#i am so slow on this series and that's my bad

[deergravity]

Seeing as my internal rewards system has moved on to 'trans fiction' from 'queer horror audio drama podcast' I thought I should do a little roundup of everything I listened to the part few months.

A rough ranking:

Malevolent. Just squeaking into the top spot here based on 1) technical prowess (iykyk) 2) compelling characters and story and 3) they are my blorbos your honor!!! Mind boggling that Harlan Guthrie has so much chemistry with himself.

The Silt Verses. Only topped by Malevolent bc season 1 is not as polished, but it really doesn't matter. Top tier characters, amazing worldbuilding, intricate plotting and it had something to SAY about the casual violence of systems, the nature of hope, the complexity of being human in a world that tries to make us inhuman. Also, it doesn't rely on some thin recording contrivance (a framing device that has it's place) and instead truly takes the mantle of audio drama without apology.

The White Vault. On the topic of framing devices, TWV has a very cool take on found footage recordings. A group of [researchers/archeologists] are sent to investigate a remote site in [Svalbard/Patagonia] and the podcast is structured as a documentarian presenting the notes, recordings and diary entries in a reconstructed timeline. My favorite element is that many of the characters don't make their notes in English, so the segments will often open with the VA speaking German, Spanish, Mandarin, Icelandic, Russian, etc etc before fading into the translation. There are miniseries between the seasons available on their patreon and they were so worth the $10 I paid to access them for a month. Reveals are slow, but worthwhile, and the mythology built for the show is highly original and intriguing.

Deviser. A one season contained story from Harlan Guthrie of Malevolent. Scifi, psychological, lots of wet awful body horror. If you're a fan of Harlan wimpering into a mic, you'll love this one.

WOE.BEGONE. Long, ongoing, and so so so far from the original premise it's hilarious, I'm ranking this higher than it maybe deserves for two factors 1) the creator and the VAs are clearly having a blast and 2) it's riding the line of taking itself serious despite a premise that invites irony poisoning without becoming too wrapped up in itself. It's fun, I think, that keeps w.bg strong.

The Magnus Archives. Should this be one up? Probably. But everyone bloody well knows tma by this point, it's good, great even! Beyoncé of horror podcasts.

I Am In Eskew. Only knocked down due to the actually godawful sound quality. Truly unsettling stories though (the one with the building architect haunts me) and a surprisingly realistic conclusion. You can see the bones of The Silt Verses here, from the same creative team.

The Magnus Protocol. Everything above this is there due to originality. As a sequel series, TMAGP will always suffer in that measure. However, I like our new cast and I do love an alternate reality. Curious to see where season 2 takes us. I'd like to kill Mr Bonzo in a fire.

The Inexplicables. Another one season story, this time from Rusty Quill, with really fun, flawed characters and no recording framing device!

Wolf 359. Storywise, great! Characters, excellent! Kicking it way to the bottom bc they just would NOT STOP referencing H***y P****r. Yes, Doug's characterization hangs on excessive reference humor, but that was one well I wish they'd left alone.

Red Valley. Knocked for HP references too (come ON british podcasters, do better) but more importantly for veering WAY WAY WAY WAY WAY too close to real life in season 3 onward. I was here for a horror sci fi story about cryogenics, not to listen to my worst climate disaster fears brought to life via hearing rich old sods try to buy their way out of consequences while the world burns and eco terrorism escalates. Too real. Not bad storytelling, just very much not fulfilling my escapism needs.

It's kinda crazy to me that anytime I mention this genre to normies in my life they say, "oh, like true crime podcasts?" And then I die inside. No dude, like radio drama. Like War of the Worlds.

Anyway, I'm off to get even less relatable by reading a zillion niche trans novels (hello Welcome to Dorley Hall, aka, what if there really was a 'trans cult' force femming dudes to undermine their masculinity? It's amazing how much yarn we can make by subverting the cis gaze.)

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Blind Luck

cw: corrupt institution, alcohol

previous // Wildefire Masterlist // Bas Chapter // next

•°•°•

Hanging out at the coffee shop, hoping she just so happened to see someone who looked like they quite literally knew everything, was probably the dumbest plan Sarah had ever decided to stick to.

But what other option did she have? Even Hugo hadn't been able to dig up more info, and she didn't have another hopeful lead. So she'd printed out the forum post Hugo had come across, murder request and all, ordered a coffee, and hunched in a corner, ears sharpened.

