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koyagifs · 2 months ago

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𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝔂

pairing: mingi x reader au: college | supernatural | genre: angst word count: 9.720k synopsis: everyday a different body. everyday a different life. everyday in love with the same girl. warning(s): mentions smoking, bad boyfriend, very toxic relationship. bad yunho and wooyoung. mingi is a simp for the reader. author note: sorry not sorry :(

Mingi hadn’t planned for this. When he first realized he was waking up in someone else’s body each day, his priorities were simple: blend in, figure out their routine, survive the day, and move on. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was manageable. He didn’t expect to stumble into anything that would shake the fragile balance he’d created for himself.

But then you happened.

At first, it was just a fleeting curiosity. You were someone who kept popping up no matter where he landed. Your smile, your laugh, the way you carried yourself—it started to stick with him, even when he moved on to another body, another life. He found himself looking for you in crowds, wondering what you might be doing, and hoping, against all odds, that the universe would align and bring him back to your orbit.

When it finally did, he wasn’t prepared.

Being near you felt like everything and nothing all at once—a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t name, but knew he wanted to hold onto. He tried to act casual, but his heart betrayed him every time you were near. The problem wasn’t just falling for you—it was knowing he couldn’t stay. Tomorrow, he'd be someone else, somewhere else, and you wouldn’t remember him.

But Mingi couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. Against his better judgment, he let himself care. Even if it hurt. Even if it was fleeting. Because with you, every borrowed moment felt like it belonged to him.

When Mingi opened his eyes that morning, it took him a moment to adjust. The light filtering through the blinds was unfamiliar, the weight of the blankets heavier than what he was used to. But that wasn’t new—this was his life now.

He pushed himself up, his limbs sluggish in a way that felt wrong. His hands. They weren’t his. As usual.

Rolling over, he reached for the phone on the nightstand, the first step in piecing together whose life he was borrowing this time. The screen lit up, and his breath caught in his throat.

The wallpaper was you.

Your radiant smile, the one he had memorized, shining back at him. But you weren’t alone. No, your arm was wrapped around the guy he was stuck in—your boyfriend.

Mingi froze, staring at the photo. His stomach twisted, a mix of guilt and nausea washing over him. He hadn’t even known you had someone in your life, let alone someone who clearly meant so much to you. He ran a hand down his face, the unfamiliar contours of another man’s jawline reminding him of his predicament.

His first instinct was to put the phone down, to shove it away and pretend he hadn’t seen it. But the truth stared back at him, undeniable. For the next 24 hours, he was this guy—the man you loved, the one you trusted.

And all he could think was how wrong it felt.

Mingi leaned back, clutching the phone tightly. He knew he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be privy to this part of your life. But he was. And for the first time since this strange cycle started, he wished he could undo it all. Because loving you was already complicated enough.

Now? It felt impossible.

───

When Mingi saw you, it was like the world shifted on its axis. You were standing at the edge of the park, waving toward him with that warm smile he had come to adore, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his heart ache. For a second, he froze, his body betraying him as if it belonged to him again, as if you were waving at him, not the man whose body he was borrowing.

He had to do a double take, the weight of reality crashing down on him like a cold wave. You’re her boyfriend today, he reminded himself, the thought laced with guilt.

He forced a smile, the one he imagined your boyfriend might give you, and waved back. Each step closer felt like walking a tightrope—one wrong move and you’d see through him. But you didn’t. You rushed up to him, your hands brushing against his as you leaned in for a quick kiss.

Mingi stiffened for a fraction of a second before he leaned into the moment, knowing he had no choice but to play the part. Your touch was gentle, familiar, and it broke his heart because it wasn’t meant for him.

“How was your morning?” you asked, your voice filled with easy warmth as you laced your fingers with his.

Mingi swallowed hard, nodding as he struggled to answer. “It was... good,” he managed, his voice steady even as his heart raced.

You didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, instead tugging him toward the coffee stand nearby. As you talked about your plans for the day, your excitement bubbling over, Mingi tried to focus, tried to memorize every detail of this moment even as it tore at him.

Because tomorrow, he’d be gone. And you’d still belong to someone else.

Mingi shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts as your voice cut through the haze of confusion that had settled over him. He blinked a few times, realizing that he had been staring at you, lost in the swirl of emotions he didn’t know how to process.

"Hello? Earth to Yunho?" You said, waving your hand in front of his face with a teasing smile, clearly unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

Mingi forced a laugh, his heart pounding in his chest. Yunho. Right. I'm Yunho for the day.

"Sorry," Mingi muttered, giving you a sheepish grin. "I just... got distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "hm well, i'm surprised you're not smoking right now. Did you finally quit?"

He glanced at you, forcing himself to meet your eyes. You were smiling, but there was a softness there, a genuine curiosity in your expression that made him feel even more like an imposter.

“Quit?” Mingi repeated, his voice a little too sharp, a little too detached. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Mingi’s heart skipped a beat when your smile widened, a playful glint in your eyes as you leaned in, going up on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. It was brief, just a fleeting moment, but it hit him like a thunderclap. He had prepared himself for this—knowing he would have to mimic Yunho’s actions, act like the man you were in love with—but nothing could have prepared him for the rush of feelings that came with that kiss.

You pulled back, still grinning, and linked your arm with his, as if the gesture was second nature. But then, the words slipped from your lips, completely catching him off guard.

“Thank god,” you said, your voice light, teasing, “I always hated kissing you because you would just taste so nasty.”

The words felt like a punch to his gut, a bitter reminder that Mingi was only pretending to be Yunho. That he wasn’t the one who got to share these intimate moments with you. The taste of that kiss, even if it was fleeting and meant for someone else, still lingered on his lips like a cruel joke.

His throat tightened, and for a second, he didn’t know how to respond. His hand clenched instinctively, wanting to pull away from the contact, but he forced himself to stay still, to play the part.

“Yeah?” Mingi forced out a laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to see I’ve cleaned up my act.”

You chuckled, completely oblivious to the turmoil under the surface. “You better have. I think I can finally kiss you without feeling like I’m about to puke.”

Mingi’s chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of your words suffocating him. It was hard to reconcile the way you spoke to him, so casually, so affectionately, with the gnawing truth that he wasn’t the one you were supposed to be with. It made the whole thing feel so painfully temporary, like a dream he’d eventually wake up from, leaving him with nothing but emptiness.

" have you seen the news baby? I'm really proud of you and wooyoung, i know how much you've been practicing "

Mingi’s stomach tightened at your words, the unexpected shift in topic almost making him forget where he was for a moment. The news? His mind raced, trying to process what you were referring to.

You smiled up at him, clearly excited, but Mingi felt a rush of panic. What had Yunho been practicing?

He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. "Uh, news? What about it?"

You squeezed his arm, your eyes sparkling. "They mentioned you and Wooyoung in the sports segment! You two have been working so hard on your routines. I know it's been tough, but look, it's paying off."

Mingi smiled, trying to mask the unease with a lighthearted tone. “Oh yeah—uh, no, I didn’t see it. I’ll make sure to talk to Wooyoung later,” he said, his words flowing easily even though his mind was spinning. He hoped it sounded convincing enough, but the truth was, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was playing a part in a story that wasn’t his.

You beamed at him, completely unaware of the internal conflict brewing inside him. “You should! I’m sure he’ll be so proud to hear how much you’ve been pushing yourself,” you said, the excitement in your voice only making Mingi feel more like a fraud.

“Yeah, we’ve been at it for a while now,” he replied, the words coming naturally enough, but there was an edge of strain in his voice.

You squeezed his arm again, leaning in a little closer, and Mingi couldn’t help but feel the warmth of your affection. He wished things were different—wished he could be the one deserving of it. But all he could do was wear this borrowed life and act like he belonged.

“I wish i could see you guys in action but i know you don't want me to embarrass you”

Mingi’s chest tightened at your words. You said them with such lightheartedness, as if teasing, but there was an undertone that made him pause. Embarrass you? Did you really think you’d embarrass him? The thought made him ache in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Mingi’s fists clenched in quiet frustration, the rage bubbling up inside him like a storm he couldn’t control. He was trapped in a life that wasn’t his, playing a part he wasn’t meant to play.

Instead, he forced his breath to steady, his heart still racing as the anger and the ache bled into one overwhelming urge. Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, his hands wrapping around you tightly, needing to feel your warmth, the pulse of life that reminded him he wasn’t completely lost in this borrowed reality.

“Come to the next one,” Mingi said, his voice low, rough with a mixture of yearning and pain. He could feel your body against his, the steady rhythm of your breath, and in that moment, everything seemed so achingly close—so impossible. “I’d love to see you there.”

His words were sincere, more so than they had been in a long time, but there was an undercurrent of desperation there that even he couldn’t hide. He wanted to believe that, for just a moment, you could see him, not as Yunho, but as someone who really wanted to share a life with you. Even if he couldn’t stay.

You tilted your head back, looking up at him, eyes sparkling with that familiar affection, unaware of the storm brewing inside him. “I’d love to,” you replied with a smile, brushing your hand over his chest in a gesture that felt so intimate, so real. “I’ll be there. You know I’ll always support you.”

And in that instant, Mingi felt the weight of it all—a love he couldn’t claim, a future he couldn’t have. But it didn’t matter. Right now, he had you in his arms, and for once, that was enough to keep him from falling apart.

───

Mingi’s eyes narrowed as he scrolled through Yunho’s phone, the light from the screen casting a cold glow on his face. Each message he passed felt like a punch to the gut. The number of girls Yunho had messaged, the flirtatious banter, the innuendos, it made Mingi’s stomach turn. But it wasn’t just that. It was you—your name kept popping up in the conversations, scattered across messages that were anything but innocent.

Mingi’s eyes burned with fury as he stared at the messages between Yunho and Wooyoung, his hands trembling with a mixture of rage and disbelief. The words on the screen were a blur, but he didn’t need to read them again to know exactly what they were saying. They were talking about you—about how stupid you were to believe in all the late-night practices, how you were just another pawn in their game.

He swallowed hard, trying to push the sick feeling in his stomach down, but it wouldn’t budge. The worst part came when he scrolled further, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the photos. Nude pictures of you—your trust, your vulnerability, turned into a joke between two people who should have known better. They were laughing at you, making fun of you like you were nothing more than an object for their amusement.

Mingi’s vision blurred, his body trembling with the sheer weight of the anger crashing through him. His hands clenched into fists so tightly, his nails digging into his palms, but the pain didn’t even register. How could they do this to you? How could Yunho—betray you like this?

He kept reading, unable to stop himself, the disgust building with every word. The way they laughed about the pictures, talking about how easily they could manipulate you, how you would just keep coming back no matter what they did. And the worst part? They thought you were nothing more than a game. They treated you like you were some toy to pass around, to laugh at, to degrade.

Mingi’s chest felt tight, like the air had been sucked out of the room. His mind raced, the voices of Yunho and Wooyoung echoing in his head, and all he wanted to do was scream, to tear everything apart, to make them feel the weight of their betrayal.

He could already imagine you, the way you must have trusted them, believed in them, thought you were loved. And they had taken that and twisted it into something ugly, something unforgivable.

“How could you?” Mingi whispered, his voice barely audible, as he stared at the screen in disbelief. The phone felt like a foreign object in his hands, the connection to a life he never wanted to be a part of. His throat tightened with the need to lash out, to make things right for you. But in that moment, he couldn’t. All he could do was sit with the rage, the helplessness, and the heartache of knowing that you, of all people, didn’t deserve any of this.

───

Mingi woke up to the sound of a different alarm, the familiar buzz jarring him from sleep. His hand instinctively reached for the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen to silence it. But as he looked at the wallpaper, a picture of a cat stared back at him—A small, irritated groan escaped his lips, a frustrated sound that escaped before he could catch it.

He pushed himself up, groaning in frustration again, running his hands through his hair, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The frustration bubbled up again as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath his feet grounding him.

" san, hurry up! We're going to be late!"

Mingi froze for a moment, the voice pulling him back to reality. San? His mind spun as he realized whose body he was in now. So that's who I'm stuck with today. He grumbled under his breath, dragging his hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts before walking towards the closet.

"San!" the voice came again, this time more insistent, and Mingi snapped out of his thoughts, his frustration boiling over once more. He slammed the closet door shut and moved toward the door. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" he muttered under his breath, trying to force the irritation down.

Mingi made his way down the staircase, his steps slower than usual as the weight of the morning pressed on him. The moment he stepped into the living room, he saw them—Wooyoung and Yunho. They were casually lounging on the couch, talking and laughing, but the instant Mingi's eyes landed on them, the irritation surged within him like a tidal wave.

Wooyoung was the first to notice, his eyes flicking up to Mingi with a mischievous glint. "Someone's in a mood today," he teased, leaning back and crossing his arms. "What’s up with you, San? You look like you’re about to murder someone."

Mingi's jaw clenched, the annoyance already building as he stepped farther into the room, trying to shake off the anger that was threatening to spill over. Of course, Wooyoung would point it out. He knew he wasn’t exactly hiding his frustration well, but it felt impossible to keep his cool when everything around him felt like a mess.

Yunho, lounging lazily beside Wooyoung, caught the tension in the air too, though he didn’t seem to care much. "What’s got you so worked up, San?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew something Mingi didn’t.

Mingi’s hand curled into a fist for a moment before he forced himself to relax, fighting against the overwhelming urge to snap. He hated that he couldn’t just be himself, that he had to pretend to be someone else when it felt like the world around him was falling apart. But the last thing he wanted was for them to know that he wasn’t really San.

" dude you with yn all day yesterday, what was up with that?" Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho in confusion.

Mingi’s stomach dropped as Wooyoung’s words cut through the silence of the kitchen. He could feel his pulse race in his neck, the tension so thick it made the air feel suffocating.

" what the fuck are you talking about? why would i spend the whole day with her?" yunho asked.

Mingi gulped at he looked at the two. Wooyoung blinked, clearly thrown off by Yunho’s defensive response. “Dude, I don’t know, I just heard from a few people that you were with Yn all day yesterday. No one could get ahold of you, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

Yunho scoffed, " i don't even remember yesterday. All i remember is playing games with you the night before."

Mingi's throat went dry as he tried to process the exchange before he left. He needed to find you and quick.

───

You jumped when you San approached you, confusing you as you held your bag close to you. Mingi’s heart skipped a beat as he approached you, the sharp tension in his chest still lingering from earlier and last night.

" you're yn right" Mingi’s voice came out much softer than he intended, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’d notice something was off.

You looked up at him, confusion flashing across your face. It didn’t seem like you expected him—San—to be the one to approach you like this.

“Yeah, I’m Yn...” Your voice trailed off, still unsure about his sudden appearance. “i'm sorry but- who are you? ”

Mingi froze at your question, his pulse quickening, trying to stay calm, he forced a smile, though it came off as awkward and a little too stiff. “Oh, uh… I’m San, don’t you recognize me?” His voice sounded off even to his own ears, not the usual warmth and familiarity that came with being in San’s body. He cursed under his breath mentally, wishing he could have gotten a grip on the situation before it escalated.

You frowned, still holding your bag close, clearly skeptical. “San?” You repeated, your eyes scanning him, trying to figure out if something was off.

Then your eyes widen as you recognized him, " oh! you're yunho's teammate. Sorry, yunho didn't really introduce me to his teammates, said it was too soon."

Mingi felt fury rush him as you smiled up at him, " yeah..his teammate. Sorry he can such a dick sometimes,"

Mingi’s eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and something else as you stepped back, your expression faltering. He could feel the tension building in his chest. Your defense of Yunho—he’s not a dick—set something off in him, but he tried to hold it together, the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. He didn’t have time to process it all, not when he was already teetering on the edge of control.

The hiss that escaped his lips surprised even him, sharp and filled with emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?” His voice came out more intense than he intended, and he immediately regretted the sharpness.

You seemed to hesitate for a split second, but then you nodded, your voice soft as you agreed, “Sure, San, we can.”

Mingi fought the urge to sigh in relief. At least he had a chance to talk to you, to try to make sense of the situation. He led the way, his thoughts racing.

As you followed him, Mingi kept his pace steady, his steps purposeful. But every time he looked back at you, the soft, uncertain way you moved, the trust in your eyes, it stirred something inside him that made his stomach twist.

When you reached a quiet corner in the hallway, away from the others, Mingi turned to face you, his heart still hammering in his chest. He could feel his pulse in his ears, the silence between you both thick with unspoken words. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“I need to know something, Yn,” he began, his voice low and tense. “What do you really think of Yunho?”

You looked at him confused, " that he loves me and that -"

“He doesn’t,” Mingi’s voice came out sharper than he intended, cutting through the space between you both like a blade. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he kept them still, the fury barely contained beneath the surface.

You looked at him, confusion and concern growing in your eyes. “San, what are you talking about? Yes he does.”

You sounded so sure, so certain that Yunho loved you, and that belief—those words—drove Mingi mad. He couldn’t let you continue to believe in something that felt so hollow to him, something he had seen with his own eyes—the lies, the distance, the way Yunho treated you like an afterthought.

“Sure, I don’t go to his games and I never met any of his friends, but he loves me in his own ways.”

Mingi’s heart pounded painfully in his chest, the words stinging more than they should have. He felt anger surge through him, but there was something else mixed in with it—a twinge of something darker, more personal, a mix of envy and bitterness that he wasn’t prepared to confront.

“No, Yn, he doesn’t love you,” Mingi bit out, his voice strained. He took a step forward, unable to hold back the frustration. “Not in the way you think. He doesn’t love you, not like you deserve.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, as if the fury and the hurt had finally found their voice. He wanted to take them back the second they left his mouth, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You blinked, the confusion on your face slowly turning to something else—hurt? Disbelief? “What are you saying? Why are you saying this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d had in Yunho seeming to crack under the weight of his words.

Mingi swallowed hard, guilt flashing through him, but he couldn’t stop now. “I’m saying he’s not the person you think he is. He’s playing games, and he’s stringing you along. I’m telling you this because I care about you—” he caught himself, realizing how that might sound. But he couldn’t backpedal. Not now. “You deserve better than this, Yn.”

" ... but you're not any better and im surprised you're even talking to me right now. You hate me San, why should i believe anything you're saying?"

Mingi froze at your words, the sting of your accusation cutting deeper than anything he had expected. His breath hitched as you spoke, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you both.

Your gaze was intense, but there was hurt there too—a deep, raw kind of hurt that made Mingi’s throat tighten. His mind reeled, unsure how to respond. It was a moment where he could either try to salvage whatever fragile trust you might still have or tear everything down completely.

He wanted to say something, anything to make you understand, but his thoughts were muddled. The frustration, the anger, the guilt—it all tangled together in a mess he didn’t know how to untangle.

“You’re right,” Mingi finally muttered, his voice quiet and heavy with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He couldn't lie to you anymore, couldn’t pretend like everything was fine. “I… I’ve been a dick to you. I know that. I’ve been awful, and I’m not gonna pretend like I’m some perfect guy who knows how to fix everything.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, the tension in his body palpable. “But that doesn’t change what I’m saying. About Yunho. About what he’s doing.”

He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking in Yunho’s voice, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. He just needed you to see the truth.

“I know I’ve treated you badly, but you’re right about one thing—I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. And I wouldn’t say any of this if I didn’t care.” His voice softened, the anger and defensiveness fading, replaced by something more raw. “You deserve more than someone who isn’t there for you. You deserve better than Yunho.”

Mingi bit his lip, unsure if the words were enough. He wasn’t sure if you’d believe him, but he couldn’t stand by and watch you fall for someone who was lying to you.

Mingi stood frozen, his chest tightening with each step you took away from him. The sight of you walking away, tears streaming down your face, hit him harder than he ever expected. His anger, his frustration—it all seemed meaningless in that moment, swallowed by the guilt that gnawed at him.

