your chest as you risk another glance behind you. Nanami is now at the front, his face grim and emboldened.

A snort from Buttercup turns your attention ahead. You fold low over her neck, your thighs contracting and relaxing in harmonious sync with her thunderous gallops. You taught yourself how to ride after Mama died, determined to do whatever it took to make it through the world. You found Buttercup then, neglected and forgotten, a mirror of your own lost soul. Now, years later, you both move as one, you anticipating her every move born of trust and time, she responds to the smallest shift of your weight as if reading your very thoughts.

Up ahead, the path narrows, winding through a rocky formation that makes you pull in your shoulders on reflex, as if you’re squeezing to fit. You guide Buttercup with a slight shift of the reins and a coo to her twitching ears.

There’s a fallen tree a few yards away, blocking most of the path and making it almost impassable. But you know what you can do. With a click of your tongue and a minuscule pressure of your knees into her sides, she reads your message immediately, huffing before launching over the thick oak in a magnificent leap. She lands with grace on the other side, hooves kicking up dirt in victory. It buys you the seconds that you need, but it won’t be enough. Nanami and his men will find their way around, and you need this chase to end. Now.

Ahead, a boulder ten times your size, with jagged edges and thick cracks, creates a fork in the path. You form an idea that is risky but will buy you the time you need to get home safely.

You guide Buttercup down the left path, your hand reaching for the pistol on your hip. You wind up the reins in one hand, squeezing the leather to hold you steady as you swiftly turn in your saddle to face the dusty world behind you. With the change in position, your hips work against the momentum of Buttercup’s stride instead of with it, and your tweaked ankle stings with every slap against her side. But you’ve practiced this before, and your balance is perfect, hand steady even as you move at breakneck speed.

Nanami and his men emerge from the curve of the path, eyes locked on you with deadly intent, and in that split second, you take your shot.

You’re not aiming to kill or even injure—your target is the lanterns that hang from each saddle horn. Amidst the bucking of your hips and the wind that whizzes past your ears, you hold your breath—forcing your heart to slow as your vision tunnels, and your finger squeezes the trigger. Before Nanami and his men can even reach for their guns, the air cracks, gunshots from your firearm hitting their mark to make the lanterns explode. It has its desired effect—their horses are startled, bucking onto their back feet as they whine in fright.

Nanami doesn’t want to, you can tell from the look in his eyes, but he has no choice but to look away. His eyes leave you as he tries his best to console his stallion and the rest of his gang. You take advantage of the chaos and twirl back around, relaxing your hand on the reins and exhaling the painful breath that was lodged in your lungs.

“Good girl,” you murmur, patting Buttercup’s neck as you coax her into a more fierce gallop and disappear into the night, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. The satchel on your hip bucks with your mare’s kicks, reminding you of a job well done.

Even with the adrenaline of success thrumming through you, your mind always wanders back to the ‘why’ of it all.

When the guilt tries to curl in your chest when you least expect it, you remember Mama’s sunken face as she divided a molded loaf of bread between the two of you. You remember the hollow eyes of your neighbors too proud to beg. You remember the day you and Mama stood outside the general store in your hometown, staring at a display of fresh fruit, its price more than your weekly earnings. You remember being shooed away by the store owner, muttering about “ill-bred women,” lowering the tone of his establishment.

That night after Mama finally fell asleep, you stole for the first time. So skinny that you could slip through the gap in Mr. Thornton’s fence of his apple orchard. You took only one—a small, slightly misshapen apple covered in dirt—fear rattling your bones at the thought of being caught. But its sweetness, shared with Mama the next morning, was everything you could have asked for.

The concept of right and wrong has always been blurred for you. You’re certainly not right in the eyes of the law, or perhaps even in the eyes of God that Mama believed in so much. But when you distribute your spoils in the dead of night, slipping money through house doors. When you see the disbelief turn to joy on a widow’s face because she can feed her children another week. When you watch a frail old man cry over a warm coat that will see him through the winter—you sleep a little better.