It was her fourth morning on this wild goose chase. If you could even call it a chase. Wild goose stakeout?

The first day she'd wasted nearly six hours listening to customers order their lattes. After that, she decided to limit herself to an hour a day, at random times. There was no indication how often the enigma known as Big Brother visited this shop, or when, so it really was just left up to blind luck.

But sometimes, blind luck was all you needed.

Today's random time was five in the morning, right when the place opened, and even a double shot of espresso couldn't fix how badly Sarah wished she'd stayed in bed.

It's important, she reminded herself. It's our best chance.

She could take a nap later. 

She was zoning out, doodling on a napkin and listening to the background noise when she heard it.

“Black coffee for Bas?”

Bas. Sarah sat up straight, a sudden and unwelcome flush of anxiety coursing through her.

Fuck. This was it. She looked up just in time to see a man turn away from the counter, coffee in hand. He was a lanky guy, maybe in his late thirties, with flecks of gray in his brown hair and reading glasses clipped into his practical button-up shirt.

He definitely didn't look like a Neath criminal, much less the kind of guy who'd have a hit out on him. He looked like a college professor for something nerdy and slightly boring, like Greek literature or the history of pottery.

But if this was her chance, she wasn't gonna let it slip away.

She got to her feet, intending to… she didn't know, ask him for the time or something? Find some discreet way to get his attention. But when she glanced up, he was already staring at her.

Sarah stared back, unsure exactly what the next step was, and Bas’s face took on a resigned look. He inclined his head slightly, a follow me, and proceeded out the door.

Sarah supposed she should be glad he wasn't running for the hills, and walked after the man. Bas didn't slow down, or even look at her, as she caught up to him on the street.

“I'm telling you this as a courtesy and to stop you from pursuing me further,” he said as soon as they were level, with a tone like she'd been stalking him for months. “Go away. There's nothing I can do for you.”

Just like that? Okay, fair. Guy probably got approached by a dozen hopefuls a day who could actually pay for his services. Must be nice, being able to run a background check just by glancing at someone.

“You know I know who you are,” she said, “so you must know—”

“You're here to warn me about something, yes. I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid it's not enough to bribe me.”

Sarah sighed. “Call it a favor then. You know why I'm here, you know how I found you.” She grabbed Hugo’s sheet, folded neatly. “Here's the webpage. I'm sure you can find out who's after you from it.”

Bas raised an eyebrow, taking the paper from her. “Very courteous of you.”

“Wish I could say I didn't have any ulterior motives…” She let herself trail off as he tucked the page into his pocket.

“But I already know you do.” His mouth tightened at the corners, eyes clouding for a moment. “You realize I've already seen your predicament. I already know what you want. And I've already made up my mind.” Bas made an abrupt turn at a bus stop, planting himself on the bench. Sarah took a seat beside him.

“Maybe, but you don't know exactly what I'd tell you if you give me a chance.”

He raised an eyebrow, drawing a brick of a cell phone out of his pocket and checking the time. Honestly, Sarah was surprised he didn't have an old-timey pocketwatch for that.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Good enough.

“I know you like to keep to the shadows,” she began. “And I don't blame you. I'm not going to ask for much.”

“You want to go against the hero corporations,” Bas replied wearily, like he'd already watched this conversation happen. Maybe he had. “Any way you try to spin it, I'd still call it much.”

Sarah tried not to allow any frustration to rise inside her. She got it, she did. If she didn't have any family or friends—if she’d been a secret kept from corp, allowed to live a normal life—she wouldn't want to risk losing it either. That didn't mean she was giving up on convincing Bas.

“I won't ask you to target Corp then, just one guy.”

“Uriah Fox.”

“Yes.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible.”

Sarah bit down on the inside of her cheek. The guy was basically omniscient. It was definitely fucking possible, he was just being a coward. “Why not?”

“For my own safety,” Bas replied in a measured tone. “There are empowered capable of detecting the use of a power like mine. Empowered able to trace psychic signals and mental imprints. Even I can't say who all is under Corporate employ. It's not a risk I'm willing to take.”

“What if I got that information for you?” Sarah said, deciding to match his posture, staring straight ahead as if each of them were making conversation with the sidewalk in front of them. “I worked for Fox.”

“I'm aware.”

Right.

“I don't touch Corp officials. It's one of my rules. They do their business and I do mine.”