I shouldn’t have said that. The thought echoed in his mind, but there was no taking back the words now. He had tried to warn you about Yunho, but at what cost? He had only made you cry, made you doubt everything.

He watched you retreat, each step further away from him, and a pang of regret struck him so deep it felt like a physical blow. He should have handled this differently. He should have been better—kinder, more understanding. Instead, he had let his emotions and frustrations get the best of him, and now you were walking away, hurt by the very person who had promised to look out for you.

“Yn, wait...” Mingi finally called out, his voice weak and desperate. He took a few steps forward, but his feet felt heavy, like he wasn’t even sure if you’d stop for him.

He wasn’t sure if it was pride, guilt, or something else that kept him from moving faster to catch up, but he felt rooted to the spot. The last thing he wanted was for you to walk away with that look on your face, feeling like he had betrayed your trust.

But it was too late.

Mingi could only watch helplessly as you walked away, his heart sinking lower with each passing second.

You walked right up to Yunho who smiled widely at you, cigarette in hand. You seemed to hesitate for just a moment, your eyes flicking to the cigarette before you looked up at Yunho’s face. The memory of yesterday—the way Yunho had treated you, felt like a lie.

" I thought you quit?" you asked, your voice soft. It was a simple question, but it carried so much more meaning. The disappointment, the worry—it was all there in your voice.

Yunho looked at you with confusion in his eyes, as if the question didn’t even register. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone casual, like he didn’t even care that it might hurt you.

" yesterday - when we literally spend all day together?" you asked, confused.

Yunho put out the cigarette with a slow, deliberate motion, shaking his head as he responded, “Why is everyone saying that?” His tone was dismissive, almost annoyed, like it didn’t matter at all.

Your heart sank as you process his words. " we were at the park? you even invited me to the game..."

Yunho stood there, still distant, not understanding the gravity of the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, almost bored with the conversation. He clearly wasn’t taking you seriously, and that broke your heart.

" and don't bother coming to the game, you know how embarrassing you can be"

Your jaw dropped and was ready to speak but you felt a hand on your shoulder - pushing you back. You looked at San in confusion.

The sound of Mingi’s fist connecting with Yunho’s nose echoed through the air, and for a brief, horrifying moment, everything went silent. The sickening crack reverberated through the space, leaving you frozen in shock. You gasped, your eyes wide as you stared at the scene unfolding before you.

Mingi stood there, chest heaving with anger, eyes blazing with fury, while Yunho stumbled back, clutching his nose. Blood began to drip from Yunho’s nostrils, staining the front of his shirt as he glared at Mingi with a mix of shock and rage.

“What the fuck, San!?” Yunho shouted, his voice thick with disbelief and pain. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and surprise.

You stood there, unsure of what to do, your heart racing as your mind tried to process what had just happened. Mingi had—he had hit Yunho. It was almost like something snapped inside of him, like all the anger and frustration he had been holding back finally erupted. But now, the air between the three of you was thick with tension, and you didn’t know whether to step in, back away, or just scream.

Mingi’s hands were still clenched into fists, but his expression had shifted. It wasn’t just rage anymore—it was something deeper, something that had been building for far too long. The fury that had driven him to strike Yunho wasn’t just about the current moment. It was about everything that had come before—the hurt he saw you endure, the lies Yunho had fed you, and the way he had dismissed your feelings.

He took a shaky breath, his jaw tight as he stared at Yunho. “You don’t get to treat her like that anymore, Yunho.” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the weight of the emotion behind it. “You don’t get to belittle her, use her, and make her feel worthless.”

Yunho sneered, still holding his bleeding nose. “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?”

But Mingi didn’t back down. He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “I’m someone who’s not going to stand by and watch you destroy her,” he spat, his voice thick with conviction.

You still stood frozen, the shock of it all hitting you harder than anything you had ever expected. This was more than a fight—it was a breaking point, and you could feel the weight of it all crashing down on you. The air around you felt heavy with unspoken words, and you weren’t sure how to fix this.

But what was clearer than anything in that moment was that something inside Mingi had finally snapped. He wasn’t going to let you be a victim to Yunho anymore—not in his body, not in any world.

───

Mingi watched you shakily take the tissue from him, his heart aching at the sight of your tears. He never wanted to see you like this—broken and crying, caught in the aftermath of a mess that should’ve never happened in the first place. Your body shook with sobs, and it made everything in him ache with a kind of helplessness he hadn’t expected to feel.

“I... I didn’t want this to happen,” Mingi said softly, his voice breaking through the silence between you two. He stepped a little closer, but his eyes stayed focused on the ground, not wanting to invade your space too much. “I didn’t want you to see all of this. I just—I couldn’t stay quiet anymore.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes, and Mingi felt a rush of guilt. He had never imagined things would go this far—never expected to end up so tangled in your life, in Yunho’s mess. But here he was, watching you struggle to piece things together, watching as your faith in Yunho shattered.

“San, you didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, still unsure of how to even respond to everything. The words barely escaped your lips, tinged with the disbelief that still clung to you.

Mingi hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides, wanting to reach out, but unsure if you wanted him to. He felt so many emotions swirl inside him—anger at Yunho, guilt for hurting you like this, but also something softer, something protective.

“I couldn’t just stand there and watch him do this to you,” he said, his voice more steady now, but still laced with emotion. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You deserve so much better than him.”

Mingi’s heart ached as you shook your head, still trying to make sense of everything. He could see the confusion and hurt in your eyes, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on you. You barely whispered a “thanks…” as you took the tissue from him, and it made something in his chest tighten.

" yn.."

Mingi’s heart sank as you stood up and asked, “San, please… can this wait for another day?” Your words cut through him like a cold wave, leaving him frozen in place. His chest tightened, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk away, leaving him standing there, helpless and unsure.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He wanted to stop you, to tell you that he understood, that he was here for you no matter what. But the silence that followed felt like the only answer he could give.

───

Mingi’s stomach churned as he stepped into the house, the sight of Hongjoong and Yunho on the couch immediately making his heart drop. Yunho, with a bandage on his nose, was glaring at him with an intensity that Mingi could feel even from across the room. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Mingi knew this was coming.

“San, want to explain what happened?” Hongjoong’s voice was calm, but the undercurrent of frustration was unmistakable.

Mingi’s mind raced, his thoughts tangled in the chaos of the day. The confrontation with Yunho, the way he’d lashed out, the look in your eyes when you walked away from him—it all felt like a whirlwind he could barely keep up with.

He opened his mouth, but no words came at first. He couldn’t just apologize. He couldn’t just pretend that hitting Yunho was some isolated incident. It was about more than that. It was about everything Yunho had done to you, everything he had seen you suffer through.

He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “I’m not sorry for what I did,” Mingi said, his voice raw but steady. He wasn’t backing down now. He’d already crossed a line, and it wasn’t just about the fight anymore. “He had it coming.”

Yunho's eyes narrowed, and he sat up straighter on the couch. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice was laced with disbelief and anger. “I don't know what your fucking problem is, but that doesn’t give you the right to hit me like that.”

Mingi clenched his fists at his sides, the anger that had been simmering all day bubbling back to the surface. “You don’t get to treat her like that, Yunho. You don’t get to make her feel worthless, and you sure as hell don’t get to talk about her like she’s nothing.”

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples as if he’d seen this coming. “San…”

“She’s not nothing,” Mingi shot back, his voice louder now, the emotion he’d been holding in finally breaking through. “She deserves more than the way you’ve been treating her. She deserves more than the lies you’ve been feeding her.”

Yunho looked at him like he was insane. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been doing, San.”

Mingi took a step forward, his eyes locked onto Yunho’s with an intensity that surprised even him. “I know enough. I know how you’ve been treating her, and I’m done letting you get away with it.”

There was a long silence, the tension between the three of them palpable. Mingi felt like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t turn back from. He knew that what he’d done—what he’d said—had pushed things too far, but he wasn’t going to apologize for standing up for you. Not now.

Hongjoong finally broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. “San, you’re not wrong to be angry. But this isn’t the way to handle it.”

Mingi’s chest heaved with frustration. “I don’t care anymore, Hongjoong. I’ve had enough.”

Yunho opened his mouth to argue, the anger still clear in his expression, but as Mingi turned to leave, something about the finality in his stance stopped him. The intensity of Mingi’s words, the anger he had shown, and the unspoken weight behind them seemed to deflate Yunho, just a little. He sank back into the couch, a frown pulling at his features as he wiped his hand over his face in frustration.

Hongjoong observed the shift in the room, his eyes flicking between Yunho and Mingi's retreating form. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze lingering on Yunho, who was now looking smaller than he had just moments ago. The tension was still thick in the air, but it felt different now—Mingi had made it clear that he wasn’t going to just let things slide anymore. Yunho's usual confidence seemed shaken, even if he didn’t want to show it.

Mingi didn’t look back as he walked away, his steps purposeful and heavy, the weight of the day still hanging over him. His chest still ached from everything he had witnessed, everything he had seen you go through. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make things right for you. But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to let Yunho get away with hurting you any longer.

And for the first time, Mingi didn’t feel the need to apologize. He wasn’t wrong.

When he made it to his room, he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with everything that had happened. He wasn’t sure if you would ever forgive him for getting involved in such a mess, but he knew one thing for sure: he was done sitting back.

───

You stood there, a little taken aback by Seonghwa’s sudden appearance and his nervous demeanor. His usual calm, collected nature seemed to have been replaced by a subtle unease as he rubbed his palm against his jeans. The way he hesitated made you feel even more confused, wondering what he wanted to talk about in this empty classroom.

“Seonghwa, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice softer, but still unsure about the situation. “You look like you’re about to confess something.”

Seonghwa blinked, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I… uh… I need to talk to you about something,” he started, his voice a little more hesitant than usual. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small frown pulling at your features. “What’s going on? Is this about Yunho? Because honestly, I don’t—”

“No, it’s not about Yunho,” Seonghwa interrupted, though his voice still carried a tone of uncertainty. “It’s about… something else. It’s about me.”

You stared at him, the confusion only deepening as Seonghwa’s words seemed to hang in the air. “About you? What do you mean?”

Mingi let out a sigh, " i'm not seonghwa- at least, not for today."

Your eyes widened as you processed Mingi’s words. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. Seonghwa wasn't himself? Not today? The realization hit you like a cold wave.

“Wait, what do you mean you’re not Seonghwa?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, confusion overwhelming you. You took a cautious step back, looking at him closely, trying to see if there was something you missed. But everything about his demeanor felt like Mingi—yet the way he spoke felt different, too.

Mingi let out a small, frustrated chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not expecting this reaction. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m actually in Seonghwa’s body right now. It’s… complicated,” he explained, glancing away for a moment. “But it’s me, Yn. Mingi. I don’t know how to make sense of all this either, but I’m the one here.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you felt tears weld up " if this is some sick joke -"

Mingi’s expression hardened at your words, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. He could see how upset you were, how hurt—and that only made him feel worse. He had never intended for you to think this was a joke, but he understood why you might think that, given everything that had been happening.

“It’s not a joke, Yn,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of pain. He took a step closer, careful not to invade your space, but wanting to make it clear that he was serious. “I swear to you, this is real. I’m in Seonghwa’s body right now, but I’m still the same Mingi. I’m not playing games with you.”

You took a step back, feeling the lump form in your throat. You couldn’t tell if you were angry, confused, or just emotionally drained from everything that had been going on.

" hwa, you know how much i miss mingi but you playing this stupid trick on me is ridiculous "

Mingi froze at your words, his heart sinking. He knew this was going to be hard to explain, but hearing you say his name like that—believing he was someone else entirely—cut deeper than he expected.

“Yn, I’m not trying to trick you,” he said softly, the desperation in his voice unmistakable. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how much you miss me—because I miss you, too. But I swear, it’s me.”

You shook your head, backing away further as tears welled in your eyes. “Stop it, Seonghwa. Just... stop. You don’t get to play games like this. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but pretending to be Mingi? That’s low. Even for you.”

Mingi stepped closer to you, holding you by your shoulders, " yn, please you have to believe me. I've been searching for you since -"

You tugged away from him, " just stop it seonghwa, did yunho put you up to this?"

“Yn, this isn’t Yunho. This isn’t Seonghwa. It’s me, Mingi.” His voice cracked with desperation, but he forced himself to keep going, knowing that if he gave up now, you might never believe him.

You stared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to process everything. The way he spoke, the way he looked at you—it felt familiar, but your heart couldn’t let you believe it. It was too much, too surreal, and it felt like a cruel trick. “How am I supposed to believe you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How am I supposed to know you’re not just saying what you think I want to hear?”

Mingi hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. He knew he had to say something that only he would know—something to prove to you that he wasn’t lying. “Do you remember the night we got stuck in the rain?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost tentative. “You were so mad because I dragged you out without an umbrella, but then you started laughing because we ended up dancing in the middle of the street. You said it was the happiest you’d felt in months. You kissed me right there, even though we were soaked.”

Your breath hitched, the memory rushing back like a tidal wave. It wasn’t something you’d ever shared with anyone else, not even Seonghwa. Your walls started to crack, the anger and confusion giving way to something else—something terrifyingly vulnerable.

“How... how do you know that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingi stepped closer, his expression softening. “Because I was there, Yn. It was me. It’s always been me.”

“It’s not possible,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Mingi felt a lump in his throat as he watched you struggle with everything he’d just said. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice softer now, pleading. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise you, it’s me. Look at me, Yn. Really look at me. Can you honestly say you don’t feel it? That you don’t recognize me?”

Your lips trembled as you glanced up at him, and for a moment, you let yourself meet his gaze. There was something in his eyes—something achingly familiar—that made your chest tighten. But it didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

“Stop it, Seonghwa,” you said again, though your voice was weaker now, less certain. “Just... stop. Please.”

Mingi swallowed hard, his heart breaking at the sight of your tears. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to make you believe him—but he knew that pushing too hard would only drive you further away.

“I’m not giving up on you, Yn,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the pain he felt. “Even if you don’t believe me right now, I’m not going to stop trying to show you the truth. You mean too much to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Mingi turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, torn between the impossibility of his words and the nagging feeling in your heart that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

───

Seonghwa glanced up from his phone, his sharp features softening when he saw you. He nodded, offering a small smile as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “Of course, Yn. What’s up?”

You shifted on your feet, suddenly second-guessing your decision to approach him. The memory of your last conversation with him—or whoever he’d been that day—still lingered, leaving you with more questions than answers.

“It’s about... the other day,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “What you said to me... about Mingi.”

Seonghwa’s expression froze for a split second before he quickly recovered, his brow furrowing in concern. “i'm sorry ynie, but i can't remember anything from yesterday. Did i say something to upset you? "

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of confusion and frustration pressing down on your chest. His tone was sincere, his expression genuinely concerned—but that only made it worse.

“You don’t remember?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa shook his head, his brow furrowing deeper as he took a step closer to you. “No, I don’t. Yn, if I said something to hurt you or upset you, I’m really sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign that he was lying. But all you saw was sincerity, which only made the situation more confusing. “You didn’t hurt me, Seonghwa. It’s just... the things you said—they didn’t make sense. You talked about Mingi, about things only he would know, and... I don’t understand how you could know them.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—panic, maybe—crossing his features before he quickly masked it. “Mingi? Yn, are you sure you’re not mixing things up? Maybe I said something that reminded you of him, but—”

“No!” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t just that. You knew things, Hwa. Personal things. Things I’ve never told anyone. And now you’re telling me you don’t remember?”

Seonghwa hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When he looked back at you, his gaze was softer, almost pleading. “Yn, I swear, I’m not trying to confuse you or mess with you. I really don’t remember anything from yesterday.”

Your shoulders slumped as the lump in your throat grew. You wanted to believe him—you really did—but the nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t let you let it go. “I don’t know what’s going on, Seonghwa, but something isn’t right. And I can’t just ignore it.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. If I were you, I’d feel the same way. But I promise you, if I remember anything or figure out what’s going on, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

You nodded reluctantly, though the unease in your chest remained. “Okay.”

As Seonghwa gave you a reassuring smile and walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing something—like there was a truth just out of reach, waiting to be uncovered.

You glanced up, your heart still racing from the sudden interruption. The person next to you gave a sheepish smile, their presence radiating a kind of easy charm that put you slightly at ease despite your initial shock.

“hi ynnie,"

Your face paled as you looked at the stranger. " can i help you?"

The stranger put his bag down as he put his and your laptop close together. " sorry i disappeared a few days. I got stuck a couple hours away. I'm actually glad i woke up in Yeosang body."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your body tensing as you stared at him. “What did you just say?”

The stranger—Yeosang, or whoever was claiming to be in his body—smiled softly, leaning in slightly to keep his voice low. “I said I’m glad I woke up in Yeosang’s body. It’s me, Yn. It’s Mingi.”

Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you processed what he’d just said. “This isn’t funny,” you whispered sharply, glancing around to make sure no one else was paying attention. “If this is some kind of sick joke—”

“It’s not a joke,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s me. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since... well, since everything started happening.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched the edge of your desk. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. You’re not—Mingi’s gone.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but think about it. Think about what I told you when I was in Seonghwa’s body. Or when I was in San’s. You know it’s me, Yn. Deep down, you know.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. He was saying things that no one else could know, things that lined up too perfectly with the strange events of the past few days. But how could it be true?

“If it’s really you... prove it,” you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yeosang—or Mingi, as he claimed—nodded, his expression softening. “maybe we can go somewhere private?

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Yeosang’s—or Mingi’s—face. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, but the sheer impossibility of his claim left you rooted to your seat.

“I... I don’t know,” you stammered, glancing around nervously. The other students in the room were too focused on their own conversations to notice the tension between you two, but it still felt like the walls had ears. “This is... a lot.”

Mingi nodded in understanding, his voice soft but steady. ��I get it. It’s overwhelming. But please, just give me a chance to explain. Somewhere quiet, where no one can overhear us.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding. “Fine. After class.”

Relief washed over his face, and he gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Ynnie. That’s all I’m asking for.”

The professor walked in moments later, starting the lecture. You tried to focus, but your mind kept wandering to the person sitting next to you. You didn’t know what to believe, but one thing was clear: whatever was happening, it wasn’t ordinary.

When the class ended, Mingi—or Yeosang—waited for you at the door. He didn’t say anything, just gestured for you to follow him. You walked in silence, your nerves twisting into knots with every step.

Finally, you found yourself in an empty corner of the library, tucked away behind rows of bookshelves. The air felt heavier here, as if the truth you were about to hear carried its own gravity.

Mingi turned to face you, his expression serious. “ask me anything, to prove that i'm mingi"

You looked up at him, " what did i say to you on our last night together.."

Mingi’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the confident façade cracked, revealing the vulnerability beneath. He hesitated, as if the memory was too precious to put into words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and tinged with emotion.

“You said... you weren’t ready to say goodbye.” His gaze met yours, unwavering. “You kept trying to act strong, but I could see how much it hurt you. You held onto my hand like you never wanted to let go, and you told me you’d wait for me, no matter how long it took. That you’d always believe in me.”

Your breath hitched, tears pricking at your eyes. “And then?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And then, I told you I’d come back to you. That no matter what happened, I’d find a way. I promised you, Ynnie, and I meant it.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of the truth you couldn’t deny. No one else could have known that—no one but Mingi.

Your legs felt weak, and you stumbled slightly, gripping the edge of a nearby bookshelf for support. “Mingi... it really is you, isn’t it?”

He stepped closer, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch you, afraid this moment wasn’t real. “It’s me, Yn. I’m here.”

A sob escaped your lips as you covered your mouth, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions. Relief, confusion, anger, and love all collided, leaving you breathless.