The world isn’t fair. You learned that lesson far too soon in your life. But in your own way, with these midnight heists and heart-pounding adventures, you’re trying to balance some sort of scale. It’s not justice…but it’s something. Something that lets you look at yourself in the mirror each morning, that calms the angry, helpless, and hungry child still living in your memories.

Tomorrow, you’ll begin distributing this wealth to those who truly need it. Yuji's grandpa will have enough to buy his grandson new clothes. Mrs. Thompson will have enough to make up for the remaining savings she gave to the church. And come Monday, you’ll greet Sheriff Nanami with a warm smile as he walks you home from a day’s work at the school, your secret safe for another day.

The thrill of every heist, the satisfaction of outwitting the law, the knowledge that you’re helping those in need—it all mingles in your veins like the sweetest whiskey you tease the Sheriff for indulging in. As the stars twinkle overhead as you wash the coal from Buttercup’s nose that hides her white markings, you allow yourself a moment of pride. It’s probably not much in the grand scheme of things, but to someone in this town, it’ll mean the world.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Jones’s place?”

“Ma says the bandit struck again, cleaned them out in seconds!”

You keep your face carefully neutral as you pick up on your student’s conversations that dance on the hot air, but you’re filled with pride and guilt. You can’t help but think of Sheriff Nanami, of the frustration you see etched on his handsome face so often. Even yesterday, those determined eyes flickered with hints of shame. For a moment, doubt creeps in, whispers in your ears like a tease, threatening to unearth everything you’ve worked for.

But then you look at Sarah’s new turquoise ribbon that compliments her wheat-colored hair as she twirls in a circle on the dusty road. You remember Tommy’s gait as he said goodbye to you just minutes ago, no longer wobbly now that his toes have room to move in new shoes.

The whispers of your students and how surprised and elated they were to find money under their doorstep make you steel yourself. Despite the risks, despite the growing complexity of your feelings—it’s always worth it.

Your life is a study in contrasts. Mornings are quiet affairs—a cup of coffee, a soothing hand down Buttercup’s mane as she eats her breakfast, the silence of an empty classroom. Afternoons explode with energy—eager questions, laughter, and the occasional disagreement amongst your students. You think of Mama, how she read to you as a child, planting seeds of knowledge that would one day bloom into your passion for teaching. It’s another way you give back—maybe some form of atonement you aren’t ready to address—but to fill another generation’s head with knowledge is a gift you wouldn’t trade.

Coming to this town years ago was an escape—from the pain of Mama’s death, from the constant fear of your life as a thief. You only meant to stay a few months, take what you needed, give it back to those like you, and vanish. But loneliness has a way of anchoring a soul.

Months became years. A solitary existence morphed into friendships with neighbors and an undeniable connection with the stoic sheriff who walks you home, an unspoken affection blossoming between you.

Years of experience have made you attuned to the whispers in town. You know how much Mr. Fletcher has hidden away in his safe. You know what date and time certain shipments come in and who they are going to.

Lately, though, whispers of a different sort have caught your ear. Tales of a hidden treasure in the old mine outside of town. Yuji talks about it almost every day, how his grandfather is convinced the treasure is real. The town’s cobbler rolls his eyes at the rumor, often grumbling about how the citizens should focus on earning revenue through hard work and no shortcuts. The more adventurous of the town have scoped the plains around this town time and time again. But it’s never bore any fruit.

Even you have dismissed it as just another local legend. But the thought nags at you, a persistent itch you can’t quite scratch. While you do not doubt the well-meaning residents of this town, they may not have your experience. They may not know how to scale a rocky mountain or where to look. But you do.

You’ve spent years justifying your actions, convincing yourself that the end justifies the means. That it’s a necessary evil in a world that turns a blind eye to suffering. To walk away now feels like the biggest betrayal of everything you’ve fought for, everything your Mama taught you about standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Even last night, you went through your routine of reiterating that what you’re doing is for a good cause.