Oh, he was rigid, wasn't he? Like concrete set long ago, satisfied in his own safety. Bas checked the time again.

“The bus will be here soon. You should get going. I truly wish you luck, but you understand I can't—”

Luck.

“That's what it is,” Sarah said.

“Pardon?”

“I think you're lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Somehow, you've been able to hide yourself all these years. You avoided Corp. Avoided the people who would imprison and exploit you.” She swallowed. “You're lucky enough to 'do your business' and ignore the Corporate world. One of a few who've gone unscathed.”

Bas’s brow furrowed. “It isn't luck that granted me my freedoms. It's precaution. I—”

“No.” Sarah was standing now, thoughts a little too fast, almost making her stumble over her words. “No, it's not that. I’m lucky too, in a way. Society doesn't see my powers as dangerous. As far as Corp is concerned, I'm just a tool, not a threat. I… I'm someone who can blend in, like you. Someone who was never flashy enough to grab attention, to have people pointing me out on the street.”

Bas looked like he had something to say, but she didn't give him a chance to speak.

“But so many people can't say that. It's not about your precautions, it's about what you're born with. You have a power that makes you a target, but it also gives you the ability to protect yourself. And at some point, you were lucky enough to have someone hide you, lie for you, shield you from the Corp world.”

Bas’s expression twitched, eyes flickering downwards. “The city is full of unlucky souls,” he said, quieter now but still insistent. “I see them every time I look up. But I am aware of my own limits. I know there's nothing I can do.”

This time, Sarah couldn't keep the shocked look off her face. “Nothing you can do? You have more power than any single person in this city to stand against Corp. You can get information—”

Bas’s gaze snapped back up to hers. “Do you believe there's one special file that will solve all your problems?”

“I know it's not that easy, but—”

“And what happens if they find out who leaked their big secrets? If they track me down?”

His heartbeat was picking up, whatever fear or anger or sheer indignation spurred it on echoing in her head. She wanted to call him paranoid. What are the odds? But if there was even the smallest chance he was right, she really was asking a lot. Stranger for stranger, offering nothing but a good turn and a moral quandary.

“We'll protect you,” she said, and Bas laughed dryly.

“If they find me, there's nothing in the world that can protect me.”

Whether the threat was real or not, his concern for it was. Would she be willing to risk herself in his place? She wanted to have her own dry laugh at the thought. Hadn’t she already?

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, letting her posture soften. “I'm sorry I'm asking so much, but… You have the power to change the world, and you're using it to hide in the dark and make a few bucks.” She crossed her arms, slouching against the post that announced the bus schedule. “How many people could you save?”

“I don't interfere—”

“I interfere. Interference needs to happen, or this is never going to end. Please.”

Bas glanced away, silent for a moment. Both of them silent. He did care, she could see that he cared, but was it enough?

This city is full of unlucky souls. I see them every time I look up.

“You could've had a normal life, you know,” Bas said. “Your contract with Corp wasn't a permanent one. It would've wrapped up this year.”

Sarah grit her teeth. “I’m not here for me. This is for everyone who never had a choice. This is for Rosie. It's for Akeela. For Cinder.”

His brow furrowed as she said their names, and Sarah hoped to God he was seeing them. Seeing that Akeela didn't have a childhood, seeing every time Rosie had to die for a mission, seeing everything Cinder had suffered.

“Please,” she said again, after a moment. “I don't need you to interfere, I just need you to see. I need a place to start. I want to protect them, to save everyone.”

Bas’s eyes seemed to clear. “And here I thought optimism was dead,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I won't promise you anything. But I'll consider what you said.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, feeling something inside her untwist.  “Seriously, it means a lot. And if you decide to help—”

“I know where to find you,” Bas said.

Not knowing what else to say, Sarah gave him a small nod and a hopeful smile, then turned to go.

It was a start. A chance. If Big Brother would give them even the smallest nudge, it could make a world of difference. Allies were difficult. Plans were difficult. It was hard to know who to trust. But she had her little family, and they would make it work.

Feeling more than a little socially exhausted, Sarah felt her shoulders sag in relief as the safehouse came into view. Only… something wasn't right.

She frowned, honing her vision on the front porch, jaw clenching as the figure there came into focus.

Cinder?

Sarah broke into a run. What the hell was he doing here? Was he okay? Was he hurt?