“How is this possible? How are you here, in his body?” you choked out.

Mingi looked down, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know. I don’t understand it either. I’ve been waking up in different people’s bodies for months, trying to find my way back to you. Every time, I get closer, but I don’t know how to stop it or why it’s happening.”

You reached out instinctively, grabbing his wrist as if anchoring yourself to the moment. “I thought I lost you forever, Mingi...”

He shook his head, his voice firm. “You’ll never lose me. I’ll keep fighting to stay with you, no matter what it takes.”

You sobbed on his chest as he held you tightly. " what happens now?"

Mingi shrugged his shoulders, " hopefully, i wake up in my body and i make my way back you. permanently this time,"

You clung to him, the weight of his words sinking in. “But what if you don’t? What if this doesn’t end?” The fear that had been gnawing at you all this time crept back into your chest, tight and suffocating.

Mingi’s hands gently cupped your face, lifting your head so he could look into your eyes. There was a softness there, but also determination. “I don’t know what will happen, Yn. But I know this...” His thumb gently traced the edge of your cheek. “No matter what, I’ll keep fighting to come back to you. I promise.”

His voice, though full of uncertainty, was unwavering in its conviction. And even in the face of the unknown, you felt the weight of his promise settle in your heart.

You nodded, wiping your tears away, trying to steady your breathing. “I believe you. I just... I just want you to stay.”

Mingi gave a soft smile, his hands still holding you gently, as if afraid to let go. “I’m here now, and I’ll be here as long as I can.”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, to believe that this wasn’t just a dream you’d wake up from. But even if it was—no matter how impossible it seemed—you weren’t willing to give up on this, on him, on the chance that somehow, someway, you’d be able to find your way through it together.

"Then I’ll wait for you, Mingi.” You whispered, your voice filled with determination of your own. "No matter how long it takes."

177 notes · View notes

feeder86 · 11 months ago

Text

Selfish

“Why are you arranging to go out with the boys? You know we’re going up to help my parents with redecorating this weekend!” Lucy complained, standing straight up and looking down at Ryan, laid out on the couch.

“We’re doing what?” Ryan asked, completely perplexed. “We were there last weekend!”

“Yeah, and I told my dad you’d give him a hand with the wallpapering this next weekend as well,” Lucy continued in her whining tone.

“Their entire lounge?” Ryan shot back. “Nobody told me!”

“Well…” Lucy mumbled, suddenly realising that Ryan was right. “I’m telling you now.”

Ryan huffed in frustration. He hadn’t had a night out with the boys in months. He’d thought, when he married Lucy, that he was setting himself up for a good life. She didn’t want kids, she wasn’t crazy about him visiting the gym all the time and she was a fully qualified chef! However, two years in and Ryan had never had so little time for himself, endlessly fixing up their apartment just as Lucy wanted it, then constantly heading out to see her parents; always being signed up for some tedious maintenance tasks now that Lucy’s dad was getting on a bit and living off his retirement income. “Fine,” he sighed, deleting his planned message to the group chat with the boys. “I guess I can see my friends when I’ve got a couple of weeks off next month.”

“Oh, yes!” Lucy nodded, making Ryan instantly regret reminding her about his time off. The cogs in her head clearly rolling into action, imagining all of the jobs he could get done in that time.

“Ryan!” cheered his buddies a full nine weeks later, amazed that he had actually made it out. “We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I’m only here for one of two drinks. I dropped Lucy off in town to do some shopping,” he explained to them, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“You’re not coming to the club?” Adam asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise after giving him the biggest hug.

“No… no. I wish I could, but…” he grumbled, considering the best way to explain how much Lucy was monopolising his time; how frustrating and demanding she had become since they got married. . “...I’ve got commitments,” he simply stated, deciding not to poison his time with his friends by complaining about the person who had kept him away from them for so long.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jack jumped in, filling the silent void that was killing the mood. “Life happens.”

“Jack!” Ryan exclaimed, seeing his high school best friend and doing a slight double take. The guy had altered quite a bit since Ryan last saw him. Where had that double chin come from? How was he filling that shirt with all that padding in his stomach? What the hell had happened? “How long has it been, buddy?”

“I saw you at Ginny and Fran’s house warming, about four months ago,” he answered. “I introduced you to my new girlfriend, Michelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remember, Ryan nodded, thinking back to how drunk Lucy had been that night, and how early they had had to leave. But Jack hadn’t looked so overweight back then. They’d tried out their friends’ new swimming pool. Jack had been one of the first ones in. He definitely wasn’t out of shape. Not like he appeared to be now.

As luck would have it, when the guys all went to grab seats, Ryan ended up next to Jack, right on the end of a long, rectangular table. Back in their high school days, the pair of them had been the best of friends, and that old rapport immediately came back every time they met; even after months of separation. Jack had always been the bad influence that Ryan’s parents had never approved of. He’d been banned from hanging out with the guy on multiple occasions when he was growing up and, even now, he still felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, giggling away at the crude jokes that tumbled out of Jack’s mouth with ease.

“So, things are going well with Michelle?” Ryan asked, spotting that Jack had already referenced her several times in their conversation.

“Things are going great!” Jack beamed. He leaned in a little closer, clearly not wanting the other guys to hear. “We’ve even talked about getting married!”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Married? After four months?” he whispered back, knowing that Jack didn’t want this broadcasting. He remembered how promiscuous his friend had been during his college days. If Ryan had been asked to pick any one of the guys here who was least likely to ever settle down, he would have chosen Jack without a second thought.

“I know!” Jack beamed, leaning back and placing his hands on the top of his stout little paunch, which jutted out into a proper shelf as they sat down. “I’m so ready for it though,” he smiled, seeming to rub his stomach mindlessly. “I’m actually really excited about the idea.”

Round and round Jack’s hands went, rubbing that tight ball of stomach fat, pulling Ryan’s gaze into it. “I’m happy for you,” he mumbled back.

Jack looked around, checking that no one else was listening in, then he turned himself a little more into Ryan, about to divulge even more private information. “Michelle’s super kinky!” he whispered.

Ryan chuckled and leaned in as well. His own sex life was so monotonous these days, he was actually quite ready to hear about someone else having a good time. “Oh yeah? She certainly looked pretty flexible when I met her that one time,” he grinned, settling into dirty ‘guy talk’ with enthusiasm.

“Oh, buddy!” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a huge exhale. “You would not believe it. She has me wrapped around her little finger. Absolutely anything she wants, I do for her.”

“That doesn’t sound too dissimilar to me and Lucy,” Ryan quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

“No, I’m not talking about boring shit, like decorating,” Jack shot back, having heard all about Ryan’s grumblings. “I’m talking about really kinky, submissive stuff.”

“Really?” Ryan smirked. “I never thought she’d be the dominant type.”

“No,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “No one else knows. She hides it really well.”

Ryan had to admit that he was getting a little turned on. “So, what type of stuff does she make you do?” he asked next; his eyes twinkling with boyish interest, just as much as Jack’s were.

“All sorts,” Jack answered, his hands slipping onto his gut again. “When we started going out, I was still trying to act like the playboy I used to be. Michelle was having none of it. She’s put guys like me in their place before. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures!” he smirked.”But her biggest turn on is making sure I overeat and get bigger.”

“Seriously?” Ryan asked, now understanding why Jack kept on holding his stomach. “I thought girls hated it when guys put on weight?”

“It’s an absolute fucking dream!” Jack replied, lowering his voice even further. Just the fact that he had sworn showed Ryan how turned on his friend was, simply by talking about it. “I get home and she’ll sit me in my gaming chair and set everything up for me. Then she brings me endless snacks and beers; a few sodas, cream cakes. Michelle won’t even let me get up. I do nothing around my apartment at all! No washing, no cleaning and certainly no cooking! She gets off on controlling my entire lifestyle when I’m at home. Then rewarding me for it.”

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Ryan had to agree, feeling surprisingly jealous. He’d been up until almost midnight last night, fixing a new shelf for Lucy’s candles, whilst his buddy Jack had been gaming, eating and getting pleasured the entire time.

“You see why I’m so keen to marry her now?” Jack joked back. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living out our dream that we used to talk about in high school.”

Ryan looked a little perplexed, trying to remember what they used to talk about ten years ago.

In turn, Jack seemed a little surprised that Ryan was struggling to recall. “You remember? Mr Hanson was such a bad gym teacher, we used to joke that we would just find some girls who liked fat guys and never have to put on a pair of itchy gym shorts again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan chuckled. “That worked out well for me,” he sighed sarcastically. “I ended up marrying a professional chef, but I’m now ten pounds lighter than I was when we married.”

“Dude, there are other girls out there,” Jack went on enthusiastically. “Believe me! My eyes have been opened in these last few months! If you want the life that I’ve got…” he proclaimed, rubbing his stomach once more, “trust me, you can have it!”

Ryan nodded. No one else had dared to suggest he thought about a life beyond Lucy. Whenever he raised his concerns or annoyances about their marriage, people were keen to stamp them out, reminding him, in their accusatory tones, that marriage was all about compromising. Now, here was Jack, actively encouraging him to imagine being with someone else instead. It was the reason why Jack was, and always would be, Ryan’s very best friend.

Ryan looked at himself in the mirror a couple of weeks later. It was Sunday night. He should have been well rested, and yet he looked nothing but tired. The dirt under his fingernails from digging up Lucy’s parents’ garden all weekend was still visible in places, despite scrubbing for so long in the shower. His ribs were showing in his chest and, although he was built with plenty of muscle, he’d never looked so lanky and slim in his life. He thought of Jack and his life of pleasure and luxury. This… this tiredness and exhaustion was not what he wanted for himself. He looked almost ill.

Life had to change.

Ryan raised his cell phone to the mirror and took a picture of himself. This would be his lowest point, he decided with determination. From now on, things were going to change. He never wanted to see himself like this ever again.

“What’s all this?” Lucy complained, slipping into Ryan’s truck on their way to the supermarket. She held up several pieces of packaging, wrappers from fast food places and sugary snacks. “Is this what you’ve been eating when you’ve been in work this week?”

Ryan nodded without shame. “I feel like I’m too skinny. I’m trying to put on a few pounds.”

“Since when?” Lucy blasted back indignantly. “I’ve never told you you’re too skinny. I like the way you look.”

“I don’t,” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve never liked being skinny. I was always bigger than this growing up. In fact, I was actually quite chubby when I started high school.”

“Well, no. Sorry,” Lucy stated, without compromise. “I’m your wife, and I say no.”

Ryan looked at her in disbelief. “It’s my body,” he declared. “And I want to feel good about it.”

“I said no!” Lucy spat, brushing all the packaging into the footwell and sitting herself down. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”

Ryan got in, sat down and slammed the door shut, neither of them speaking for the entire ride.

‘Fastest ways to gain weight’ Ryan typed into the internet search that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. He quickly skipped through anything that dealt with muscle gains and focused solely on those that promoted increases in fat. He may have married Lucy, but she didn’t own him. In fact, she was the one who needed to learn that more than anyone. This was one ‘no’ that he wasn’t about to cave into.

“You’re looking well,” cried Ryan’s aunt as he stopped over to fix her leaking tap.

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “I feel quite well,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to put some weight back on these last few weeks. I was starting to get far too skinny.”

“I was saying that to your mom, but she didn’t agree with me. You had gone dreadfully skinny.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. He had always been much more on his aunt’s wavelength than anyone else in his family. “I found some recipes online and I buy in these little calorie shakes that seem to work well on me. I’ve put on about 20lbs altogether,” he explained, raising his shirt briefly to show that his stomach was indeed a little thicker. “Lucy isn’t too pleased about it. But she’s never happy these days.”

“Well, you were never skinny growing up, were you?” his aunt nodded. “You always had a sweet tooth, I remember. You used to eat me out of house and home when you came over!”

“That’s why I’m so tall,” Ryan laughed. “I was always so well fed growing up.”

The pair of them laughed and Ryan packed up his things. In the old days, he would have headed straight home to his wife, but now he was feeling the need to be much more selfish, heading istead to the fast food place he had grown quite attached to and determined that he would at last defeat the Mega Monster Meal that had, up until now, eluded him.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” Lucy complained, checking the time as Ryan rushed about after his shower. He’d been late home, getting caught up at a job, sending his wife into a tailspin as she tried to get him ready for her friend’s engagement party. She’d laid his suit out on the bed, his underwear, shoes and socks; knowing exactly how she wanted him to look.

Ryan hated being rushed. So what if they missed the first twenty minutes? Was the world really going to end? It was the side of Lucy he hated most, struggling to pull his socks on as his feet were still so wet.

“Oh,” Ryan mumbled, sucking in his stomach and trying to button up the suit pants. He tugged and pulled, holding his breath as much as he could. “I’m too big for them!” he chuckled with amusement, remembering that he had bought the suit for a wedding less than a year ago, when he was much skinnier. “What a waste of money, these were!” he joked lightheartedly. “I only got to wear them once!”

Lucy stared on in horror. She’d told him again and again to cut down on his eating. Couldn’t he see how bad he looked? Wasn’t he ashamed of how his stomach was starting to develop into a little paunch.

“Relax,” he whispered back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll just pair the jacket with my jeans and then we can head straight out.”

However, Lucy’s face had flushed with anger. “No,” she declared, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going by myself. I’m not being seen with you, looking like this.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t have words, listening as she stormed down the stairs and threw the front door closed. He heard her car start and he peeked out the window as that too stormed off down the street; out of view.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ryan threw himself down onto the bed; still dressed only in his underwear and socks. How had he married someone so fucking unreasonable? She was just so…

But then a thought came to Ryan, making his brain tingle into life. Had he actually just been given the night to himself? The whole house? Just him? All evening?

He looked down at his thicker stomach and smiled with delight at it. “Thank you!” he laughed aloud, managing to pinch a little and jiggle it in happiness. He felt a twitch in his groin, realising that with the night to himself, he could watch porn or do anything that he wanted. He could order food in. Lots of it! “Yes!”, he nodded, getting more excited and turned on now. This was his night. Free reign to be as selfish as he liked.

Ryan proceeded to indulge himself in every way possible, looking down at his bloated stomach a couple of hours later. Maybe this was it, he thought to himself. Maybe this was the way out of his miserable life with Lucy. He could seize upon her dislike of his weight gain and run with it. Why stop? He’d certainly gone beyond the point of denying himself for the sake of her ideals. There was a path in front of him, the exit sign shining brightly and a new life within his reach. He just needed to have the courage to reach for it.

“A Saturday night to yourself?” Jack laughed, surprised that Ryan had actually followed up on his promises and made it out for a drink. “You must have been a very good boy!” he teased.

Ryan hugged his friend and stood back to admire him slightly. Jack had grown wider since he’d seen him last, his hips and love handles spreading. Teh guy’s face was bigger, cheeks blooming large. And underneath his t-shirt, Ryan could see that the man’s nipples had become pointed, pressing outwards from his puffy former pecs. “I can see that you’ve been having a very good time of things!” he joked, being in the know about how Jack’s kinky sex life worked with his girlfriend.

“I could say the same about you!” Jack smirked back, poking Ryan in his tight little paunch. “Have you and Lucy been having your own kinky fun?” he teased.

“We’re not really talking at the moment, dude,” Ryan explained straight away; keen that he didn’t have to spend the entire night talking about her. “I want out. I’ve reached the end.”

Jack winced sympathetically. “I can’t say that I’m all that surprised after the way you were talking last time. But that still doesn’t explain this,” he pointed back at Ryan’s middle, smirking.

Ryan laughed, having forgottem how quickly Jack could lift his spirits with his cheeky humour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coyly, smiling with just as much mischief.

“Yes you do!” Jack laughed back, patting Ryan’s paunch properly now. “Did you do it on purpose? Is this to piss Lucy off?”

Again, Ryan laughed. He shruged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he nodded in surprise at Jack’s bluntness. There wasn’t anyone else in the world he could imagine himself admitting this to. “I guess I did,” he smiled, resting his hand over his thicker middle like it was his new prized pet.

“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Jack blasted; his face lighting up with all the enthusiasm Ryan remembered when the pair of them used to get up to mischief in high school. “You love it, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like he was dealing with an excitable puppy, but the interest was infectious. “Well, I can’t say I’m against it,” he replied diplomatically.

“Michelle is going to love this when I tell her,” Jack pressed on, ordering them both a couple of beers. “She said at the pool party that you would make a good fatty.”

“She did?” Ryan asked, surprised that Michelle would talk about other guys in that way.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “She said you’re like me; a similar build; perfect for fattening up, apparently.”

“She really is a kinky one, your Michelle, isn’t she?” Ryan chuckled, feeling strangely aroused by the idea of her talking about him like this.

“How far are you planning on taking it?” Jack pressed him.

“The weight gain? Um, well. I’m not really thinking about anything really. I’m just having some fun,” he answered honestly.

“Dude, if you’re ever going to grow a gut in your lifetime, getting a divorce is one of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asked, only half listening now as he tried to work out why there was so much blood pumping into his groin.

“A divorce is like a free pass for so many things. No one will bat an eyelid if you start getting properly fat once you two separate.”

“Well, we’re not quite there yet,” Ryan backtracked, wincing slightly as the word ‘divorce’ came up so casually in their conversation. Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and neither had he to her.

“Just imagine it though,” Jack encouraged him. “You, sitting in your own apartment somewhere, drinking as much beer and eating as much pizza as you want after work. No Lucy complaining in the background and telling you off. No massive list of jobs to be completed at the weekend.”

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Ryan admitted; his dick now inexplicably full of blood.

“I just can’t wait to tell Michelle,” Jack said again, more delighted than ever as the pair of them settled in to watch the football game on the big screen.

The realities of splitting from his wife were somewhat different from the fantasies that Jack tried to portray, Ryan soon realised. Divorce was quickly turning into the most expensive thing he had ever done. Lucy’s parents, who had been too impoverished to hire a gardener, or a decorator, or a maintenance guy the entire time he had been married to Lucy, suddenly stumped up the cash to pay for the most cut-throat, killer lawyer for their daughter. With his head in his hands, Ryan soon realised that he was going to have to start from scratch: no home, no pensions, not even his truck for work. The only place that he could afford to live was a room in an apartment downtown, sharing with two students from the local college. Twenty nine years old and here he was, right back at the starting line.

Of the two guys he now lived with, Ryan didn’t see much of Paul, the computer science major. He was often out in the library, or hiding out in his bedroom. That worked fine. With his life turned so upside down, Ryan wasn’t exactly wanting to be dragged out to parties midweek when he had work the next morning. No, the only real pain in Ryan’s ass was Ash; the smart-mouthed literature student with a carefree attitude to life that frustrated Ryan to no end.

“You know, when you get a real job, you’re not going to be able to sit up until 3am watching a movie marathon with your waste of space boyfriend,” he complained at the guy one evening, tired from an exhausting day in work, having been constantly woken by the pair of young lovers laughing so hard at the screen.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ash huffed. “I’ve had a stressful day, okay. I don’t need this.”

“Stressful?” Ryan parroted, feeling the rage bubbling up inside him. “You want to know about stress?” he growled. “You’ve been sitting inside all day typing up an assignment on a computer screen. That’s not what real stress looks like. You’re in college - you have absolutely no idea about the real world; about trying to actually earn a living!”

Ash rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before.

Sure, Lucy knew how to press Ryan’s buttons, but this boy was on a whole other level. “You graduate with your masters in nine months!” he blasted. “What the hell do you expect to do then? You’ve got no idea, have you? How can you just wander so aimlessly through life?”

“What does it matter?” Ash sighed. “Things always work out in the end.”

“It matters because, trust me, your twenties will be over in a flash and you need to start getting somewhere in life. Not just watching movies until 3am! And certainly not with someone like Ben! You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and it pisses me off!”