But the twinge in your ankle when you woke up this morning. The bleariness in your eyes from little sleep. The exhaustion weighs heavily on you. The loneliness is more palpable every morning when you roll over to an empty bed. Because you can’t share the darkness of your secrets with anyone. Is it selfish to want a normal life after being exposed to the rotten core of it? To want stability, a future untainted by the shadow of your past, to want love? Or is it more selfish to continue on this path, risking everything—including the hearts of those who’ve come to care for you—for a cause that seems never-ending?

The infinite revolving of these thoughts makes you think twice about those rumors. So…what if the treasure is real? What if there’s enough hidden away to help everyone in town, to right all the wrongs you’ve seen? Enough to let you hang up this hidden life for good, to just be the schoolteacher—no more lies, no more risks, no more seeing the weight of failure in Nanami’s eyes.

Hours later, after your students have long gone, you’re atop Buttercup, having decided an afternoon ride might clear your head. You break through the bustle of town, the sun painting the landscape of open plains. As you crest a small hill, you scan the horizon, absorbing every detail with practiced observation that’s served you well in your double life.

You remember it all from your first few weeks here—a dilapidated shed outside of town, a small lake where wild animals drink from to the north. But with more focus, to the West, you spot unfamiliar rocky terrain. What catches your eye is how the rocks seem to fit together—not stacked with the random chaos of nature, but with an almost deliberate precision. It’s as if the hands of a giant stacked them long ago, their edges now overgrown and softened by wind and time.

If you were to slowly move the rocks over time, you could find an unexplored cave on the other side—not a mine like the rumors claim. Whatever it could be, it’s definitely worth investigating. You make a mental note of its location, your innate sense of direction and topography—honed by years of midnight runs—ensuring you can find it easily again.

As you make one last sweep across the landscape, your ears pick up on the stressed mooing of cows and the yells of men. After riding toward the source for a few minutes, you finally spot the commotion. Mr. Williams’ well-maintained fence is broken with wooden boards sprawled on the plains as a group of cattle amble and run free. They shuffle as fast as their heavy bodies will take them, mooing loudly in distress.

You’ve done some wrangling as a young girl, a grueling job that paid you very little to feed you and Mama, so you immediately hone in on the weak points of the fence and the patterns of the cattle’s movement.

You spring into action, clicking your tongue and squeezing your thighs around Buttercup to make her take off. The wind whips through your hair, loosening curls from your usually neat bun. As you draw closer, your heart leaps in your chest.

There, in the midst of the chaos, is Nanami. He sits on his stallion with an easy grace that makes your mouth go dry. Eyes narrowed with determination, cheekbones glossy with sweat and dirt. His vest is gone, and you note the navy long sleeve that squeezes his thick form, his forearms exposed and veiny. His strong biceps flex as he twirls his lasso, long fingers cinched tight around the base of the noose, wrist twirling in a motion you’ve thought about late at night with your fingers buried deep inside of you.

Gods, he’s handsome. Even that first day when you both met in front of the general store, Nanami reaching down to collect the books you had dropped, you knew then he would be your undoing. He has proven to be the one constant in your mind when you should be thinking about your goal.

He’s the kind of man that you could bring home to Mama, though you’d have to keep a watchful eye on her so she doesn’t flirt herself. He’s the kind of man who can work the fields and protect a town, that can fend off criminals and walk children the school, that can come home after a long day and kiss you until your eyes roll into your skull. That can grunt in appreciation from the fingernails that dig into his back, your legs wrapped around his waist as he buries himself to the hilt and—

“Need a hand, Sheriff?” you call out, shaking yourself back to reality, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. You can think about him later. Right now, that adventurous itch comes to life at the base of your spine. You love being a teacher, but you miss things like this—the thrill of the ride, the tingling sensation of a challenge, and Nanami’s presence all combine to create a heady rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Nanami’s head turns at the sound of your voice, deep brown eyes widening in surprise. The movement of his wrist stops, and his lasso plops on his head, musing perfectly parted blonde locks as the rope smacks the sides of his face. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, yes, but adoration and something more pungent that makes your skin tingle.