The assassin was curled up beside the door, eyes closed, and as she got closer, she saw the bottle in his curled fist. He was drunk then. There were fresh bruises on his face, but it was hard to tell if there were any injuries beyond those.

“Hey,” she whispered, keeping a few steps back. The last thing she wanted was to startle him into burning the house down. “Hey. Cinder?”

He stirred, blinking awake, eyes meeting hers. A hundred questions sat ready in her head, each fighting to be the first out of her mouth. She held them back as Cinder struggled to his feet, maintaining her distance even if instinct drove her to offer a hand.

Not yet. He's still dangerous.

Before she could ask her first question, Cinder spoke, one hand planted on the wall to keep him steady, his eyes deadly serious. Sarah could hear his heart racing.

“I need you to help me kill Uriah Fox.”

•°•°•

@whumpacabra  @enteredin2eternity  @kixngiggles  @whumpsday  @kiichu 

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @shywhumpauthor  @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise ,

@whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump ,  @snakebites-and-ink ,

[334iwatchshit]

you know the fanship is good when you can't tell if the screen shot is edited

[nnnn99999]

Now that I have finished watching bbs I truly understand why some people have not moved on from it even after so long. I will be one of those people too. There is so much to talk about and think about. There are so many things I noticed but also so many I missed. I know I will have so much fun rewatching. I had such a great time watching it. And I am so glad I was able to experience it spoiler free for the first time. Ah I just love it so much.

[verdantglow]

Me, whispering to myself as I stare at my 1/5 written one shot: If we want the reward of writing the final scene we planned this whole fic around, we must suffer the mortifying ordeal of writing the rest of the fic first.

[skydigiblogs]

veeerrry slowly making my way through appmon (just finished ep 6)

i'm enjoying it so far (still) but i also just had a realization that like

part of my hesitancy about watching appmon is that a lot of stills for the fused apps were kind of offputting (3d in 2d animation can be super hit or miss)

like i've seen screenshots of a lot of the higher grade appmon and was like "hm, that's not pleasant to look at"

and now i'm watching it and like "oh, that was definitely designed with movement in mind" because holy shit yeah the stills do not do appmon justice

the use of 3d animation in appmon gives me a feeling that the creators really wanted to include that code overlay effect, but since that's incredibly time-consuming to do in a way that might look good on 2d animated characters, the use of 3d allows them to express that excessively digital vibe (and it looks really good in motion)

as for all the standard grade appmon, i think something similar still holds true in that just looking at their ref book images doesn't do them justice. perorimon is the whole reason i wanted to talk about this (debuted in ep 6) because hooooly shit the ref book image just does not get across how good this goober looks in movement.

in other words, appmon seem designed for animation first and foremost

also while i'm at it i want to say i think it's fun that every appmon really does just have like coax cables in their back for applinks. more digimon shit should like, have weird technological things like that going on.

[thewanderingzeppelin]

I'm alive!!!!

[we-love-morioh-cho]

Do you think Jodio might find Wonder of U horrifying on a deeply personal level? Since it can essentially subvert and manipulate your "mechanism" to benefit it's wielder Jodio might be very bothered in a philosophical way?

Ooooh, I haven't quite reached the Wonder of U arc yet but I do have a basic idea of what it does and this is interesting. Tbh I don't have a good grasp of the Mechanism thing yet outside of it seemingly being like your fate? I'm admittedly waiting for it to be explained more before I speculate on it too much BUT I definitely think it will tie into a lot of Jojolion's themes.

This ask has also made me consider the possibility of the main villain stand tying into the Mechanism. I don't know exactly how that would work BUT if this idea turns out to happen, we might just see Jodio's struggle with this concept. I really hope we see Jodio's philosophy and psychology challenged and explored in The Jojolands, and this would be a great way of doing it.

[bbnibini]

I used up all of my socialisation points with my past reblogs and ask. (My social anxiety spiked fr but I really appreciate the tags and rb even if I feel like I didn't make any sense I'm glad you got something from it lmao) I usually don't really share in-depth opinions about lore unless asked or encouraged. Mostly cause I hate writing. If I'm gonna do any writing, I might as well write a fic. Connecting to that, I'll still keep the beta reader forms open! I have already contacted some people pre-beta.

If you have not been contacted, let me know! I filtered out some potential spam submissions and might have accidentally tagged you as such.