“Like you, you mean?” Ash shot back, visibly annoyed. “You’ve done the whole marriage thing, the house, the cars. Yet, you're back here, sharing a shitty apartment with a couple of students. You did everything right, everything the grown-ups told you, and now look at you! Sometimes life is just like that. So stop taking out your frustrations on me and start focusing on yourself instead!”

Ryan didn’t respond. He stormed off to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Then he took a few breaths and considered what Ash had actually said to him. The guy had been right: he was taking his anger out on him. Ash was young, more academically bright than Ryan had ever been, good looking and full of personality. He had his whole life in front of him without any major mistakes under his belt yet. So why did Ryan feel the need to be such an asshole to him?

Despite not officially apologising, Ryan did make an effort to be nicer to Ash over the coming days. He still didn’t care for Ben, the guy's boyfriend, feeling that Ash could do much better. But he was polite and courteous, never failing to put in his earplugs when he knew they were going to be watching TV until late.

Ryan’s weight had not been a priority for him since he’d moved in. Any erotic fantasies he’d indulged himself in last year were thoroughly dampened by the divorce. Yet, his weight continued to climb, spurred on by the cheap, high carbohydrate diet he fell into whilst living in the apartment.

When he was with Lucy, Ryan had indulged himself in sugary treats and even high calorie supplements that he would now consider an eyewatering drain on his monthly budget. He was having to to work harder than ever to bring in the money and his paunch seemed to lose that fluffy softness of his early gains, solidifying into something firmer and more rounded as it continued to push itself out from under his chest.

New clothes were also a luxury that Ryan could ill-afford. His t-shirts fitted awkwardly around the swell of his stomach and there were many times in work when he felt a cool breeze on his butt crack. Beer was the only luxury he allowed himself in those early days, especially on the weekends, when Paul usually went back to visit his family and Ash was generally out partying with his boyfriend. In those few, blissful hours, he could guzzle down his beers whilst sitting in his underwear in front of the shared TV screen, appreciating exactly why he had given up his marriage. Life was hard, but it wasn’t always awful.

Through word of mouth, Ryan had started picking up more work on some of the other rental properties for students that littered this area of town. Desperate for the work, Ryan had been undercutting people quite dramatically in order to guarantee an income for himself. However, trying to get an early start on these types of properties was never as easy. Students were inherently lazy, he decided, whilst banging on the door of one apartment, trying to get someone to let him in. After a full five minutes, a groggy looking guy crawled to the door wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that was back to front.

“Your landlord sent me to see your air con,” Ryan eventually explained.

Without a word, the exhausted guy simply opened the door further and let Ryan get by. “You’re not going to be noisy are you?” he eventually asked. “My boyfriend is still asleep.”

Ryan looked at his watch. It was almost 10.30 in the morning. Why would anyone still be asleep now?

“It’s okay. I’m getting up anyway,” yawned another guy, waddling sleepily from the bedroom and giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. It was only then that Ryan clocked him. It was Ben, Ash’s obviously cheating boyfriend; the guy’s face suddenly looking considerably more alert as he too recognised Ryan.

“You’re not going to tell Ash, are you?” Ben shouted, having followed Ryan out of the apartment the second he had finished up; safely out of earshot of his second boyfriend.

“Of course I am,” Ryan replied simply, continuing to walk away, without stopping.

“You’re just going to make him miserable,” the guy shot back. “Is that what you want?”

At this, Ryan laughed. Guilty people always seemed to have such a terrific way of turning things back around on the other person. “Trust me,” he sniggered. “He’ll be way better off without someone like you in his life.”

“Do you think it was easy for me with Ash?” Ben started next; his tone shifting to something nastier. “It’s not exactly easy trying to feel special when your boyfriend has a massive crush on the pot-bellied daddy bear he shares an apartment with. How do you think that made me feel?”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan laughed, surprised at how far Ben was going with his bullshit. A daddy bear? He was only six years older than Ash.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Ben snapped back, getting more viscious as he realised that Ryan wasn’t willing to compromise with him. “You’re always there, or strutting about in just your underwear, drinking your beers in the living area and being overly friendly. You’ve been trying to fuck things up for the two of us for ages.”

Now Ryan did stop, turning to face Ben properly. “What planet are you living on?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “I just try to be pleasant. I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Prove it then,” Ben shot back, seizing upon an opportunity. “If you’re really not trying to fuck things up between us, you’ll let this one little indiscretion slide.”

If Ryan hadn’t just had the hardest year of his life, dealing with some of the most despicable, bullying lawyers out there, he may have fallen for Ben’s game. As it was, he wasn’t afraid of standing his ground. “Tell him by the time I get home later. Or I will.”

Ryan crept into the apartment later that evening, finding Paul in the kitchen. “You missed some drama today,” he sighed. “Ash and Ben broke up. I walked in on it all before. It was so awkward.”

“Is Ash okay?” Ryan asked, relieved that Ben had listened to his ultimatum and done the deed himself.

“He’s in his room,” Paul nodded over to the bedroom door. “We’d best leave him be.”

Ryan nodded in complete agreement, deciding to hide out in his room that evening so that Ash didn’t need to see anyone when he would inevitably have to come out for a glass of water, or to use the bathroom.

The evening was slipping away and Ryan had just finished a TV series that he had been charging through for the last two weeks. There was still an hour until he would need to get to sleep; enough time for one last beer, before the inevitable daily grind would start all over again. He strutted out of his bedroom and made for the refrigerator, pausing only briefly to crack the can open and chug a little of it. He burped quietly, finding that the first few mouthfuls of fresh beer always made him the most gassy. Then, suddenly, he heard the door to Ash’s room opening and he stood there, feeling completely caught out.

“Hi,” Ash whispered, not making any pretenses that he was here for any other reason than to see Ryan.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Ryan now regretted coming out of his room without a shirt on; his bloated pot belly on full display. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but Ben’s words had planted an unpleasant seed in his mind that made him question everything he did a little bit more. “I’m sorry to hear about Ben,” he stated straight away. “How are you doing?”

Ash sighed and began to pour his heart out. He knew all about Ryan’s discovery earlier that day and he thanked the guy for doing the right thing.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Ryan nodded, swigging the last of his beer and crushing the can for recycling. He shouldn’t have really had another one. His stomach felt quite painfully bloated and tight after it.

“Oh, and about those things that Ben said to you,” Ash quickly jumped in, seeing that Ryan was heading back to his room. “I hope it’s not going to make things awkward between us.”

Ryan had to think for a second about what Ash was getting at. The crush? Was Ben actually telling the truth about that? “Um, no. Not at all,” he mumbled back, rubbing his hair with a little embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, finally making his escape.

An evening out with Jack was exactly what Ryan needed a couple of weekends later, as Ryan’s divorce was at last finalised. Unlike Ryan’s months of hell, Jack’s appearance was symbolic of a life of sheer indulgence and pleasure. Unlike Ryan, his body was pure softness, with blubber beginning to creep its way into the guy’s neck and upper arms. His stomach had swollen quite considerably and his butt had a surprising width to it that Ryan had not expected.

“Listen, I didn’t want to message you about this. I kind of feel pretty bad asking you in some ways, knowing what you’re going through,” Jack started after Ryan had finished explaining how the divorce had eventually played out. “I wanted you to be my best man.”

Ryan smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” he beamed, getting up to hug his old friend warmly as he stayed sitting in his chair.

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “It’s not going to be a huge wedding. Not everyone approves,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, sensing that Jack needed to offload.

“Well, Michelle’s parents aren’t coming,” he huffed. “They’d watched Michelle do this to her old boyfriend,” he explained, rubbing the quite substantial shelf of belly fat under his sagging nipples. “So when the same thing started happening to me, they told her they wanted no part in it.”

“Bonus!” Ryan joked, trying to remain upbeat. “My marriage certainly would have gone a lot smoother without the in-laws.”

Jack nodded, seeming to be somewhat in agreement. “Michelle’s not too cut up about it,” he whispered. “Then, well, you remember my dad. He still goes out running three times a week. So he’s not been all that in favour of Michelle and her wholesome home cooking..”

“You can’t live your life for your parents,” Ryan jumped in. It was a lesson he had learned somewhat bitterly when his own church-goin parents had taken Lucy’s side in the divorce. It made him think back to how much they had pushed him to get married in the first place, and he began to resent them, quite justifiably in his opinion.

“I know, I know…” Jack nodded. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s it for me, y’know?”

Ryan raised his beer and they drank to that sentiment.

“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Is there someone new you’ve been holding back from me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not at all,” he stated. “Well… I mean…” he hesitated for a moment. “No. No one.”

But Jack’s interest had already been piqued. “Oh, come on. You can’t give me that and then say nothing!” he teased.

Ryan sighed, realising that he had dug himself into a bit of a hole. “It’s nothing,” he huffed at his own stupidity. “It’s just, one of the guys I live with has a bit of a crush on me.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” Jack laughed wickedly.

“Well…” Ryan conceded. “It looks that way, yes. His ex-boyfriend told me off for strutting around the place in just my underwear. He said I had a pot-belly and told me his boyfriend thinks of me as a hot daddy bear!”

Jack chuckled again. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have quite the pot-belly!”

“Isn’t it a bit weird though?” Ryan asked his friend.

“Being referred to as a daddy bear when you’re only twenty nine?” Jack asked, simultaneously nodding in agreement. “But once you put on a bit of extra meat, that’s just the way people see you. It’s much more arousing to lean into it, rather than try to fight it.”

“Lean into it?” Ryan asked. “That’s your best advice?”

“Just enjoy the attention,” Jack smirked. “So what if he’s a twenty-four year old gay guy? You don’t have to be into someone to appreciate their admiration,” he nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this one. You’ll come to see that I’m right.”

With the divorce at last over with and all lawyers paid off, Ryan began to feel the financial strain starting to ease. Lucy hadn’t been quite as successful in getting all that she wanted from him. The worst case scenario was, thankfully, avoided. A few more months of living with the boys and Ryan would soon have saved enough money to rent his own place instead. With the ties that bound him to his ex-wife now finally disappearing, Ryan began to remember why he had fought so long for this freedom.

“I’ll have the Monster Meat bucket,” he declared, walking into a fast food place and not feeling guilty about the cost for the first time in months. He sucked in the smell of all the greasy goodness and knew that this was a freedom he would never again take for granted. Now he could gorge on as much as he desired and never have to explain himself to anyone. He could literally get as fat as he wanted now he was divorced and single, with no one to please but himself.

As he settled down into a seat, Ryan felt the bliss of devoting all his attention just to his epic meal for a full 20 minutes. It was all the stress relief he had ever needed. No one in here was particularly slim and it seemed, in those moments, that he had taken himself out of a world that so frustrated him, and into one that he felt comfortable in. Sure, he could probably join a gym and drop this weight in a relatively short amount of time. He could train his body hard and attract some beautiful girl to make his ex jealous. But Ryan knew that he had moved beyond that now. He didn’t care what his ex thought of him, or anyone else for that matter.

Or was Ryan just kidding himself? Was this really a moment of clarity? Or would he soon go crawling back to a diet plan the second things started getting rough? He was desperate to believe that wouldn’t be the case, but no one could ever be totally certain when it came to the future. It was only the present he could master. And so, armed with that knowledge, he went back to the counter, even though he felt almost too stuffed to even think about food.

“I’ll have the triple burger, please,” he stated, adding another milkshake to go with it. “He felt his hardess start to tingle, like the old days when he used to do this. Back then, he’d assumed it to be some twisted excitement about pissing Lucy off. Now he realised that this was so much more. This was about taking himself to somewhere he had never allowed himself to imagine going..

“Is this for you?” Ash asked, handing Ryan two boxes of pizza. “The delivery guy was coming up the stairs as I got home.”

“About time!” Ryan sighed, taking the boxes from him and settling back into the chair in front of the sofa. Two pizzas were a necessity for the Friday night baseball game and he was already four beers down. It would have been a perfect night but for the sticky humidity that had loomed over the city for the last few days; making him strip to his boxers as soon as he got home. “Do you follow baseball?” he asked Ash politely, nodding to the couch to see if he wanted to join him; knowing that, with Paul gone for the weekend, Ash would be on his own otherwise.

“No. Watching sports is not really my thing,” Ash replied unenthusiastically, despite continuing to linger around.

“Do you mind getting me another beer then?” Ryan asked,deciding to put the guy to work if he was so free to just stand about like this.

Ash hopped to his task with remarkable speed. “Here you go,” he smiled delightedly, heading straight over and handing it over to him, not seeming to realise that he was blcoking part of the TV screen. “I’ve got some chips and dip if you want some?” he asked next.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, hoping that the guy would at least sit down then and stop getting in the way.

Once again, Ash went to his task, presenting the chips and dip much better than Ryan ever would have. He placed them on the coffee table and then finally sat himself down on the couch.

“You not having any?” Ryan asked five minutes later, noticing that it was only him actually eating.

“No, thanks,” Ash simply replied, pretending to be interested in the game. “They’re for you. Do you want another beer?”

Ryan felt the remaining liquid in his beer can and nodded, surprised by how diligently he was being looked after. Even when he asked Ash to fetch him the ice cream from the freezer later on, he was surprised that the young guy hopped to it, bouncing off the couch with an enthusiasm he had never seen before.

At the end of the game, Ryan took himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after the seven cans of beer he had ended up consuming. He looked in the mirror and marveled at the reflection he saw within it. Bloated and stuffed, Ryan had never seen his stomach looking so round and tight. Although he had upgraded his underwear a little while back, already these were looking worn and stretched, pulling the waistband down so that a good couple of inches of butt crack were on show. His muscular chest had started to build up with fleshiness in recent weeks and he placed his hand there to feel just how soft it was starting to get under his arms. He pulled the scales out with his foot and wondered just how much he weighed in this overfed state. He stepped on, waiting for the numbers to settle: 256lbs; the biggest number he had ever seen by quite some margin. It was, quite frankly, the cause of an almost instantaneous erection.

“I was wondering, if you’re still hungry, I could make you some pancakes?” Ash asked next as Ryan finally made it out of the bathroom. “I’ve got all the ingredients in.”

Ryan sat himself back down with a grunt and rubbed the shelf of his tight stomach, surprised that Ash was still hanging about the living area. Couldn’t he see how full Ryan was? Was he completely obvious to the heavy breathing and occasional grunt when he had to move, even slightly. He knew that the guy had a little crush, but what on earth was he possibly getting out of all this?

“Go on,” Ash pressed, actually trying to persuade him now. “Just a couple of them; nothing too big.”

Ryan looked up at the guy, already making his way to the kitchen and just waiting for that final nod of approval from him. Out of little more than curiosity, he agreed; watching with interest as he spied Ash settling to his task. Was he really using that much oil to fry the batter mix up? Was he actually rubbing butter into them? Did he really need to pour on that much syrup?

Despite tasting amazing, Ryan knew that every mouthful he was taking was completely and utterly packed full of calories and fat. As if desperate for his approval, Ash had watched him consume every bite of them. A sweat had begun to pour off Ryan’s forehead, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this one was caused by the humidity. “I am absolutely stuffed!” Ryan declared, grunting and rubbing the stretched out ball of stomach fat. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages,” he chuckled. “Not since I was trying to piss off my ex-wife after she told me she liked me being skinny.” “You were putting on weight on purpose?” Ash asked, quite startled by the comment.

“I was going for it, like you wouldn’t believe!” Ryan nodded. “Unless you’ve been through it, it’s hard to comprehend how petty you can be towards the end of a bad marriage,” he grinned, suddenly noticing that his hands were all over his own rounded stomach. “I was even taking this special calorie supplement shake you can buy, just to speed things up,” he laughed, thinking back.

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed knowledgeably, suddenly naming the exact brand .

They both went quiet. What a strange piece of trivia for Ash to just know, thought Ryan. The guy seemed to sense that too, suddenly looking a little sheepish.

“Do you still take them?” Ash asked next, trying to look a little less interested than his excitable voice made him sound.

“I don’t need to,” Ryan grinned, tapping his fully grown pot belly. I just weighed myself twenty minutes ago. I’ve put on another 40lbs since I moved in here. It seems that I just can’t stop these days!” He yawned, standing up and stretching. “Anyway, buddy. I need to head to sleep,” he declared, seizing upon the fact that his erection from the overeating had at last subsided.

“Do you think there is a way to tell if someone is like your Michelle?” Ryan asked the next time he caught up with Jack at the very hastily organised stag party.

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, only a little worse for wear as he and Ryan gradually fell to the back of the crowd of friends taking them to the next bar.

“You know… Someone who is into the idea of helping someone else gain weight,” Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice fairly low.

Jack chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you’ll spot them!” he nodded. They’re not exactly subtle. “They’ll find ways to ensure you’re eating and they’ll probably want to watch too. If they’re anything like Michelle, they’ll probably try to keep your activity levels low and complement you at the weirdest times; like when you’re bloated from overeating.”

Ryan nodded, taking it all in and finding a striking resemblences to Ash’s more recent behaviours. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jack considered for a moment. “The compliments,” he added next. “They’re totally bizarre. If they’re praising you for overeating, that’s a pretty sure sign. But sometimes they may try to convince you that you look better, or more masculine, or whatever it is they think you want to hear. When the reality is, you just look fat.”

Again, Ryan nodded, keen to match Jack’s thoughts to his own observations of Ash. “You see, I think I might have…”

“Come on!” shouted their drunk friends up ahead. “The night is still young. Stop waddling behind and get your big butts up here!”

Jack and Ryan smirked at each other. Despite Jack’s rather considerable extra weight, Ryan had been lumbered in exactly the same category. The pair of them were, for better or worse, the fat guys on this trip.

“You’re back!” Ash smiled late the next day as an exhausted Ryan made it home. “Did you have a nice time? Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat?”

Ryan looked again at the time. “You’re still up!” he asked with surprise, knowing that Ash always had an early class on Monday mornings.

“Well, I wanted to check that you got home okay,”Ash replied, heading to the kitchen and renewing his offer to make something for his roommate.

Smirking at the fact that he was being fussed over and mothered by a good-looking twenty-four year old, Ryan had been disappointed that he hadn’t had more alone time to discuss this situation he was in, with his buddy, Jack. “Okay,” he nodded, deciding to just let Ash do his thing. “Sure, that would be nice.” He headed for a shower, returning to find an enormous, steaming hot lasagne, glistening with grease and cheese, sitting there on a plate, ready to be eaten. “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked Ash.

Ash nodded. “I remembered you saying that lasagne used to be your favourite dish growing up. I’ve never made it before, but I made a whole bunch of them and portioned them up in the refrigerator for when you get hungry.

Ryan smiled at the effort Ash had clearly gone to for him; a whole new level of care and attention. He opened his mouth to try some and nodded in approval. The lasagne really was delicious, although it was more than obvious just how much oil, cream and several different types of cheeses had gone into it to make it really quite extremely high in calories. If all the beer and fast food hadn’t ensured his pants would be tighter tomorrow, this little calorie bomb sure would.

“How was the weekend, anyway?” Ash asked, sticking around for the show and watching Ryan devour every bite.

“Pretty good,” Ryan nodded. “I had a couple of jibes from some of my old school friends about my weight. But we all turn thirty this year, so the dad-bod is definitely where most of them are at now anyway. I’m just the one who has already graduated from that stage,” he winked at Ash, tapping his gut.

“What did they say?” Ash asked with surprising interest, placing a cushion over his crotch.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan went on, deciding to play up to whatever kinky fantasies he thought his roomate may be having. “Just pointing stuff out to me: telling me how tight my clothes are, how slow I was when we were walking to different places and calling me out on how much I was eating when we went for food.”