“Ma’am, this isn’t exactly—” he starts, but you’re already taking off.

A whistle from your lips springs Buttercup into action, galloping a wide birth around the scattered calves. You free your own rope from your saddle horn, the weight in your hands a comforting reminder of late nights practicing in your stable. You hitch up, bunching your thighs with hidden strength, twirling the lasso once, twice, feeling the perfect balance of it.

Then, with a fluid movement, you send the rope flying towards the calf closest to you. It arcs through the air before finding its mark, settling around the calf’s neck with perfect precision. You ignore the feel of Nanami’s eyes on you as you wrestle to rebellious calf back into Mr. Williams’ yard. The man himself is already releasing the rope and ushering the calf away from the fence that is slowly being repaired by his ranch hands.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Nanami asks when you pace up next to him. The lasso is still haphazard over his head, lips parted in astonishment.

“Are you implyin' that I shouldn’t know how to do that, Sheriff?” you tease, guiding Buttercup in a slow trot around Nanami and his stallion. He fumbles to correct himself, cheeks heating as he pulls at the rope around his neck and shoulders. “Should I only know teachin' and how to care for a home?”

“N-now you know that’s not what I—”

You cut him off with a sharp chuckle, making another rotation around him and his steed, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re so gullible.” He throws you a wary look, finally pulling the lasso off his body in a huff. “Now, are you gonna help me, or not?”

You and Nanami fall into sync, working in tandem to herd the cattle back into Mr. Williams’ enclosed space. It’s perfect choreography—when Nanami moves right, you’re already swinging left.

Before long, you spot a flash of white in your peripheral vision. Deputy Gojo leans against the fence, his shock of white hair practically reflective in the sun. He’s been practically absent up until this point and, unlike you and Nanami, seems in no rush to join the action. He eyes you with a charismatic smile, flirtatious in his gaze, but you’re quick to roll your eyes playfully and get back to the task at hand.

There’s a grace to Nanami’s body as he works. His hips roll with each movement of his horse, the rock back and forth, a rhythm hypnotic and alluring. The muscles in his denim-clad thighs flex as he grips his mount, powerful and thick. His face maintains his usually iron-faced composure, focused on the task, but an undeniable beauty to his concentration. The setting sun enhances his features, the shadows accentuate his strong jaw and cheekbones. A bed of sweat traces a tantalizing path down his neck, disappearing beneath a collar that’s three buttons undone.

As you drive a cow forward, Nanami is there to lasso and guide it home. The way he hands his horse, the quiet commands and clicks, the subtle shifts of his body, and the grunts that leave his form when he throws his lasso—it all speaks of a man completely in control, and you find it mesmerizing…and utterly arousing. There’s something primal and enticing about watching him move, about being in such perfect harmony with him. It’s a blaring reminder of the attraction that’s been simmering between you.

At one point, you end up riding side by side, so close that your legs brush against each other. The contact, even through the layers of your dress, is scalding. You steal a glance at Nanami, darting through the disheveled curls in front of your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. Those dark eyes are smoldering—intense with an emotion that radiates from you both and squeezes your throat tight.

As the last cow meanders through the repaired fence, you both are panting from exhaustion, guiding your horses to a slow stroll. Mr. Williams jogs towards you both, followed closely by Gojo, a lazy saunter and an ever-present mischievous look on his face.

“I had no idea you could wrangle so well,” Mr. Williams exclaims, waving enthusiastically as he reaches up and takes the reins of both your horses to lead them towards a water trough. “That was incredible. I have no idea how to repay you.”