[luvismenu]

their first time fucking —

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ extra ࣪ ִֶָ☾. written, nsfw

series m.list

♡ — permanent taglist: @https-mei @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @wnteraezz @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine @trinityxsope @taetaecatboy @butnotmontana @joyofbebbanburg @elinaki92 @sweetmimosa28

“are you sure about this?”

“yes, like i said, go slo— i told you to go slow jungkook!”

“oh fuck-”

“you ruined it!!!” you exclaim as you watch jungkook lose a game that the two of you have been playing for the last 30 minutes. well, he's the one playing and you're kind of.. helping.

you wanted to play, but he insisted he wanted to play alone because you're a 'nerd' and couldn't play as well as he could—which earned him a smack on the head from you.

“i told you, you have to wait until the monster appears,” you huff, and he slumps back into the couch.

“okay, expert, whatever,” he shrugs.

“yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes.

jungkook relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back as he groans, “where is this mother fu—”

ding!

“i think you got a text,” you say, glancing at his phone on the small table beside the couch.

“oh, you think so?” he mocks, and you glare him.

hoseok invited you for your usual study session. normally, you both would go to the library or the café he likes, which you didn't mind. today, though, he said he wanted to study at his frat house because it would just be the two of you.

and you couldn't miss a chance like that now would you?

but when you arrived, hoseok was nowhere to be found, and it was jungkook who let you in.

what a fun way to find out that all the fuckboys live in the same house.

jungkook told you that the other members were out doing what they usually do—things you'd rather not know about.

and now, you're just waiting for hoseok to come back.

“oh... okay,” jungkook says aloud as he sets his phone aside, turning to you.

“was it him? is he coming?” you ask.

“nah, he's getting wasted with the others, probably won't be back until.. i don't know, early morning i guess?” jungkook replies, “oh and i told him you were here. he said he's sorry that he forgot and told me to tell you to go home safe.”

you sulk at his words.

he notices.

“he... forgot?” you ask, your voice dropping.

“that's what he said. if you don't believe me, you can take my phone and see his texts.”

“no, no, i mean...” you sigh. “uh sorry, i should get going then.”

you stand up, grabbing your bag. but before you can take a step forward, jungkook speaks up.

“we can play another game if you want.”

you look at him. he holds up his controller, placing the second one beside him.

“together.”

“i am tired,” he groans, throwing the controller onto the couch as he walks toward the kitchen and you follow him.

“for a fuckboy, you have less stamina,” you joke.

“i was studying the whole day—”

you raise a brow.

“i know, yeah me, studying?? woah, impossible!!” he mocks himself, then continues more seriously, “trust me, i study.”

he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and closes it. “sometimes.”

you can't help but scoff a laugh.

“you don't have to explain yourself,” you say, crossing your arms as he takes a sip of the beer before responding.

“i know, but it's you i’m talking to, so—”

“what do you mean, me?”

he tilts his head. “aren't we friends?”

“yeah?”

he smiles. “then i gotta prove that i’m not as bad as you think i am.”

“i don't—”

“you do.”

you think for a second and sigh. “i do.”

that makes both of you chuckle.

“i think i should go now, it's getting late,” you tell jungkook, glancing at the clock on the wall. you walk toward the door, and he follows you.

“thank you for the ice cream,” you say, referring to the treat you had a few minutes ago.

��it's okay, it wasn't mine anyway,” he shrugs, and you gasp.

“what the fuck, why did you let me eat it then?”

“relax! it’s hoseok's. he wouldn't mind since he literally ditched you tonight,” he says, then realizes how it sounds as he sees the change in your expression. “i didn't mean—”

“no, it's okay. he did kind of ditch me, but it doesn't really matter. i can meet him some other time.” you smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

you're kinda rethinking about getting fucked by him anyway.

“right...” he trails off.

you both stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between you before he breaks it.

“so, i guess i'll text— mmph.” and you do it again. you cut him off just like when you first met him, but this time, the kiss lasts longer.

“w-wait,” he breathes out as he pulls back, staring at you. “you wanna fuck?”

“well, i don't know—”

“why did you kiss me then?” he asks

you look at him. why did you kiss him?

because hoseok isn't available? no.

because you're desperate? ... you're not sure.

“i don't know…” you finally say.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops.

“i just wanted to,” you add, and he's visibly surprised.