“They’re probably just jealous,” Ash shot back straight away.

Ryan smirked. There was no way any of the guys were in the least bit jealous of his sprouting pot belly, making him all but invisible to the many hot girls they bumped into that weekend. This was clearly just another one of those bizarre compliments that Jack had told him to look out for. “Yeah, you’re right,” he lied to Ash, rubbing his bloating gut as he chugged down a few of the sodas Ash had supplied with his late night meal. “I’m sure they are jealous, deep down.”

Stepping on the scale was not something that Ryan did all that often. He could feel his stomach’s rounded shape starting to swell even larger, and he knew, from the fit of his underwear and pants, that his thighs and butt were also bearing the brunt of all that he was consuming each day. Still, as he stepped up, early one Sunday morning, after a particularly gluttonous take-out weekend of having the apartment to himself, Ryan’s eyes widened in shock: 278lbs! “Fuck!” he blasted in shock, before laughing to himself at how fast the latest few pounds had slipped on. He really weighed that much? He didn’t feel that heavy! He strolled over to the mirror inspecting his shape. Sure, his gut was pretty well developed by now and all the extra eating had sure softened his chest up rather a lot. He spun, noting that his butt’s width was quite considerable now, with back fat bulding at his sides and folding under his shoulder blades. Yet, he still didn’t feel like he should weigh 278lbs! Somehow, he had always imagined a guy that size being much bigger than this. What Ryan actually felt as he saw himself there, was very small still; acting as a licence for him to continue to indulge.

Jack’s wedding was fast approaching as the weeks rolled by. After being fitted for their suits, Ryan and Jack headed out for something to eat.

“That tailor seemed pretty pissed off that we left it this late to get ourselves measured for the wedding outfits,” Ryan noted as they sat down and grabbed the menus. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers that they can get those pants in for you in time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack shrugged. “I put on weight every week, so there would have been no point in going any earlier. I would just have outgrown them. “I’m almost 350lbs these days.”

Ryan nodded. Jack did indeed look impressively large, yet he was only 60lbs or so bigger than he was. And Ryan still felt tiny in comparison. “I know what you mean,” Ryan agreed. “I split some pants the other day. I’d only bought them four weeks before.”

“It’s weird, isnt it. When you’re gaining weight, you’re so tuned into how your body feels and looks. Yet, at the same time, you’re completely oblivious to it as well; how tight your clothes are getting, or how large you seem to other people.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. He felt so glad that Jack noticed this as well, sparking a lively conversation between the pair.

“You’ll be getting your own place soon, I take it?” Jack asked. “The two students you're sharing with must be graduating soon?”

“A couple of months,” Ryan nodded, suddenly realising that he had been a little lazy in his hunt for a new apartment.

“That’ll be nice!” Jack smiled. “Your own space at last!”

“Well, it’s not too bad as it is,” Ryan explained. “Paul is never there at weekends. And now he’s got himself a girlfriend, he’s not there much in the week either.”

“And what about the other one? The one you used to fight with loads?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot, but… we don’t argue so much these days,” he admitted; suddenly feeling the desire to say so much more about kinky little Ash.

“Before I foget,” Jack jumped in. “Michelle wants to know who you’re bringing as your ‘plus one’ to the wedding next week.

“I’ve got a ‘plus one’?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

“Dude!” Jack grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I’ll find someone,” Ryan replied hastily, seeing how stressed Jack was getting.

“What about that girl you were hinting at when we briefly chatted during my stag party?” Jack asked, clearly keen to get a name locked in.

Ryan thought for a moment. Had Jack assumed he had some potential hot chubby chaser girl on the go? He pondered the idea, realising, quite suddenly, that he didn’t really need one. In the most unexpected way, everything that he had yearned for in life had already arrived. “Hey, Jack,” he asked thoughtfully. “How did you know that Michelle was the one for you?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Jack shot back with a sly grin.

“Besides that,” Ryan insisted. “How did you know that you guys were meant to be together?”

Jack sighed. “I guess…” he began softly, “...it was the way she made me feel: so loved and cared for; admired and adored. I’ve never felt that from anyone before.” He seemed moved, just by talking about her. “Plus she dominated me and forced me to pack on over 150lbs of pure fat; which is one of the kinkiest fucking things I could ever have imagined!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan laughed and nodded. He made a crack about how much fatter Jack might be after he got home from his honeymoon, but, really, his mind was elsewhere; with someone else entirely.

Ryan arrived home to see a large crate of beers resting on the kitchen counter tied up with a ginormous red bow. He laughed, seeing that it was his favourite brand and noticing that a large tray of assorted doughnuts lay beside it.

“Do you like your present?” Ash asked, coming out of his bedroom with a huge smile on his face.

“You bought these for me?” Ryan asked, feeling his mouth watering at the sight of the doughnuts, even after how much he had eaten with Jack that afternoon.

As if psychically linked, Ash began unpackaging the doughnuts for him, leaving them open for him to stuff one into his mouth. “They’re to say thank you. I just had my novel manuscript accepted for publishing.”

Ryan nearly spat out his doughnut. “You’ve been writing a novel?” he blasted in shock. “Since when?”

“Since you kept reminding me that I need to do something with my life; back when you first moved in.”

“I was being an asshole,” Ryan confessed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“You gave me the kick up the ass that I needed,” Ash threw back with a smile. “You always told me how clever I was and that I could do anything.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Ryan marvelled. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my life!” For weeks now, he had worried that his behavious around Ash, indulging his little feeder tendencies in subtle ways, had only brought the guy to fetishize him. Their relationship was merely one of a simple exchange: Ryan would enjoy being overfed and catered for by his roommate, and Ash would get to enjoy the subtle art of ensuring a guy that he found attractive, continued to pile on a few pounds. Now, however, every sense felt strangetly heightened in this moment of celebration. He couldn’t believe that Ash had been secretly writing away for months when Ryan had assumed the guy to be inside his bedroom, playing games. Just how blind had he been this entire time?

Ryan took a step forward and Ash did not retreat. He grabbed the much smaller guy’s shoulders and held them firmly. Again, Ash did not stop him. Then, seeing the inviting, warm look on Ash’s face, Ryan took the biggest risk of his life, going in for a kiss and desperately hoping that Ash’s lips would move to meet his.

Unbelievably, Ash was kissing him back, moaning gently, as if luxuriating in something he had never wanted more in his life. The kiss became intense, very quickly. With his shirt lifted off him, Ryan felt the handsome guy’s hands rubbing all over his stomach. Before he knew it, Ryan was being guided into the living space, his sweatpants ripped down and then his body pushed with surprisingly kinky force, back into his usual chair in front of the TV.

Ryan looked up at Ash with startled arousal. The guy seemed so naturally suited to taking charge. He would have known that this was Ryan’s first gay experience and he led the way with ease, erasing any opportunity for awkward fumblings to slip in. He cracked open one of the chilled beers and fetched the tray of doughnuts from the kitchen counter. Then, when he was sure that Ryan was settled, he plunged his whole mouth down onto the fat guy’s crotch.

Ryan’s whole body twitched.This wasn’t a blow job, he thought to himself, feeling the intense stimulation straight away. He found himself moaning, even when he was trying not to. Was this intense pleasure what it was supposed to have been like all along? Lucy had never made much of an effort with anything in the bedroom, but Ash’s mouth was doing things to him that Ryan could never have dreamed of. He supped on his beer and ate a doughnut, feeling Ash’s hands rubbing the spherical shape of his stomach, clearly getting off on making this moment all about him.

Barely two doughnuts in and Ryan felt his body lurching as it wanted to climax. Ash worked his pace even more, feeling the throbbing in his mouth. Then, when the moment came, he pushed his mouth even deeper, sending Ryan’s hardness all the way down his throat. The pleasure; the orgasm; that intensity. It was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced in his life.

There was no going back.

Over the following week, Ryan discovered that Ash had a whole arsenal of tactics to please him. Not only did the guy continue to fuss over him with his cooking and snack deliveries, but his tight, energetic little butt seemed determined to outdo every single previous sexual experience that Ryan had ever had. They spoke at length about their attraction to each other and how smitten they both had become. Ryan had no hesitation in inviting Ash to be his date for Jack’s wedding. And, in fact, spending so much time with a now professional writer, really helped Ryan to produce the best speech he could have wished for. Rather than feeling sick with nerves as the big day arrived, he felt excited and pumped, heartily stuffing himself on the big breakfast Ash had so lovingly prepared for him.

“Your friends really aren’t keen on Michelle, are they?” Ash commented later that evening, as the pair of them were reunited after Ryan’s time sitting at the top table and the endless photographs that needed taking.

“Um, no,” Ryan nodded. “Not so much.”

“I had no idea that your friend, Jack, used to be so slim before he met her,” he whispered, fearing that one of their families might overhear. “Your buddies seem to think she’s the devil incarnate!”

Ryan chuckled. He’d heard it all before. “She’s lovely really,” he tried, looking over at the pair of them as Michelle spoonfed her 350lb husband a large piece of their wedding cake. “She just… knows what she wants.”

“I think everyone here can see exactly what it is she wants,” Ash joked back as Jack’s full, swollen belly was patted with approval by his new wife. “It makes me wonder what your friends are going to say about me eventually.”

Ryan pulled Ash into him by holding his slim hips in his chubby hands. They had decided that it was best to go easy on the public displays of affection, considering that this was their first time out together as a couple. However, Ryan simply could not help himself. “Oh, yes?” he asked keenly.

“I certainly don’t have any plans to put you on a diet,” Ash grinned, fingering the skin between the stretched buttons of Ryan’s beer swollen gut.

Ryan growled in lustful approval. His hands slipped onto Ash’stight, toned butt and pulled the guy in even closer.

“In fact, how come you’re not eating a big slice of wedding cake for me right now?” Ash teased.

Ryan moaned lightly. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew how much scrutiny he was under today. He could feel the judgemental eyes upon him, for his shocking weight gain, the fit of his tight shirt, and the fact that he was dating someone none of them had ever expected. He should have been nervous or self conscious. However, with Ash in his arms, Ryan had never felt more free to be himself. “But won’t that make me even fatter?” he teased back.

Ash smiled. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” he joked, accepting the kiss that Ryan soon bestowed upon him.

Ryan felt Ash’s hands feeling his big, broad butt as they kissed; the pants he had been measured for only a week ago, starting to feel rather uncomfortable after only a week of dating the handsome twenty-four year old. The kiss ended and both of them laughed, realising how ridiculously long it had taken to get to this point.

“Is this along the lines of what you had in mind for me?” Ryan asked moments later, pushing out his stomach as far as it would go and stretching those buttons even more.

Ash seemed thrilled, looking around the room in surprise that Ryan was making himself look so large in front of everyone that he knew at the wedding. He smiled, rubbing the underside of Ryan’s ball-like gut and then leaned in to whisper. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

Ryan growled in lustful appreciation, then took his boyfriend’s hand and led the way to the wedding cake.

Exactly one year to the day, Ryan and Ash were sitting in that same room, together with Jack and Michelle, celebrating a year since the wedding. They reminisced fondly, thinking about the perfect day it had been and laughing about how shocked everyone had been after Jack came back 30lbs heavier from his two week honeymoon.

“You can’t be far off the weight I was this time last year,” Jack noted, surveying his buddy’s hefty appearance.

“Possibly,” Ryan nodded, rubbing his large stomach. “I still don’t feel big yet though,” he replied, as if he was oblivious to the enormous ball-shaped gut and the groaning of the chair, supporting his wide butt and mostrous 347lb body.

“Unless I ask him to do something,” Ash jumped in comically. “Then he always says he’s too fat to do anything!” he joked, making everyone chuckle.

“I’m actually going to be pushing Jack to five hundred pounds this year,” Michelle explained, taking her morbidly obese husband’s hand as if this was an announcement that thay had been planning for some time.

Ryan noticed Jack staring at his face for a reaction; perhaps some surprise that his old school buddy was so ensnared by his beautiful wife that he was willing to take his weight gain to such extremes for her.

“He’s going to be a lot of work for you at that size!” Ash grinned conspiratorily at Michelle. “I hope you’re ready for that?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m counting on it!” Michelle smirked, rubbing the 430lb man’s knee under the table.

“You’re a very lucky guy,” Ryan nodded at his friend in approval.

“There you go, Ash,” Michelle smirked. “It sounds like we may have another willing volunteer to join the five hundred pound club,” she nodded towards a jealous looking Ryan.

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Ryan laughed. “Ash is heading off on his second book tour in March. “I won’t be gaining anything for almost two months whilst he’s gone. I’ll probably just wate away!”

“You liar!” Ash teased him back. “Last time I was away, you pretty much lived on takeout and put on almost twenty pounds in a month,” he chuckled.

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Ryan smiled back; his voice dripping with affection and lust.

Michelle looked at them both, clearly wanting to cut through their mushy meanderings. “So, five hundred pounds?” she asked again, trying to circle the conversation back. “I’m getting the impression that you boys are kinky enough to enjoy seeing that on Ryan,” she pressed; ever the bad influence.

Ryan and Ash looked at each other with a wicked excitement in their eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Ash stated diplomatically. Unlike Michelle, he liked to be a little more discreet about his kinks and fantasies when it came to enjoying Ryan’s large body.

Ryan smirked and winked at his old buddy Jack. He knew exactly how to read between the lines of whatever Ash said. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to get Ryan to that size. And so, just like his high school best pal, Ryan was as good as setting sail for five hundred pounds. How insanely arousing was that?

“Eat up, my friend,” Ryan smiled competitively at Jack. “I’m coming for you, Fat Boy!”

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer story #gainerstories #gainer fic

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enbyfrogwrites · 5 months ago

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oh lil headcannons cuz yuh

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i think this is gonna be both nsfw and sfw- so chef kiss-

headcannons about mr gojo satoru (and him being your good pet)

tags: nsfw, pegging, oral both receiving, name calling (satoru getting called slut,,etc etc), sub!gojo, needy!gojo, reader is nb coded as per usual (afab cuz i am duh), reader is also FAT not chubby or chunky- we talkin 2 sum to do sum. reader is also mixed coded

there's some sfw but this is gonna be mostly nsfw i guess, anyways don't like? don't read. minors and ageless blogs dni PLEASE

word count: ~1.5k (yikes this is just rambling tho)

sfw:

-oh man gojo's whipped,, oh you mention something you was thinking about?? oh he's getting it for you even though you didn't ask him to

-he purposely gets you clothes that shows your tummy and stretch marks, more cuz he likes looking at them at any point when you two are in public than anything else

-gets upset when you have random bouts of depression and low esteem about your body. (you initially thought that he was shallow and didn't want to be seen with you out in public because of your apron belly and back rolls...he quickly shut that down)

-purposely holds you in front of his big ass mirror that he has in his room...for reasons...ahem,, he holds firmly as he murmurs softly in your ear about how much he loves you and what he loves to look at on you

-whenever he eats sweets, he always gets extra of what you've told him that you liked, always (he's not going to tell you, but you've found his stash of snacks that he has specifically for you)

-unconsciously he does in fact grab at your apron belly. not even like to feel it or anything,, it's like a comfort thing???? like you two watching tv and cuddling? grabs. you're washing dishes and he comes from behind you? your stomach is the first thing he holds when he wraps his arms around you

-your belly and thighs are gojo's fave place to lay on. hands down. your warmth radiates and he's addicted...

-also when people call him a chubby chaser, he immediately shuts it down. not that he's ashamed of you or anything, just the fact that he thinks it's stupid as hell to have a label. he fell in love with you for You, not your looks or shape, Duh.

-not to be an asshole, but when gojo first saw how physically strong you were when you defeated a curse with not a single scratch on you? he deadass was shocked lowkey; not in a way of fat shaming or anything just the fact that you're a shit ton stronger than he thought tbh

-if it happens that you're a teacher in the school, he would specifically visit your classroom to just be a bother. sitting in the back of the class and asking dumb questions so you can huff and pout your cheeks on your beautiful round cheeks at him.

-his favorite thing to do is make you smile. his wallpaper on his phone is when you two were on a date and he took a picture of you when you weren't paying attention.

-speaking of pictures, he gets so upset when you don't like to take pics of yourself. on multiple occasions when you said anything mentioning your double chin, your rolls, the way your stomach looks in your clothes, etc etc; gojo get's so frustrated with you. like how can you not see how perfect you look to him

-for the first time you spent the night at his place for whatever reason, you REFUSED to have any part of your skin showing, you wore pants, socks, a big ass tshirt. gojo literally was so heartbroken that when you two got up in the morning he had a discussion about how much he loves you.

uhhhhhhhhhhh i guess n//sfw neooooow:

-the first time you and gojo got intimate? you initially actually refused to be touched, all you did was constantly give him handjobs and blowjobs. tbh it was frustrating the hell out of the both of you, but you "didn't want to scare him off"

-when you finally actually slept with the poor man, you were a ball of nerves. you refused to take off your shirt at first, and only let him hit it from the back for a while.

-that shit deadass broke gojo's heart, almost to tears tbh. when you started to cry the first time you stood completely naked in front of him. it took time to calm you down, but gojo was so appalled to find out that you thought so low about yourself.

-after the first time he saw you naked, gojo purposely began Worshipping you, making sure that you Knew that he loved literally every single inch of your body

-when you finally built up the courage to ride him? GYAT DAYUM. to say gojo was in heaven? was an understatement. when he saw you, and your absolutely perfect body bouncing on his cock? to say he came so fast that he almost had a trolley horse??? he didn't wait to recover from his orgasm before flipping you on your back and fucking folded you in half and plowed you

-gojo's favorite thing he ever got for his birthday was you in lingerie. so serious. you never dressed up in anything "scandalous". you told him you felt too self-conscious and embarrassed. which gojo didn't want to push the issue since he at least got you to feel comfortable to be naked around him. (1/4)

-continuing his birthday. it was late at night when you two came from celebrating his birthday. you told him to sit on his bed while you wanted to go to his bathroom to "freshen up". He already had you dress in his favorite clothes so he was half hard the whole evening to be frank. but when you came out of his bathroom, cladded in delicate phthalo green lace, with matching garters and thigh highs; gojo almost passed out how fast his cock hardened. (2/4)

-how can you look so ethereal?? you felt so embarrassed because you were just standing there, and he was just...Staring at you. you began to shy away from gojo before he finally opened his mouth. when on closer inspection, you saw he had to wipe his face since he was drooling. (3/4)

-"no no no no please- no don't go-" the words fumble out of gojo's mouth, cracking at the end. his bright eyes round as saucers as he made his way to where you were by the bathroom door. he fell to his knees as he gazed on your body- your stretch marks and rolls on clear display. to say in the least when he begged where you got your set from- he BOUGHT THE WHOLE STORE (4/4 fin bday thing)

-his favorite thing he loves to eat is sweets-that's what he tells everyone. cake, cookies, mochi, fruit, you,, the last one he doesn't tell anyone else. but to him that's his favorite thing to eat, Ever. oh you had a bad day at work? he eats you out for forever. He had a bad day at work? he eats you out for forever. tbh when he's bored he kinda navigates himself towards your hole. it's so addicting to him. makes him hard just thinking of what you taste like- even when he's in the middle of a mission.