You wave him off, trying not to preen under the praise. Gojo's incredibly rare and well-bred snow-white Quarter Horse saunters up to you, the animal indignant in his strides just as much as its owner.

“Well,” Gojo drawls, crystal blue eyes sweeping appreciatively over your form. “Didn’t think a schoolteacher had fine lasso skills. Any other skills I should know about? You can show me at the town festival in a few weeks.”

It’s undeniably forward, enough to make a dignified man turn beet red in anger and a fragile woman faint. But it’s Deputy Gojo Satoru—uncaring of the world that he feels revolves around him.

“Gojo,” Nanami snaps, harsh and biting with an undercurrent that makes your spine straighten. “For once in your life, stop pestering every woman within a few feet of you.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shrugging dismissively and patting Buttercup’s neck as she drinks. “No harm done, Sheriff. I’m sure Deputy Gojo here was just being friendly, weren’t you?” You ask, voice laden with a double meaning that makes Gojo smile warily, suddenly apprehensive. “Though I’d caution against mistaking friendliness for interest. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and end up disappointed…again.”

Gojo's jaw drops, Mr. Williams chokes on a snort a few yards away, and you hear Nanami stifle a harsh grunt that cracks on the edges.

Gojo sputters, pale white cheeks burning, his usual confidence faltering in the night air as he flaps his gills. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never been disappointed in matters of the heart.”

You hum nonchalantly, pursing your lips in disbelief. “Oh? So that wasn’t you I saw sulking behind the saloon last month? What was it you were muttering? Something about Geto turning you down for the second time?”

At the mention of Geto's name, Gojo's blue eyes widens, a squeak eeping from glossy lips. Nanami, unable to contain himself any longer, lets out a bark of laughter.

“I—that’s not—how did you—” Gojo stammers, looking between you and Nanami with wide, suspicious eyes. You simply shrug, glancing at Nanami. There’s a glimmer of amusement there, a shared moment of mirth at Gojo's expense. At some point, Gojo grows tired of entertaining you both, clicking his mouth in annoyance and taking off towards town. You snort at his retreating form, giggling with the rush of excitement of the evening.

When Mr. Williams sees you both off, the night is a cool blanket around you both. The moon sits high, a silver pendant on the velvet black sky, while the stars twinkle like scattered diamonds. For awhile, you both ride in silence, the rhythmic clop of hooves a soothing melody to your turmoil from earlier in the day. The air carries the scent of grass and wildflowers, mixing with the sweat that lingers on your skin. It’s Nanami who breaks the quiet, his deep voice a relaxing current of electricity down your spine.

“He will only take your wit as a challenge,” he muses, mildly amused.

“Gojo will forget all about me the minute Ms. Foxworth bats her eyelashes at him.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle, casting his face in a brief flash of masculine flirtation that makes your heart skip. “And Ms. Foster,” he adds, catching onto your game.

“And Ms. Chamberlain,” you continue, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Jones,” Nanami finishes, snorting to himself because she’s married, and that’s never stopped Gojo before.

Your eyes meet, scandalous realization settling over you both, and in that moment, the ridiculousness of it all bubbles up inside. Laughter erupts from you first, a released cascade of glee as your head tilts to the night sky. The sound of Nanami’s deep chuckles mingles with your giggles, creating a harmony that seems to resonate in your very bones. It feels good to laugh with Nanami. Just like any other time you spend with him. It takes your mind off the thought of leaving this town—of leaving him—forever.

The night is cool against your skin, but your chest blooms with warmth. You’re about to comment on the beauty of the star-studded sky when you notice Nanami reach into his vest pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, lips wrapping around the filter with a firm but gentle grip.

Your heart sinks, a leaden weight pulling it further down your rib cage. You’ve noticed he only smokes when he’s particularly stressed, and the sight of it now, after such a wonderful evening, makes you frown. You know it’s because of his work, the harshness he sees every day, and his relentless pursuit of the bandit—of you—only makes it worse for him. The remorse gnaws at your insides like a rabid animal.