-oop he didn't tell Anyone. but You found out his secret. everyone depends on gojo; his friends, family, clan, students...everyone has to count on him. he's the strongest of course. not to you though. never to you... when you and him were bickering on what position to be in, your voice cut through him. you Demanded him to lay down and let you take control. (1/6 sub gojo)

-the Whimper that left that poor man's throat? was so Delectable. You felt your eyes blink owlishly at gojo before you immediately climb on top of him. your hands quickly coming up to his chest before going further up to the meaty parts of his shoulders. you swiftly put a lot of your weight on your hands, pinning gojo to the bed. (2/6)

-"ohhhh if i knew you were such a Slut, i've would've done this ages ago" the only noise that came out of your boyfriend's mouth a choked whine as you watched his already flushed face, turn even redder. his head involuntarily nodding at your words. (3/6)

-"y-yeah im your slut" was the only sentence gojo can muster before his pretty eyes screwed tight in embarrassment. OH? oh- now this is new. you didn't think he was soo...nasty. so needy and you can watch how your boyfriend unconsciously leaned into your touch like a man starved. (4/6)

-your right hand came up and grabbed gojo's face, squishing his cheeks as your face came closer to his. your boyfriend's eyes shot open at your harsh grip, and you can see his eyebrows furrow so cutely together. you also happen to notice that his cock bounced and twitched almost violently when you FORCED gojo to look you in your eyes (5/6)

-"prove it then. prove that you're my slut. i want you to cum as many times as i want you to, but you have to tell me Every time" well, everyone knew he was loud anyways but you were so glad that your boyfriend lived in his own home- his screams most definitely would've caused a noise complaint (6/6 sub gojo)

***so anyways i think i wrote enough bc i feel like this wasn't even that good. shrugs. anyways pls send me any good ideas to write about...i think im just a sub!jjk blog atp idk

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bluejayblueskies · 9 months ago

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Aftershocks | knifemartin

(IDs in alt text)

Another favorite Rusty Quill Gaming fic of mine--Aftershocks by @knifemartin! I was absolutely blown away by the worldbuilding, the varying relationships and their different forms of love and intimacy, and the clear and vivid visuals throughout. I have been craving Zolf, Wilde, and Sasha living together as a happy little family ever since I finished it, and I think often about the scene where Zolf discovers that Wilde is an angel. The various visuals in the story definitely inspired this bind--in particular, the gold and white of Wilde's former and current wings and the wings themselves.

This is another book that makes use of the new things I learned during Renegade's February binderary event. It also uses double-core endbands, has trimmed (and splattered) edges, and uses a chapter header motif that I've seen floating around in bookbinding spaces occasionally and that I've been wanting to implement in some of my own binds! I was also able to finally make use of the white fibrous paper with gold squares stamped onto it (for the half-title page) and the gold fabric-like paper (for the endpapers), both of which I've had in my paper horde for ages.

And, of course, my favorite part of this bind--the wings on the covers! I found a tutorial online for an angel wing wall decoration, scaled it down, and cut out all the feathers using my Silhouette and a white fabric/paper roll I picked up at a used craft store (I think it's wallpaper, but I'm not quite sure!). Then, I glued all the feathers down to a base before gluing the wings themselves to the covers. I really like the 3D effect I got by not gluing down the tips of the feathers, and I think they feel really nice to the touch! I had a very strong vision for this book, and being able to realize it so cleanly was so so much fun.

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #fanbinding #bookbinding #jay's bound books

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bloodmoonmuses · 11 months ago

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sun-faded youth; shimmering potentiality | choi beomgyu

genre: choi beomgyu x reader, childhood friends to lovers, angst (like, wayyy more angsty than I anticipated lol), eventual fluff

wc: 3.2k

warnings: some swearing, mentions of food

summary: one day, after disappearing from your life for three years, beomgyu returns to place in which you grew to love him most: your childhood home.

The sun faded wallpaper of your childhood home would be remembered as the backdrop to your early morning adventures. Clad in your Princess Belle costume and Beomgyu in his Superman cape, the two of you wake to brave the world. Side by side, as always.

You and Beomgyu are alike in every way. You like the same foods (applesauce and goldfish crackers). You like the same TV shows (Spongebob). You like the same activities (drawing and playing make-believe). You like the same time of day (morning). Every Saturday, Beomgyu would come over to your house for breakfast. While your mother made blueberry pancakes, the two of you would craft.

You remember one day in particular, the memory wrinkling at the edges like a withering flower:

Strewn haphazardly across the living room is an array of crafting materials. Crayons, glitter, colorful paper, magazine scraps- it almost resembles a candy shop in how colorful it all is. Beomgyu snatches a glue stick away from you, using it to paste some torn pieces of newspaper to his hodge-podge of an art project. Picking up a pair of scissors, he cuts a few notches out of the top of the paper, making triangular peaks. His little hands can barely hold the scissors. They’re clunky in his grasp.

Despite his small hands, Beomgyu is quite tall for a 6 year old. Your eyes drift to your heights etched into the archway. A red line at age 2: You’re about 3 feet tall. Beomgyu is 3 and a half feet tall. A blue line at 4 years old: You’ve barely grown. Beomgyu has doubled in size. Most recently, there’s only an inch difference in your height. You’re finally catching up to him.

When satisfied with his embellishments, Beomgyu bends the paper and glues the ends together. He holds up his creation gleefully, wearing a huge grin that’s toothy in the best way.

“It’s a crown,” he declares, voice buoyant and as clear as a bell.

“Make me one too!” You demand.

Beomgyu crosses his arms and pouts. “You can’t be a prince!” he says. "I’m a prince.”

You roll your eyes at him. Boys are so simple, as your mom always said. Your best friend was no exception. “I wanna be a Queen, Beomgyu. It’s different.”

“Nuh-Uh!” He shakes his head furiously.

“Yuh-huh!” you contest.

“You’re full of it,” Beomgyu says. He turns away from you, placing the crown on his own head triumphantly.

You talk at his back. “Queens are, like, more better than princes, silly.”

At this, Beomgyu promptly turns back around, still grinning with his pouty lips. In all honesty, arguing was his favorite pastime. He liked seeing you riled up. “Meanie,” he says.

“Stupid,” you retort, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Nerd.” Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at you. How princely, you think.

“Loser-”

“Time for breakfast!” your mom calls out from the kitchen.

The memory dissipates, like mist momentarily illuminated by a ray of sunlight only to then disappear into the sloth of a summer day. You try to grasp onto it, but with each passing day it more so resembles a daydream than a lived experience. All you have left is the occasional recounting of your youth with your mother.

Sometimes, you wish you didn’t remember Beomgyu at all.

It’s the summer before your senior year of college. You’re back in the same home you grew up in. Your mother refused to sell the house, even after all these years. In many ways, you’re grateful for this. In others, it makes you angry. Beomgyu hasn’t spoken to you since highschool graduation. It’s been three years. A part of you thought he’d drift back to you eventually. He knew where you lived. He knew where to find you. But he never came.

“Have you heard from Gyu?” Your mother would often ask.

You were never sure where it all went wrong. You loved him as much as you could possibly love someone without literally fusing into their form. Your eyes beheld the same stars as his but saw different constellations. Hearts that once followed the same rhythm were now out of sync. Your love couldn’t scale the distance. It couldn’t withstand the time, or weather the storm of your respective metamorphoses. When the flood passed, the clouds parted and the sun emerged, you weren’t gifted a prophetic rainbow. Instead, you were left with nothing.

“What do you think?” You’d always say, venom lacing your tongue.

Your mother looked at you with softened eyes. “Sore subject?”

“Yeah. Sore subject.”

Regardless of your fluctuating bitterness, being home did bring you comfort to some degree. You liked being shrouded in familiarity. Per the tradition, albeit without Beomgyu, you and your mother are making pancakes. There’s a wordless groove between the two of you, your mother measuring out the ingredients while you mix them accordingly. When the consistency is to your liking, you gently fold blueberries into the batter.

As you’re reaching for a pan, there’s a knock at the door. Well, four knocks. You hear Beomgyu’s voice in your head: A fourth to let you know it’s me.

It can’t be. There’s no way. Last time you checked, Beomgyu wouldn’t be back in town for another week. (Not that you’ve been stalking his socials or anything like that.)

Your mom dusts her hands off on her apron, then walks to answer the door. You remain in the kitchen, stricken with something you’ve never felt before. It feels as though you’re in quicksand, sinking into the floor beneath you.

“Gyuie! My little pumpkin, it’s been so long!” It’s really him. The gleeful timbre of your mother’s voice makes you nauseous. She doesn’t sound like a real person. How she can just pick up where they left off is beyond you. She doesn’t know of the guilt, the shame, the confusion that you’ve been harboring for the past few years. You’re sodden with pain.

When you walk into his line of vision, Beomgyu freezes, but only for a second. “I’m still taller than you,” he says. There’s a smirk dancing on his lips. Typical.

You’re instantly transported to your younger self, so full of admiration for him. Looking up to him- both physically and figuratively. He’s in a black tee and baggy jeans, looking laid back and nonchalant. Except, you know better. His nose is twitching, a tell that he’s actually a bit nervous. He’s grown into his face. His eyes are just as bright as you remember them. You’re happy to see that his spark isn’t gone. Then, that fondness twists into something hot- liquid and molten at the pit of your stomach. You wash away your distorted reverie, stepping back into your body.

You see Beomgyu eye the archway of the living room. The height markings have been painted over.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. It’s all you can bring yourself to say. There’s a bite to your tone, one that you don’t expend much effort concealing, and Beomgyu looks visibly wounded. He quickly recovers, scrunching his nose as he takes your anger on the chin.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to see your mother gathering her belongings. “I’m gonna head to the grocery store. Forgot to get bacon to go with the pancakes.” She grabs her purse and walks to the entryway. “Put the pancake batter in the fridge. Beomgyu, you know you’re always welcome here. Be good, kiddos.”

When she exits, the door slamming with such finality that it rattles your bones, you stand there in silence. No words are exchanged, but his eyes are saying so much. They’re swirling with a mixture of hurt, embarrassment and yearning. You look away.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu says. “I really am.”

You want to speak, but the words never come. Not when you need them most. Regardless, Beomgyu isn’t one to back down. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed-”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off. More silence follows.

Beomgyu pivots. “Is the treehouse still in the backyard?”

“Yeah,” you say carefully. Your voice sounds like it's running away from you. “Haven’t been in it in years.”

“Wanna check it out?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

When you climb into the treehouse, your heart lurches. It’s a time capsule- a snapshot of forgotten dreams and naivete. There’s a dusty toy box, likely rusted shut from lack of use. In the corner is a pile of blankets and pillows. A few chairs are stacked in the far back, and fairy lights are still strung to the ceiling. On the walls are your drawings, fantasies of princes and princesses rendered in waxy crayon. It instantly brings tears to your eyes.

“Needs sweeping,” you say, sniffling.

Beomgyu chuckles. “The queen doesn’t keep her castle clean. Shocker.”

You scoff. “Can’t manage the kingdom on my own.”

“Prince and Queen are very different roles, you know,” Beomgyu jokes back.

“Well, you didn’t want to be my king, clearly.”

Beomgyu again takes your jab in stride, shrugging it off. “Going for jester instead nowadays.”

After exploring the treehouse a bit more, Beomgyu positions the chairs in a triangular formation. He whacks the dust off the blankets, and drapes them over. Then, he climbs under the fort, placing another blanket underneath. He adds some pillows and settles there, motioning for you to join him. You shake your head.

“Oh come on, _______. Get in here.”

“Fine.” You enter the pillow fort and lay on your back next to him.

“Look what I found,” says Beomgyu. From behind him, he takes out a paper crown- the same one from your wistful memory. “Here.” He places the crown on your head and it fits perfectly. As he does so, he looks directly in your eyes, a blush appearing on his cheeks and nose. His hair is slightly damp with sweat. The humid heat of summer drapes over the entire room, intensified by the tiny shelter under which the two of you lay.

“How’s college?” you ask.

“Fine. Soobin stays on my ass, not that I get into much trouble anyway.”

“You’re in a band, right?”

Beomgyu makes a face at you and you flush. You could’ve sworn he told you about the band before he left. He used to talk your ear off about his dreams of joining one. You had seen some pictures on Instagram of Beomgyu and a few of his friends playing shows at random dive bars in their little college town. Now he knows you check his page periodically.

“Stalker.”

“Loser.”

“Wow. Great comeback, stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker.”

“Whatever you say, weirdo.” You smack his arm. “But to answer the question you totally don’t know the answer to; Yes. I’m in a band. You’ll have to meet the guys one day. You won’t believe how tall Kai has gotten. And there’s this guy, Yeonjun- the girls go crazy over him.”

“What about you?” you continue. “Do people go crazy over you?’

“Not anyone I care about.”

You turn on your side to face Beomgyu, your noses so close they almost touch. His hair falls over his eyes, long and floppy. He’s grown so much. You wish you were there to see the bags under his eyes form. To see his smile lines deepen and shoulders grow broader. You subconsciously reach to sweep a few strands of hair out of his eyes, tucking the tendrils behind his ear, and admire his pretty face.

“You actually look more like a prince than a rock star,” you muse.

“Not a rock star. I’m just in a band. Which you already knew.”

“I actually hate you.” Beomgyu laughs, eyes forming half moons.

Your mind is racing. You have so many questions to ask him- questions you thought you’d never get the answers to. He’s here, real and tangible, and you’re terrified that he’s an apparition- that at any moment, you’ll wake up and realize you’ve been dreaming. You try your best to not impose your own wants onto him, but all you can see is the little boy to whom you divulged all your secrets. Now, you want nothing more than to run away from him, as quickly and as far as possible, so that he can feel what you felt so many years ago.

“Why’d you leave without telling me?” The words leave your mouth before you can even register that you’re speaking.

“I’m not good at goodbyes.” Beomgyu attempts to chuckle it off, always trying to confront his shortcomings with some type of levity. His smirk is more like a pained grimace.

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” you confess. “You were my best friend, Beomgyu.”

“If you had told me to stay with you, I would’ve in a heartbeat.”

“I wouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. I always knew you wanted to go to a bigger school with more opportunities.” You’re exasperated, pinching your nose bridge in annoyance.

“I know, but if you had even suggested it-”

“Well, I didn’t! I didn’t do anything but support you, Gyu- like I always have! And you punished me for it.”

Unlike your childhood, the memory of Beomgyu leaving is burned onto the back of your eyelids. When you close your eyes, you see it so vividly:

You had just graduated highschool. You and Beomgyu had agreed to meet in your treehouse right after the ceremony. He was the first person you wanted to celebrate with. You biked all the way home, still in your cap and gown, feverishly pedaling down the streets of your neighborhood. The town was ablaze with elation. Music blared in the streets and confetti littered the ground.

When you arrived, you threw your bike to the ground, not even bothering to prop it up on its kickstand. You climbed up into the treehouse, only to find it empty. You checked your phone. No messages from Beomgyu. You figured he had forgotten. You mounted your bike and made your way to Beomgyu’s house a few blocks over. In his bedroom window, you saw a girl caressing his face- similarly to how you would when Beomgyu was sad. She fluttered her lashes at him and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. You recognize the twisting of your gut as jealousy.

When did Beomgyu slip from your grasp? Did he fall in love with her while you fell in love with a hypothetical- shimmering potentiality providing you comfort as you accepted the inevitably of your separation. Three months of summer together, then what? You’d confess your love for him and ruin the near decade of friendship your relationship boasted? It was a risk you weren’t willing to take, so you held the secret close to your chest, to wither away with the rest of your forgotten dreams.

Your vision whites out, fuzzy and blurred. You end up walking your bike home and crying for the rest of the day. In the following weeks, Beomgyu didn’t call, visit or even send you a text.

You tried one more time, the night before you drove up to campus, to see him, knocking on his door four times. His mother answered, looking at you solemnly.

“Hi, Mrs. Choi! Is Beomgyu here?”

“No, he left for school last weekend darling.” she had said. You felt the soft spot in your heart for Bomegyu harden, and walked home in the cold.

Your body jolts back to the present and you realize you might’ve never moved on from this day. Beomgyu shakes you from the thought, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry, _______,” he whispers.

You take the crown off of your head, giving it to Beomgyu. “I… admired you so much back then, even though I’d never admit it,” you say. “I wanted to be just like you. Now we couldn’t be more different.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we can get to know each other as we are now,” Beomgyu suggests. Always hopeful, never one to play the pessimist. It’s one of things you loved about him most. “It’ll be a new adventure for us both.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I admired you too, by the way,” he adds. “I wanted to be as headstrong as you. Do you still draw? Do you still want to be an artist?” Beomgyu looks at you with wild curiosity. It’s like you’re meeting him for the first time all over again.

“Yes, and yes. You thought I was headstrong?”

“You’re the only person who put up with my bullshit. So, yeah. Very headstrong.”

Suddenly, your stomach growls. Loudly. Beomgyu stifles a laugh and asks, “Wanna cook up those pancakes?”

In the kitchen, you wait until bubbles rise to the top and flip the pancakes accordingly. Beomgyu rummages through the fridge, pouring two glasses of orange juice. You sit at the dining table, side by side.

“I have a confession to make,” Beomgyu says. “I hate blueberries. I ate them because you like them.”

You gasp. “Gyu! I would’ve lived without the damn blueberries!”

“I’ll just eat around them,” he says with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath.

You take a bite of your pancake, a blueberry bursting in your mouth. As you eat, you help Beomgyu pick around the blueberries in his. When done with your meal, the two of you wash dishes. He washes and you rinse. The sloshing of water and clinking of dishes orchestrate your movements. You catch up with one another while cleaning, joking around like you used to. Out of nowhere, Beomgyu plops a cluster of bubbles onto your nose.

“You did not!” you exclaim, immediately repaying the favor by throwing suds back at him.Then, there’s bubbles everywhere, flying and floating in the air like dandelion fluff.

“I absolutely just did, loser!” Beomgyu says, chasing you around the kitchen with more bubble ammo.

“Nerd!” you yell out as you run away from his attack.

“Stalker!”

“I am not a stalker!!!” In your tizzy, you slip and fall on some soap, Beomgyu promptly falling on top of you right after. Hovering above you, he bores into your visage fondly, deep eyes sparkling with affection. He looks like a dream. Then, like in some of your dreams, he leans down and kisses you. He takes his time, gently moving against you. It takes a second for your body to catch up with your mind, but when you do, you’re kissing him with the fervor of three years, four knocks, a lifetime of shared pancakes and the burgeoning of unabashed love. He cradles your face closely, not wanting to let you go.

When he comes up for air, Beomgyu says, “It’s a good thing saying goodbye isn’t really my thing, ‘cus I have no intention of saying it to you any time soon.”

As Beomgyu leans back in to kiss you again, the front door swings open.

“The grocery store was a madhouse, but I managed to get some bacon,” your mom says. “Oh! Oh, I didn’t–” She closes her eyes dramatically, dropping her shopping bag on the floor.

You and Beomgyu instantly stand to your feet, putting as much distance in between you as possible.

“Mom, please don’t make it awkward,” you groan.

“I mean, I always had my suspicions, but–” she starts.

“Mom! Please!”

Your mother smiles knowingly. “So I guess this means you two made up?”

a/n: unedited + feedback is always appreciated!

#bloodmoonmuses #beomgyu fic #choi beomgyu #txt fic #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #txt x reader #beomgyu fluff

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sixeyescurseuser · 9 months ago

Text

Thinking about figure skater Gojo who tirelessly trains to qualify and compete at the next Olympic Games.

Gojo is such a legend in the skating world, very well known for his jaw-dropping, difficult performances, handsome looks, and charming personality! He was built for the spotlight.

Naturally, he has many global fans, fan accounts, and ordinary people who follow his career.

People who meet Gojo in-person after having only seen him on tv are shocked at how tall he is, yet manages to skate so well. All those triple and quad axels? And the amount of grace and power he skates with is insane considering his build.

Once, an interviewer asks Gojo what other skaters he admires? Gojo talks about a few current big names, then sneaks in a mention of, “Oh, Suguru is also in my list , hehe.”

The interviewer chuckles alongside him, yet can’t help but ask, “Suguru…who?”