Doing your best to mask the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you, you aim for a teasing approach. “Stressed, Sheriff?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow and hoping he can’t hear the slight shake in your voice.

Nanami pauses, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks at you with a flicker of embarrassment, highlighting the tired lines around his eyes that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips. “Ah, my apologies,” he says, moving to put it away. “The smell—”

You wave him off. “I don’t mind. Not much of a smoker when I need to relax.”

He hums but doesn’t respond, striking a match and cupping large hands around the flame. The brief light illuminates his face, casting shadows across his face. You find yourself transfixed by the way the flame reflects in his dark eyes, like embers in the night.

He takes a long drag, the tip brightening in burnt orange and gold. Nanami exhales, the smoke curling seductively from his nose and into the air, the sight more enticing than it should be. “So, when do you smoke, ma’am?”

His voice is entirely too low, entirely too deep. You playfully glare at the use of ‘ma’am’ for what feels like the nth time since you’ve known each other. You decide to be mischievous, precariously throwing caution to the wind.

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, looking up at the sky as you try to emit an air of faux innocence. Nanami looks at you cautiously, raising a dark blonde eyebrow expectantly, eyes narrowing as he picks up on the teasing tilt in your voice. “You smoke when you’re stressed. I smoke to unwind from a job well done. Preferably, after taking a good man for a ‘ride’.”

Heat simmers beneath your skin as you speak, low and husky and loaded with suggestive humor that surprises even you.

It’s an immediate effect and more satisfying than you could have ever imagined. Nanami sputters, choking on the smoke. His eyes go wide, and crimson erupts up the glimpse of open chest and neck, visible even in the moonlight, spreading to his cheeks in a way that makes you want to trace its path with your lips.

You can’t help but giggle as he coughs. “You make it too easy sometimes, Sheriff,” you say between laughs.

Nanami clears his throat repeatedly, desperately trying to regain his composure. But you catch the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile that makes you bite into your bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in deep breaths, and your eyes watch the way his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders with each inhalation.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he finally manages in a rough voice, glaring at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness that warms you from the inside out.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink, reveling in the way his breath catches again at your boldness. He shakes his head with a chuckle, turning back to the open plains in front of him.

You notice that some of the tension has left Nanami’s shoulders, his posture relaxed once more. Your guilt eases a little, knowing that, at least for this moment, you’ve managed to lighten his burden rather than add to it.

“Gojo likes trouble as much as he likes wit. Stay away from him and pick someone else.” He pauses, opening his mouth as he weighs his next words with delicacy. “I imagine you have a line of suitors with far more promise than Gojo hoping to escort you to the festival.”

Nanami’s voice is soft, almost wistful, wrapped around an overwhelming cluster of resignation that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. His eyes are fixed on the horizon as your horses walk side by side, but you can see a tightness around his mouth, a tension in his jaw that speaks volumes.

“I haven’t really paid much attention, to be honest,” you admit, surprised at his sudden remark. You try to keep your tone light and nonchalant, praying he can’t hear the slight tremor, the silent truth that threatens to spill from your lips—that the only man you truly notice is him. Every day, all the time, from sunup to sundown, it’s always Nanami Kento.

Nanami hums thoughtfully, fingering the sharp cut of his jaw. “That fellow from the saloon a few weeks back? He seemed taken with you.” He pulls in a deep drag, sunset orange ebbing to life at the tip.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The memory of that particular encounter was both amusing and exasperating. “He was three sheets to the wind, Nanami. Claimed to know my drink of choice and got it wrong when he recommended scotch, of all things.”

Nanami exhales a smoky breath, the wisps ghosting around a smirk that makes him look statuesque with the rolling plains behind him. “You prefer moonshine,” he muses, “The kind Kilmer makes, if I’m not mistaken.”

Your heart skips a beat at his casual observation. Moonshine isn’t exactly legal in town, but when the bartender Kilmer works the saloon on Wednesday nights, most of the residents ask for his prized moonshine if no deputies are around. Of all the things for him to pay attention to, your drink of choice seems like such a small, insignificant detail.

You bite the corner of your lip to keep from breaking into a wide smile, belly warm at the thought.

“Not like I can admit to that,” you tease, digging your teeth harder into your bottom lip as the simmering grows in your stomach. “Aren’t you supposed to be upholdin’ the law?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them back. You’re aware of how much pressure the sheriff places on himself. How he feels unworthy of the badge on his chest. There has never been a day in your knowing him where you felt he was undeserving. Of the town, of all of its citizens, of you. If you could turn his face to a mirror and stand by his side while you tell him just how deserving he is, you would in a heartbeat.

Nanami’s smile fades slightly, a heavy weariness etching onto his features. He takes another drag and turns his head away as he exhales. “This town is small, and times are hard. Sometimes…moonshine is all someone can afford if they need to get away from the world for a while.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours in the moonlight. “A good lawman knows when to look the other way for the sake of his people.”

It’s times like these when you admire the man Nanami is. He’s rough around the edges and stern with the law, but he’s also empathetic enough to know when some rules should be lax based on those they affect. Maybe he could think the same about you? Maybe he could understand your self-imposed noble acts and forgive you for causing him so much pain.

Nanami clears his throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “The man at the general store two months ago? He could hardly string two words together around you.”

“He was at least five years younger than me,” you counter, giggling at his persistence. “Hardly appropriate. What will the town think?”

“That you’re incredibly picky—” he starts, but you cut him off with a playful swat to his arm.

“Or maybe,” you chuckle with a playful roll of your eyes, “they’ll think I have standards. Is that so wrong, Sheriff?”

“Not at all. Though, I can’t help but wonder what those standards might be.”

Oh.

You’re immediately aware of how dangerous this conversation has become. You’ve never flirted so blatantly before, never with such clear intention. The banter between you and Nanami has always been a harmonious push and pull, as natural as breathing, even though you both treat it as a forbidden dance. But this shift now—it’s palpable, exciting, and terrifying all at once. But the night air, the lingering adrenaline from the cattle drive, that pump of electric fire that pulses through your veins when you can feel free for a moment, all of it makes you bold.

“Someone kind,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment. “Intelligent also helps, dedicated to his work and cares about the people around him.” You risk a glance, hiding beneath the curtain of your curls. Your heart races, each beat echoing the recklessness that coats your tongue with every word. “Someone who notices the little things…like a lady’s drink preference.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. It’s as if you’ve finally given a voice to the undercurrent that’s been flowing between you, transforming your ocean of subtle flirtation into something more tangible, more precarious.

Nanami’s gaze, usually so controlled, molds before your eyes. In the flickering embers of his cigarette, you see something molten, a desire that slides down your body with liquid arousal. His lips purse around his cigarette, your eyes flickering to the muscle that curls around the filter, watching with rapt attention as he inhales deeply, slowly.

When you slide your eyes up to meet his, your breath catches at the still-burning intensity. Your vision tunnels to the reflective desire in his eyes, the moonlight on his face, the tension that crackles between you like lightning before a storm. It’s almost too much, your chest tightening with still stolen breath in your lungs.

But just as quickly, he looks away, severing the connection and turning to exhale a plume of smoke into the darkness.

“He sounds like a fool.”

The tension breaks like a dam, and you find yourself choking on a surprised laugh, chortling at the full smile he shoots your way as if bashful. He seems like a flirtatious teenager, basking in the attention from his crush, and you hold on to the sight—to the way it’s making you feel.

As your laughter fades and he puts out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, the atmosphere shifts again. The sizzling lust that danced around you both softens into something more intimate, more tender.