Later, Geto Suguru nearly spits out his water while watching the interview posted on Youtube. He doesn’t hesitate to text his boyfriend.

Geto: “Why do you keep bringing me up? I literally just skated in high school 😭”

Gojo sends back an old video of Geto’s skating routine from a regional competition: ❤️❤️

Geto: “WHY DO YOU STILL HAVE THIS?”

Gojo: “heyyy >:(“

Gojo: “It makes me happy 🥰 I loved watching you”

***

Growing up, Gojo and Geto skated at the same club. But while Gojo continued skating as his professional career after, Geto dropped skating in order to focus on his academics in college.

Gojo often reminisces on the long practices they had where they would watch each other run through their routines and give each other feedback, when they would mess around and throw the craziest combinations just for shits and giggles.

He didn’t realize their time together on the rink would be so short in the long run, but they began dating when they were only sixteen, and have been going strong together since.

Gojo is still lucky to have Suguru to come home to after his long days at the rink.

After college, Geto went on to become a marine biologist, where he does a lot of work in ocean wildlife conservation. He’s either on a boat collecting data for research or in the lab analyzing his sample results.

Gojo is not only busy training in Japan, but he also frequently travels to train in different countries. Gojo receives lots of updates from Suguru in the form of selfies and blurry photos with ocean wildlife or results from the lab.

Suguru in the lab with his ppe (personal protection equipment). Suguru wearing his wet suit while investigating algae farms. Suguru smiling while holding a crab.

Gojo makes the last one his lock screen. Suguru just looks so cute with his hair pulled back, and when Gojo holds his finger down on the live photo, he can hear Suguru’s voice talking in baby to the crab.

(Geto’s wallpaper is a selfie of them when they were teens.)

Geto gets super excited telling Gojo about his new findings, taking the time to explain different facts and technical terms. Gojo eagerly nods along on the phone and asks questions, commenting, “No way! The algae increased nearly double the amount with your XXX solution? That’s amazing!”

***

Gojo loves what he does, but it’s always a relief to come back home and find his comfort place in Suguru’s arms.

Nothing beats taking a shower and raiding Suguru’s closet after, cooking dinner with his boyfriend, and then cuddles on the couch.

The first thing they see when they turn on the tv is a sports reporter announcing Gojo Satoru's third national championship title, and what it means for the road to the Olympics.

“Oh wow, this guy is on a roll. He should train for the Olympics or something,” Geto says.

Gojo simply buries face in Suguru’s neck and snickers: “Or something.”

***

Once, while getting ready to sleep one night, Gojo whispers in Geto’s: “Remember that one time you ripped your pants during the Junior Grand Prix?”

Geto doesn’t react at first.

Then, without warning, he tries to smother his boyfriend with his pillow.

***

One of the best memories is when Geto surprised Gojo by showing up in-person to one of the abroad competitions.

In the middle of his post-win interview, still in his competition suit, makeup dewey and hair fluffy, Gojo suddenly spots a familiar face behind one of the paparazzi.

Gojo is literally mid-answer when he locks in and SPRINTS to get his boyfriend in his arms.

“Suguru!!” Gojo shouts. He’s already leaping and oh, Suguru’s arms readily catch him.

Geto laughs with his whole chest, squeezing tightly around Gojo’s middle.

“Hello, darling.”

Gojo has to finish the interview but he’s so bubbly now because teehee Suguru is right there and watching proudly.

Gojo needs him in his bed immediately.

After the interview, Geto explains he got his lab assistants to cover their project for the next week so he could fly out and visit Gojo in Australia!

Gojo happily drags Geto back to his hotel room, giggling and babbling about the plans they could have for the next week. The couple excitedly discuss outings to art and performance events, to the beach, even the zoo - which Geto is ecstatic for.

Upon entering the hotel room, Geto quickly drops his luggage off in the corner. Gojo is still yapping when Geto suddenly walks him backwards to the bed.

The back of Gojo’s knees hit the edge and he falls back with an “oof!”

Geto smoothly crawls on top to lay his whole body weight on his boyfriend’s.

Gojo chuckles. He combs through Suguru’s hair and continues his talking, knowing Suguru is tired from traveling and this will help them both relax.

Gojo gradually runs out of things to say, and the soft breaths against his neck tell him yep, he unfortunately needs to poke his boyfriend awake so they can both shower and freshen up before bed.

Gojo pats Geto’s lower back. “Suguru, wakey wakey.”

No response.

Pat pat on the lower back again, then smoothing his hands up to pat the upper-back.

“Babyyy, wake up. We need to shower. And eat.”

Geto offers a protesting grunt, then nuzzles against Gojo’s neck.

This leaves Gojo no choice.

He sneaks a hand down to pinch Geto’s ass.

“Ouch- hey what the fuck?”

Gojo yelps when he feels Suguru pinch his nipple in retaliation, then rolls off Gojo’s body to head toward the bathroom.

Five minutes later, the couple shower together while casually recapping the results of the skating event.

“Any feedback for me today?” Gojo asks. Geto hums, more focused on massaging the shampoo into Gojo’s hair. He applies the perfect amount of pressure that makes Gojo moan in appreciation.

“The only feedback I have is that you look amazing out there, Satoru. All the hard work you put into training clearly pays off. I am so so proud of you,” Geto says, dropping a kiss to Gojo’s nape.

Gojo preens, and completely surrenders himself to his boyfriend's tender touches.

#jjk #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #goge #figure skater gojo #marine biologist geto #satosugu au #cerdrabbles #fluff

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catpile-irl · 3 months ago

Text

A few weeks later, Dean comes home tipsy–okay, so maybe he's a little bit drunk. One quick beer after he got off work turned into several more, he’s not quite sure how many, enough that the bar was clearing out and the bartender was looking pointedly in his direction by the time he was finishing his last one. But he’s home now – home being the squat shithole motel of the week, peeling wallpaper and cigarette burns on the carpet – clumsily taking off his boots and leaving them haphazardly next to the doormat, tossing off his jacket onto the chair as he walks by. He debates the merits of brushing his teeth but decides the noise and light are too likely to wake Sammy.

Sammy is the only other one in the room, since John is on a hunt this week (and last week, and most of the week before that, and probably next week too), in the bed furthest from the door. Even when John is gone for the night they leave his bed alone and sleep together. He strips down to his boxers and undershirt and slips into bed next to Sam, trying to be gentle but clumsy in his drunkenness, fluffing the cheap motel pillow as he settles in. But Sam’s awake, rolls over to face him as soon as Dean gets comfortable, eyes shining in the light leaking through the shitty blinds from the parking lot.

“You smell like a brewery,” he says, nose wrinkling up. Dean can just barely see him, but he looks tired and sweet, Sammy always looks so young when he’s tired, it makes something ache inside Dean’s chest. It makes him want to pull him in and hold him to his chest where he’s safe, lay kisses on the top of his head, call him baby and tell him everything’s going to be alright always. Stuff that Sam would never allow these days. Instead he ruffles his hair and says, “That’s probably because I drank one, little brother,” as Sam tries to duck away from him.

“Surprised you’re home at all. What, no girls at the bar tonight?”

Dean stops, not sure where that came from. He thinks about answering, thinks about saying no, no girls at the bar tonight, what a ripoff, there must have been some ladies night at another bar or something, but he doesn’t feel like lying. The truth is there were plenty of options at the bar tonight, a couple of them not at all subtly eyeing him up and down as he walked by to use the bar bathroom, but he wasn’t interested. He thought about trying his luck, but he also thought about Sammy alone in the double bed they were stuck sharing this month, and the couple times since then he’s been able to listen in to him jerking off, and the call was too strong. He’s sober enough to acknowledge how fucking sick he his for that train of thought, for giving up a sure thing for the possibility of hearing his fourteen-year-old little brother rub one out in the dark, but not sober enough to resist the urge.

So instead he says, “Why do you ask? Are you jealous?” voice dipping down as he teases him.

“You want a girlfriend of your own?”

Sam huffs.

“What’s the point? It’s not like we stay anywhere long enough to actually get to know anyone, much less kiss them. ”

Dean wants to laugh at the innocence in that statement but doesn’t want to make Sam feel bad.

“There’s more to it than kissing, Sammy,” Dean says, amused.

“I know that,” and Dean can hear the eye roll in his voice even if it’s too dark for him to see it. “But it usually starts with kissing, right? And I can’t even get there with a girl.”

Dean has wondered before if Sam has kissed a girl yet, thought maybe he had and just hadn’t shared it with him yet, but it sounds like that’s another teenage milestone yet to be reached due to their transient lifestyle.

“Sometimes there’s no kissing. I’ve been with chicks that didn’t want it or whatever, or that just wanted to go down on me and be done, so it doesn’t always start with kissing.”

“One time this woman just pushed me down on the bed, took off her skirt, and sat on my face and rode me until she came, then she got dressed and asked me to leave. So yeah. No kissing on that one, so you never know…”

He trails off, wondering why he’s even saying these things. He wouldn’t be saying this to Sam if he was sober, shouldn’t be saying them now, but he’s eighteen and drunk and in bed with his little brother and some part of him wants Sam to be impressed with his experience and to think about Dean with women.

He hears Sam swallow, throat clicking. Sam shifts on the bed, adjusting his legs and tucking the blanket around himself, and ends up lying closer to Dean. His breaths seem heavier.

“Did you… like that?” Sam is whispering now.

He nods. “Yeah, Sammy, I really liked that.” When did his voice get so rough? “She had the sexiest bush and she smelled so good, and she was dripping down my chin the whole time. By the end I was so hard I’d leaked through my jeans, and after she kicked me out I went out to the car to jerk off and came in my pants like a fucking kid before I could even get my dick out. I could still smell her all over my face and it drove me nuts.” Dean loves that story, calls that one up often when he’s getting off, and he’s so turned on getting to tell it to Sam now. What he doesn’t tell Sam is that half of the time when he replays that memory, he replaces the woman with Sammy, thinks about Sam stripping his little briefs off and climbing on the bed and sitting his sweet pink ass right on his big brother’s mouth where it belongs. He knows Sam would smell incredible there, taste even better, and he’d lose his goddamn mind if he ever got to try the real thing. The thought always makes him come so hard.

Sam is definitely fidgeting more across from him and Dean can guess why, his heart rate picking up and his face getting hot, knowing his little brother is getting hard in bed with him. This close he can really smell Sam, sweet and earthy, laundry detergent and boysmell.

Dean is so turned on and drunk and stupidly in love with him, and he realizes how close they are on the bed now, and he wants so badly to reach out and touch, but instead he says, “Sammy? Are you okay? Do you need to…”

He starts again, voice pitched low, there’s no going back now: “Do you need me to pretend to be asleep again?” Sam gasps, starts to sputter out embarrassed excuses, but Dean just reaches out to him to comfort him.

“It’s okay dude, it’s no big deal.”

Sam is mortified, hides his face into the pillow, and Dean reaches out to comfort him, gripping his arm and stroking from his shoulder up to the back of his neck soothingly. His hand settles at the back of Sam’s skull, fingers digging in his shaggy hair, scratching familiarly as he pulls him into his chest.

“Shh, it’s fine, Sam, really,” but Sam doesn’t seem fine at all. He sounds like he’s about to cry, breaths coming fast and shuddery.

“Hey, here, let me,” Dean gropes around under the covers and finds Sam’s hand where it’s gripping the sheets and slowly starts to guide it down the bed, down past his sleep t-shirt, down between his own legs where he’s hard in his underwear. He squeezes Sam’s hand over his cock, and Dean’s hand is so much bigger that he can feel the shape of his dick around the edges of the smaller hand. He tries to work up a rhythm with Sam’s hand to get him started since he’s still frozen, telling him it’s okay, it’s no big deal, you just need to get off, until finally Sam’s hand starts moving on its own. Dean reluctantly pulls his hand away then, already missing the warmth of his brother’s stiff cock under his palm. Sam has his face tucked into Dean’s neck, mouth open on his collarbone as he rubs himself through his shorts.

“That’s it Sammy, just like that,” he coaxes, so turned on he feels like he’s suffocating under the blanket. He wants to remember this for the rest of his life, every detail: the sound of Sam's hand shuffling against the threadbare blanket, the tickle of his hair against his chin, the incredible smell of his arousal permeating the bed, driving Dean wild. He can feel his own erection pushing out against his thin boxers and wishes he could grind up against something for relief.

He tilts his head down to breathe in the sexy, homey smell of Sam’s hair when he hears him whine, “Dean, I need–it’s not enough–” and Dean understands.

“It’s okay, come here,” he says as he dislodges his hand from Sam’s hair to gently work his briefs down his skinny hips. He feels the resistance as they catch on his erection and wishes he could see, but this is still so much more than he thought he’d ever get, so he’s not going to push his luck.

Dean doesn’t need to guide Sam’s hand this time, Dean feels it as Sam immediately starts up a steady rhythm on his cock.

“That what you need?” he says and Sam groans, nodding against him. He’s still got his face buried into Dean and he can feel everything, his breaths puffing against his chest, his open mouth on his collarbone, tongue occasionally darting out to wet his lips, and the regular bumping of his arms against him as he gets himself off. His smell is everywhere now, heat and sex and Sam permeating his senses, driving him insane. Even in the moment, Dean knows he’s going to be thinking of this night for a long, long time.

Sam starts to speed up, and Dean can recognize the signs from the times he’s spied on Sam masturbating enough to know he’s getting close. He pets his back and urges him on. “Dean, Dean, I’m going to–”

“I know Sammy, it’s okay, go ahead,” as he presses his lips to the top of his head, and Sam’s body tenses as he starts to come. Dean feels several hot spurts of come hit his shirt and he shudders, mouth watering.

Sam's breathing starts to calm as he catches his breath, but Dean is desperate to touch himself and he can't do it in front of Sam. He can't let Sam know just how much he enjoyed that. He's still got Sam's come on his shirt so he tells Sam he'll be right back, he's just going to clean up, and heads to the bathroom.

Once the door is safely shut behind him, he steps forward to brace himself against the cracked porcelain of the sink and quickly shoves his boxers down and takes himself out, starting to pump, fingers tight just below his head.

Looking down he spies the damp spot on his T-shirt from where Sam came on him, and his pulse ticks up. He lifts the cotton up, bringing the wet stain close to his nose, inhaling deeply. His cock pulses and he lets out a soft groan before he can stop himself. The smell is everything: salty, bitter, slightly musky. Not too dissimilar from his own but softer somehow, sweeter. It's thinner than his own too, leaving more of a viscous wetness than thick globs, due to Sam's age, he guesses. He has to get a taste. He shoves the shirt into his mouth and lathes his tongue against the wet spot, biting down on the cotton to muffle the sounds as he comes into the bathroom sink.

The pleasant haze of his orgasm is muddied by a wave of emotion crashing down on him, alcohol mixing with shame in his stomach and sickening him. He'd just nearly crossed a line, a line he'd been trying to stay far away from for years, and it had been so easy.

When he gets back to bed, Sam is already fast asleep, one leg curled up as he lay on his side facing away from the bathroom. Dean slides back into bed on his side and sleeps as far away from his brother as possible, protective instincts kicking in much too late.

#weecest #wincest #samdean #a scene from something i'm writing that is really getting away from me

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webslingingslasher · 11 months ago

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is trouble ever frat!peter’s lock screen? Either before or after the whole situationship thing or secretly during both eras? If so, what picture?

yes! relationship!peter does it proudly, situationship!peter is a bit more stealth. iphones have a wallpaper feature where if you hold the screen down you can swap between photos and i imagine that’s how it is.

peter went home for a week and really missed you and went through his photos and he saw that picture he snapped of you at a party. the background is blurred, proof that the liquor was flowing heavily. you’ve got a smile that shows off almost every tooth and a vice grip on a liter of rum. he doesn’t know why, but he made it his wallpaper for the week and would pick up his phone every five minutes just to look at it.

relationship!peter has a picture of the both of you. something he looks at and is reminded of what he has and how much he truly loves you. it was from a double date night you both had a few months into being official, your friend pressured peter for the photo, he rolled his eyes and gave in. he’s glad he did. it’s his favorite.

you’re wrapped around him in a side hug, peters got a grip on your shoulder. he’s laughing at something your friends date said, he’s wearing the grin you tell him you love. but the reason he has such adornment for the photo is because of the way you’re looking at him.

your eyes are bright and shining, your smile matches his, not because you found anything funny, but because peter’s joy was contagious for you. each time he looks at it he feels warmth radiate, a visual reminder of how much you love him.

—

(you know i had to add a bonus of trouble finding peter’s wallpaper!! -situationship!peter obv)

‘just sit here and look pretty, i’ll be thirty minutes tops.’

peter had pulled you away from date night with the promise of stopping at his chapter meeting. he had negotiated the first hour, trent, the chapter president, wouldn’t break on the last thirty minutes and demanded peter be there. or else.

you wouldn’t mind but peter didn’t tell you until last minute and now you’re sitting down at an empty table at the library while they fill up a rented room across from you.

‘it’ll be longer than that and you know it.’

‘you’ll be fine. give me a kiss.’ you meet him with one, you grumble down at your phone. ‘my phones about to die, what am i supposed to do?’

peter feigns shock, ‘oh no!’ he looks around, ‘i hope you’ll find something to do in this big, empty library. it might be hard.’

your eyes narrow, you hate his sarcasm. ‘the library doesn’t have instagram reels, peter. how am i supposed to entertain myself while you’re talking numbers and business?’

there’s a miniature battle of silence, you win when peter groans and hands over his phone from his back pocket. ‘here. use mine.’ you reach forward, peter’s giving you unbridled access to his phone, you’d be dumb to say no.

‘nuh uh. you promise me right now you won’t fuck up my algorithm, i spent months perfecting it.’ you make grabby hands, ‘promise.’

the sleek, black screen is in your hold in seconds. your thumbs fly over the screen, you’re in and on instagram in a second. peter looks back once more, ‘thirty minutes.’ you nod, the first video already playing, you wish you could send it to peter. you send it to yourself to send back to him when you’re at a full charge.

ten minutes and you need a refresher, wandering around towards the bathroom you grab a water from a vending machine. cracking the cap, your left thumb pressed into peter’s home screen and his wallpaper separated, another photo right next to it.

you can recognize the edge, you swipe and feel your heart melt into a puddle. it’s you and only you. smiling and posing just for peter. he snapped the pic and saved it, he even went one step further and put it as his screensaver. a backup one, but something tells you he doesn’t want you knowing it exists.

you can keep a secret.

you can’t stop smiling at his phone and the short videos playing aren’t even that funny. you perk at a kiss on the top of your head. ‘told you i’d only be thirty minutes… what? why are you looking at me like that?’

‘no reason. it was very nice of you to offer me your phone, thank you.’

another kiss, you can’t wait til you get him alone. you might be the only one in on the secret, but he was going to be treated very nicely for it.

‘no problem, trouble. what’s mine is yours.’ your heart thumps louder. ‘and now,’ peter gently pulls you up with him, you’re along for the ride.

‘i owe you dessert, let’s go.’ you don’t walk with him, you stay until his hand tugs yours, peter looks back at you confused. ‘i wanna have dessert at yours.’

peter pouts, ‘tarrent polished off the ice cream.’

‘i know.’ peter knows that tone, now he’s standing straighter and acting casually. ‘oh? alright, yeah, let’s go home.’

#frat!peter drabbles

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bestglessegypt44444 · 2 years ago

Text

كبائن شاور زجاج سيكوريت

كبائن شاور مودرن+جدد ديكورمنزلك:01144238864

شهدنا في الآونة الأخيرة تطور مراحل الديكور بشكل كبير بين الماضي والحاضر، تعمل بست جلاس علي تقديم افخم كبائن شاور

لتجديد ديكورات منزلك 01144238864|| بست جلاس في القاهرة .