The moonlight catches in Nanami’s hair, turning the golden strands liquid silver. No longer the pristine part he maintains, the strands fall in gentle tufts around the tops of his ears and over his eyebrows. Your fingers twitch on the reins of Buttercup, itching to reach out and brush those disheveled strands away, to feel if they’re as soft as they look.

Nanami, soft when he speaks again, almost reverent. “You’d be surprised, you know,” he murmurs, looking at you once more. “Just how many people notice you.”

His words sway in the air, loaded with meaning. You find yourself frozen, caught in the earth of his gaze, the sincerity making your throat dry. Even as your hips move with Buttercup’s trot, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of you, eyes on each other as everything else fades into insignificance.

Suspended in time and bathed in moonlight, you wish you could push a little further, draw out a confession, or make a declaration of your own. You want to stretch this moment into eternity, to live in this space where you only exist as a schoolteacher, and Nanami could put his own happiness first, just for once.

But reality intervenes, as it always does, with a painful wave of guilt that crashes over you. The weight of your secrets, of your double life, of your part in his pain, settles heavily on your shoulders like lead. So, instead of the words you long to say, you offer only a gentle smile, letting the serene silence of the night envelop you both.

As the first glimmers of the town’s lamplights come into view, you allow yourself this moment of peace. You bask in Nanami’s presence beside you, in the rhythm of the horses’ hooves, in the soft ‘plop’ of his Stetson against his back with each step. You breathe in the memory of shared laughter and adventure, storing it away like a precious treasure.

It’s dangerous—this indulgence—you know. Every shared moment, every word, every loaded glance yanks you further into a web of feelings you can’t afford to have. But as you ride side by side through the moonlight, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Not tonight.

Instead, you hold this memory close to your heart, a keepsake against the long, lonely nights ahead. It’s a bittersweet reminder of what could be, in a world where you aren’t who you are—a world that exists only in these fleeting moments under the vast, star-studded sky.

By the time you clamber up to your doorstep, Buttercup is already resting in her stable, and that terrible feeling of guilt and confusion roars to life in your chest. You wrap your hand around your doorknob before turning to look at Nanami. He’s still there, with messy hair and sweaty skin, as he reaches into his vest for another cigarette. Handsome and otherworldly and right there. He catches your stare as he places the filter between his lips, one eyebrow quirking up in concern.

“Everything alright?” he asks, the unlit cigarette dangling as he speaks. “I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”

You wish you could relish in his concern, bathe in his care, and savor the warmth that blooms in your chest. But you’re not sure you’ve even earned it.

“I’m goin’, I'm goin',” you joke, cracking the door as you step one foot inside your home, still angled to him.

“Well, hurry along then,” he insists, a gentle demand lingering beneath. He lights the cigarette, cheeks pulled in as he inhales full-chested and exhales a deep plume of smoke. Through the haze that dances around him, you find mischief as he smirks. “Ma’am.”

The laugh leaves you before you can stop it, rolling your eyes at his deliberate use of the title he knows annoys you. With a final wave, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

The laughter dies on your lips as soon as the door clicks closed and you press your forehead against the cool wood, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. The clop of Flint’s hooves slowly fades as Nanami gets further away from you, and the only thing you wish at this moment is to yank open the door and run to him. To run away from your terrifying thoughts and forget everything.

Next week, when Mr. and Mrs. Phillips leave town, you have another heist planned. It should feel promising. Another chance to do good, to make others happy at the expense of your safety. But the thought sits heavy in your stomach, the lightness you felt moments ago with Nanami leaving in a flourish.

That nagging feeling from this morning, the festering loneliness born from your decisions, finally breaks free now that you have nothing else to distract you. It makes everything so much harder now. The thrill that once drove you feels muted now, overshadowed by something else—something warm and achingly intimate that’s taken root in your chest.

You slide down to the floor, back against the door, bottom lip quivering as conflict rages like an inferno within you. Tomorrow, you’ll have to start preparing. But tonight, you can’t help but wonder if your heart is truly in this anymore.

Thanks for reading! Here’s Part Two!