إذ أصبح معظم الأشخاص يلجؤون إلى اعتماد الديكورات البسيطة بدلاً من الديكورات التي تحتوي على الكثير من التفاصيل،

والتي من شأنها إضفاء طابع أنيق وعملي على التصاميم الداخلية للمنزل، ولعل أكثر الأفكار الرائجة في ديكورات المنزل

حالياً استخدام الزجاج بأنواعه المختلفة، حيث يعتبر الزجاج مادة قوية وصلبة على عكس ما يعتقده الكثيرون،

كما وتتنوع استخداماته بين المرايا والطاولات والواجهات الخارجية والأسوار، هذا ولا تقتصر استخدامات الزجاج على ذلك فحسب،

بل تتنوع أيضاً لتشمل الرفوف والستائر والاكسسوارات أيضاً، لذلك سنخصص هذا المقال لنعرض لكم مجموعة من الأفكار المبتكرة

لاستخدام زجاج ديكور في المنزل.

زجاج سيكوريت,ابواب زجاج سيكوريت,الزجاج السيكوريت,اسعار زجاج سيكوريت 10 مم,سيكوريت,سعر متر الزجاج السيكوريت,

زجاج,قوة زجاج سيكوريت,سعر زجاج سيكوريت,باب زجاج سيكوريت,تكسير زجاج سيكوريت,تفجير زجاج سيكوريت,واجهات زجاج

سيكوريت,زجاج سيكوريت مستعمل,زجاج سيكوريت استعمال,سعر متر زجاج سيكوريت في مصر,اسعار الزجاج السيكوريت,

تفجير الزجاج السيكوريت,زجاج سكريت,تنظيف زجاج المرايا,تنظيف الزجاج السيكوريت,مرايا,الزجاج,سعر متر الزجاج المرايا,زجاج ايكيا

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 years ago

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"I have a question."

"Well, that's dangerous," Levi quips.

"Hardee har. You're so funny. You wanna hear it or not?"

He topples back onto the couch, lifting your legs up so you can place them over his knees as you lay there. The first press of his fingers on your ankle almost makes you moan, it feels so good. "Lay it on me," he says, taking the remote from the table on the side. You wiggle your toes a little, and he snorts, squeezing them each individually.

"Right. So I saw it online. If you could only have three things for the rest of your life, what three things would you choose?"

Levi flips through the channels on the screen with obvious disinterest, until it gets to some football game, which is when he sets the remote down and focuses both hands on massaging your feet. "Is this an abandoned-on-an-island situation?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It didn't say." You double check your phone for good measure, but no scenario is mentioned.

"Obviously if it's a survival scenario one thing I want with me is a guide on how to do anything I need to survive."

"It's not a survival scenario," you clarify, rolling your eyes.

"I thought it didn't say," Levi mocks.

He's the most irritating person you've ever met. And vice versa, probably. You don't have the heart to be snappy when he's giving your soles this kind of heavenly treatment. You're so close to having a foot fetish because of Levi. Or just an act of service kink in general. He does the dishes? Ooh, baby, that's so hot, take off your pants right now.

"Okay, you're in an empty room and you're never ever getting out. You already have access to food and water and stuff. Now what?"

"Phone," Levi answers, without any hesitation.

Scathingly, you accuse, "Millennial." He only smirks, eyes still on the TV screen. You kick your feet impatiently. "Next?"

This time, he does think for a few seconds before answering, but eventually settles on: "Tea."

"I already said you have—"

"Food and water and 'stuff' doesn't include tea. And I mean good tea. None of that poorly brewed shit if I'm in a padded room Yellow Wallpapering my ass away." You open your mouth. "Yes, it's an allegory for postpartum and the patriarchy. It's just the first thing I thought of." You close your mouth, miming a zipping motion that he catches out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm surprised your survival ass didn't go all Lord of the Rings," you tease, "you wouldn't want a conch shell?"

He turns to face you finally, an amused grin on his face.

You curse out loud.

"Goddammit. You know I meant Lord of the Flies. Intellectual." The word's spit out like an insult as Levi barks out a laugh, raising your ankle a little to kiss your heel. Foot fetish. So close.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes after that, him watching the game and you scrolling aimlessly through different social media apps, until you realize that the full question is still unanswered.

"Hey." You poke his stomach with your foot. "What's your third thing? Don't be morbid and say a gun or something."

Levi actually rolls his eyes. "I'm not Eren. It would be a music player. With unlimited music."

For the first time, you pout at his response. Your boyfriend notices everything, but he must not notice this, because he doesn't say anything, doesn't rescind his answer or offer a better one.

In a slightly more grumpy manner, you go back to scrolling on your phone, determined to find some other question to bother him with, because it's a weekend and you reserve the right to your bother-the-boyfriend time. And you reserve the right to hear some kind of, any kind of, praise, or even a minor acknowledgement.

"You do realize," Levi cuts in, interrupting both your search and your thoughts, "that I don't see you as a thing."

There's a little flutter in your chest, because he's still watching TV, and that, for some reason, makes you all the more flustered. As though he could sense your mood without so much as sparing a glance in your direction.

"But if it was people?" he continues, and you sit up, eyes shining. "You'd be the start of the list, the end of the list, you'd be the list, brat. Does that answer your question?"

Your arms wrap around his waist, a weird twist of emotions making your stomach hurt. From the newfound tenderness in your feet to the warmth spreading across your cheeks, every mental and physical part of you is really happy you asked.

"Same." His heartbeat can be heard completely steadily in this position. "In case you didn't already know."

Levi sighs, hand coming up to rest on top of your head. "I did."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #college boyfriend levi #COLLEGE BF LEVI RETURNS

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stationintern · 11 months ago

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Hello all!

This month was, truly, a beautiful month for me reading-wise. The birds were chirping, I found smut that made me sweat, and I revisited some old favorites. Let's jump right in. I am so excited to share these with you. (Hence why I am posting this a day early.)

Strap in!

Dwelling On Dreams by @the-sinking-ship for H/D Big Bang 2021, 135k, E

I reread this fic this month, and it was just as delicious as I remembered. There are aspects of this fic that felt burned into my memory, so it came as a shock to me when I realized that the last time I'd read this fic was over a year ago. Everything about it feels so vivid. Harry's magic, his raw sexual energy. Draco's ability to make me scream at my phone and throw a mini temper-tantrum. I love flashbacks, and this fic has them in abundance. If you're looking for a thick read with complex characters and an interesting case to solve, look no further!

Hear Me Out by @rainstormradish for @dronarryfest 2024, 5.2k, E

I am pleased to announce that I have officially bought my ticket and jumped on the Dronarry train. You've all convinced me. This fic, in particular, is what really got the ball rolling. This was... immaculate. When I said I found smut that made me sweat, I MEANT IT. I had to, like, physically reconnect with my limbs after I read this. A bit of fake dating to start you off, and it only gets better from there.

The Way You Say My Name by InnerLilith 5.3k, E

Ya'll ever just bark at your phone? Sometimes, a girl just wants to read about Harry Potter going absolutely bonkers over Draco Malfoy calling him sweet little names. Very hot, very important to me.

Please hold. Your call is very important to us./Bloodlust and Bureaucracy by @goblinmatriarch 5k, T/8.5k E

DOUBLE FEATURE! I love the smell of wizarding bureaucracy in the morning. What a little world you have built! Authors who can create a new little piece of the wizarding world to explore mean the world to me. Very interesting in regards to how the medical system in the wizarding world relates to its real-world counterparts. Also, some biting action. Very smart, very hot.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites 11k, E

Critics are raving. "Literally ripping up the wallpaper in my home," says one reviewer. "Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure," says another. Bureaucracy lovers win forever and ever. Also, Draco gets to wear many suits. Harry Potter the reluctant politician. I couldn't have wished for more.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses 46k, E

BOATS, REPRESSION, MORE BOATS, EDGING (for sports purposes), EVEN MORE REPRESSION, AND WILL YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAY THERE'S MORE BOATS. I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to parallel the epic highs and lows of college rowing with the literal wizarding war. If that isn't talent, I don't know what is babe.

Truth or Dare? by @lettersbyelise 3.4k, E

There is truly nothing more intimate than jerking off your childhood rival while a party goes on around you. THAT, my friends, is the key to post-war, inter-house unity.

Borrowed Time by @the-starryknight for @dronarryfest 2024, 7.6k, E

Oh this was fire. What do you know about body swapping threesomes? Would you like to know more? Yes. Yes, you would.

Alrighty, I think that's all for now, folks. Very thankful to be in a fandom with so so so many talented people. You all blow my mind. Here's to another month of fantastic fiction!

See ya!

XX, Moon

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #moons monthly fic recs

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mugentakeda · 1 year ago

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scoring a job at the tea shop was too easy. but now that he’s staring at bowl of jasmine flowers next to the black blend, it might have been a dumb idea. it’s not busy enough to numb his stupid brain.

the owner, mr. dugu, a short middle aged man with greasy long hair, was all too happy to hire him. we could use a looker like you, it’ll bring all the women in!

lu ten thinks back to zhao and jiro in dismay. he highly doubts his love life will ever heal itself back to normalcy. azula would agree with that.

it’s probably for the best that zhao doesn’t know where i am, he muses, but jiro would probably try and send me money.

now that he thinks about it, mr. dugu kind of reminds him of jiro. just a few decades older, and in green. a slick and stout guy that thinks he’s all that and a bag of fireflakes. so slick, you wouldn’t see the earnest, hard working gentleman hidden beneath at first.

but his dad is in there too. with the crows feet, receding hairline, deep tea scent, big hands. laughter in his eyes, at just about anything.

in the tea shop, however, his dad is everywhere he looks. his dad is the smells, the old tea cup rings stained in the tables, every sun ray shining through the windows, the cheap peeling wallpaper with painted leaves floating in the wind.

is it betrayal, what he’s done? or is he just dying on the hill of what his gut tells him is right?

he’s forcing his heart and his gut to become one, so he can physically stand loving his father, but not liking his father, simultaneously. letting them both exist together, at the same time. it’s not life ruining or earth shattering. it just… is.

lu ten misses the parts of his dad that he enjoyed, with great guilt. the roughhousing, the morning meditation, a warm hand brushing through his feathery hair, carrying him to bed after a long day at the beach, dropping his bags and letting lu ten barrel into his arms at full force after weeks being gone, bickering over the do’s and don’ts of tea. things got spotty and more spaced out once he turned double digits, because at that point lu ten was old enough to go longer without seeing his father. he was a busy guy and lu ten had been okay with that. he’s never been someone that needed constant attention, anyway.

but those parts were only enough to satisfy the young lu ten who didn’t care what his dad was outside of being his dad. then his aunt was married into the family, and lu ten started caring about a whole lot of things.

his aunt and his cousins give him purpose. what would he be, without them? they shape his interests, his entire worldview, his habits, his sense of self. the areas of politics and legislation that he dipped his toes in as a prince were even influenced by them. he tells right from wrong by wondering, if it was your aunt and your cousins, would you be okay with it?

what ursa went through after having azula haunted his dreams. the afterbirth stench, her hyperventilating, hoarse wails. the fire sages and azulon and ozai all muttering to each other, just to add to the chaos. he’d gripped little zuko to his chest in the dark corridor across from her chambers like a vice, biting his lip in terror and cheeks flushing as hot tears rolled down his face. it was the worst thing he’d ever heard in his life, and nobody seemed to care.

then he finds out that his mother went through the same thing with him over morning tea with his grandfather. casually, like he was being informed of the weather.

she believed she had the right to name you toshiro, despite not showing any enthusiasm over you at any other time of day, azulon had grunted. i don’t know why he ever bothered with that commoner wretch. you’d still have a mother today if he hadn’t picked some halfwit dancer with a smart mouth, you know. i even went through the trouble of setting up a whole line of good, wellborn women right before him, and he didn’t entertain a single one! but i suppose it doesn’t matter now, seeing the fine young man you’ve become regardless. i was afraid you’d inherit her crassness, if you’ll forgive me.

so she got sick of the shit and disappeared. to this day, he barely knows what to do with that information.

he hates ozai for doing the same shit to his aunt that his own father did to his mom. forced, unwanted marriage. the pain and misery of childbirth. postpartum. making heirs. he fucking hates that word. heirs.

toshiro. it’s a good name.

he’d leave his dad if he were his mother, too. he did leave his dad.

mr. dugu asked after hiring him if he was a soldier, going by his posture. he’s no earthbender, and the scars are from trial and error lightning bolts. but there are nonbenders in the earth army, and lu ten can put his mouth where the money is when given a staff. so he says yes.

that must be why i like you so much, mr. dugu had sighed. my own boy is a little older than you and lives in ba sing se with his old lady, as a teacher in a little kid’s school. he’s a bender, so he enlisted to help fight- but that stubborn old prince bastard is persistent. you know the ash and blood is filthying their water? his old lady is pregnant, and she has no clean water to drink. it’s unbelievable! but that ashmaker doesn’t realize how steadfast the good people of the earth kingdom are. the spirits will deliver them, and he’ll tuck his tail between his legs and run for the hills.

filthy water also means sick livestock. and sick livestock means sick people when the livestock is eaten. sick people means sick mothers and children, and sick doctors that can’t help sick pregnant mothers give birth. and then ba sing se is cut off from incoming supplies due to his father’s army, so they’re probably rationing the medicine. so sick pregnant mothers giving birth without proper medicine, without proper doctors because they’re also all sick. that leads to dying mothers, dying newborns, or mothers and newborns dying together.

lu ten just isn’t sure his father realizes little stuff like that. or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. and that thought makes him so angry, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

his father had acted like all that was happening in the impenetrable city was something funny in his letters. along with a couple of thinly veiled pleads for lu ten to quit being stubborn and join him already.

narrow, ignorant self-interest does not impress him. its ugly coming from his own father. its even uglier on a man that’s supposed to lead their fucking country one day. lu ten will not be the same. the people he loves most in this world cannot afford for him to be the same.

you have a savvy for diplomacy, zhao had snapped at him. your father could use something like that. what’s keeping you here? don’t you see benefits waiting to be reaped from this? your cousins will still be here when your father succeeds! get over yourself!

“diplomacy,” lu ten sneers out loud. then sighs loudly in frustration when he knocks the cup over with a jerky hand.

one minute ba sing se is being taken by his dad so it can become one with the fire nation. the next minute he’s burning it to the ground. if it’s the fire nation, why in the all fuck is he ruining it? is that not counter-productive? is that not hypocrisy? what diplomacy is there to be had when there’s nothing left of the city?

but then, people on the homeland get arrested for some real petty shit. the colonial towns get paid dust. his dad killed the last dragon, despite a good portion of lu tens childhood folktales composing of dragons. despite agni herself being depicted as a dragon. a million things that he never questioned before that make no sense to him now that he has the freedom and time to truly ponder.

the spirits are not to be trifled with or questioned, my son. the spirits can even judge the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

lu ten isn’t a man who claims to know the spirits ways, nor does he question them. he wasn’t there when they laid foundation to the earth. he doesn’t know who determined its measurements. but he does know that agni wouldn’t deliver a message so stupid and pointless.

he just questions his father, and the authenticity of his pointless quest to flatten a city being spirit-sent.

what do you wanna bet he used the wrong kind of flower for his tea and was just tripping balls?

the more he thinks about it the less grace his train of thought is willing to spare.

he’s so mad that he can’t like his dad. he’s so mad that he exists at the cost of his mother’s everything. he’s so mad that everything his proud, beautiful country stands on and believes in has the strength of a single grain of rice. he can’t bare the thought of just continuing to ignore it to maintain his sanity- he’s never been so glad to be an adult with a brain and not a kid in his own little world- but realizing things is so painful. its only ever painful. he wants to curl up in a ball and rot away. the guilt and anger is mind numbing.

do you think of me with as much frustration as i think of you, dad? do you sit and ruin your own day trying to understand what goes on in my head, or is it just me?

the fumes from the boiling teapot steam his face as he bends over it slowly, trying to curb the acid crawling up his throat like a demon emerging from hell. static curls up and down his arms and brings his hair straight up, the heat bleeding from the tips of his fingers and his palms into the counter is teetering on the edge of unbearable-

“cousin?” a little voice startles him out of his thoughts.

he pauses, and turns his head.

zuko’s standing there in front of mr. dugu, who’s grinning at him cheekily.

zuko is wearing a green apron that drags on the floor. the anger building in his chest melts like chocolate over a fire. the counter is already cooling beneath his steel grip.

“…li,” he greets, weak humor in his voice. “what’s shaking?”

the kid flushes. “i got bored and walked here from mom’s work. and mr. dugu said no loitering in his store. so i’m….. hired.”

“are you a seasonal employee?” lu ten snorts.

“i don’t even know what that means,” zuko replies curtly. he doesn’t realize his sass definitely matches azula’s. “i can bring the tea to the customers.”

“well,” lu ten sighs, “i believe i’ve scalded the hell out of this jasmine by accident. give me a few minutes and i’ll happily provide you with something drinkable.”

“…do better!” his baby cousin orders awkwardly. and so he does, because lu ten is only ever the loyal servant to his baby cousins.

zuko brings the tea to the customers. every time lu ten hears his lispy little voice thank them for their patronage in monotone, he can’t help the way his lips quirk in amusement.

“the girls in the front kept baby-talking me,” his little cousin grumps later that day. “i had to run away before they got the chance to pinch my face.”

mr. dugu laughs, and pats zuko’s little shoulder heartily. lu ten’s heart aches. he can think he hates ignorance until the sheep-cows come home, but there’s nothing crueler than seeing his father in this man’s mannerisms, who’s son could be dead or alive at this very moment, due to his father in question.

“just be glad your sister wasn’t here to see it,” he replies, lest he choke himself up with his own angsting.

zuko huffs and slides off the chair he’d been sitting crosslegged on. “mr. dugu, could i take some cakes from the back to my sister? she’s a sweet tooth.”

“it’ll be coming out of your paycheck,” the man replies teasingly.

zuko frowns like a cranky owlcat. “i don’t know what that word means either.” and with that, he stomps to the back.

“that one’s a trip alright,” mr. dugu laughs. “and you say the younger one is even worse?”

“sure is,” lu ten sighs happily. “they both are the worst. i’m wrapped around their greedy little fingers. they don’t let me hold the house keys, but they’ll let me buy them candy.”

“it’ll be like that forever,” mr. dugu says sagely. “my only son is now a grown man with a wife of his own, and soon, he’ll make me a grandfather. but at the end of the day, he’s always gonna be my precious boy. my baby. and no matter what, i want him to always know he can come back home to me. despite everything. no matter what.”

the man deflates suddenly. “if anything, i might just beg him to come back home to me, once ba sing se chases that scumbag away. i have enough room to house the three of them. my boy lives and breathes to be a teacher in the city, but this old heart can’t take not knowing….”

he trails off, and pushes over a rock with his foot glumly. “they say he has children, too. the fire nation prince attacking the city, i mean.”

lu ten’s blood turns to ice in an instant.

“i doubt one such as he would feel anything if he lost them. if a man can kill another man’s child, i believe he’d might as well kill his very own. and this father would protect every child in this village as his own. you, and your little monster cousins. you know?”

agni is a big blurry dot in his vision, and he swallows hard. “yeah. yeah, i do. this one thanks you for it.”

he holds zuko’s little hand tighter than usual as they go to pick ursa and azula up from the florist.

#this took me ALL DAY to finish. ALL DAY #and idk if its even good or not but we move.#i hope you guys can forgive me sneaking a jiro mention in. i love my ocs #IROHS POV COMING UP NEXT WHOS READY TO RUMBLEEEE #runaway fire fam au #alicias writing stuff

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