“is that wrong?” you continue, your eyes searching his.

jungkook's gaze softens. “no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “but you don't like fuckboys and also we're friends—”

“yes, but tonight's different.” you say, reaching out to tug him back towards you, “you know, like a one time thing.”

he raises an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “so, you wanna fuck and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened? like we didn't do anything?”

you roll your eyes. “if you keep talking, we really won't do anything.”

“okay then final question, answer this with a yes or no” he says, his tone teasingly demanding, almost childish, and it makes you scoff a laugh.

“what?”

he smirks.

“wanna fuck?”

you smirk back.

“yes.”

───────── the wall ─────────

“o-oh fuck, jungkook, yes!” you moan out, your fingers tangled in his hair. his head is buried between your thighs, which are wrapped tightly around his neck. your hips are lifted, your back pressed against the wall as he stays on his knees.

he's been tongue-fucking you for a few minutes now, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge.

“mm, you taste so sweet.” he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth before releasing it with a pop. “i could eat this pretty cunt all day long.”

without warning, you cum on his mouth, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure course through you.

he swallows it all, his tongue still working on your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and whimper from the overstimulation.

slowly, he stands up as lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he keeps you pressed against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he looks at you as you're gasping for air, that cocky grin forming on his lips.

“you want me forreal.”

“are you kidding me? right now?” you can't believe he's saying that after you just came so hard. but maybe it’s because of the orgasm, because instead of getting annoyed, you find yourself laughing a little.

“you came so much so i—” you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing onto his as you taste yourself, sucking on his tongue to shut him up.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“what's next, darling?”

───────── the floor ─────────

“t-that tickles,” you giggle when you feel jungkook softly rubbing your waist while his tongue laps at your right nipple.

“my tongue?” he asks, his eyes looking up at you as he moves to kiss your left nipple. you're both sprawled on the floor, his hands moving up and down your body as he hovers over you.

“your hands,” you gasp softly, taking in the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

“mmh,” he hums as his hands slide up, grabbing both of your breasts, squeezing them gently. you arch your back slightly when he squeezes them together, and he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at the soft flesh.

“can i suck your dick?” you say quickly, almost before thinking, and it makes jungkook pull back, looking at you in surprise. he clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“you wanna?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“why do you look so surprised? never got your dick sucked before?” you joke, a grin forming on your lips as you see the stunned look on his face.

he rolls his eyes at you, his lips curving into a smirk. it's funny because it's usually you who’s rolling your eyes at him.

“just making sure,”

───────── the couch ─────────

“y-you're doing so good, f-fuck,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you choke and drool on his cock. you're on your knees, gripping his thighs while he sits naked on the couch, his cock in your mouth.

his head falls back as he moans, and he bucks his hips up just slightly, pushing deeper into your throat.

he fucking loves this.

“mmfph-” you let out a muffled sound as your eyes start to water. he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips stretched around his length. reaching out, he wipes away a tear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek, his touch oddly tender given the situation.

“that's it, darling. you're being such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath but enough for you to hear. “sucking my cock and looking at me like that... you look so fucking pretty.”

you pull back just slightly, taking a quick breath before diving right back in. your head bobs up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, taking him as deep as you can. each time you do, he lets out a low groan, his abs tightening.

“oh fuck, i'm close,” he grunts, his grip on your hair loosening and you pull back.

“can i-” he starts to ask, but you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and he curses under his breath.

he strokes himself a few times, his breath hitching, and then he releases, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue. you keep your mouth open, letting him see before swallowing it all, licking him clean until there's nothing left. once you're done, you pull away, giving him a proud smile.

he chuckles, shaking his head slightly, clearly amused by your behavior.

“you're not what i expected,”

───────── bed ─────────

“did you fuck anyone here before?” you ask as you look at jungkook between your legs. your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and your back pressed against the softness of his bed.

“no,” he says simply as he reaches over to grab a condom. “i don't bring girls here.”

“why not?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“because i'm never alone,” he explains, tearing the packet open with ease.

“but we're alone right now,” you point out, watching every one of his movements.

“i was supposed to go out with hoseok and the others, but i was tired, remember? so i stayed in. and honestly, i'm glad i did that.” he rolls the condom onto his length.

you smack his shoulder playfully, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“now, are you really sure about this?” he asks, his hands gently gripping your hips, holding you steady.

“for the tenth time, yes, i am,” you respond, “like i said, it’s a one-time thing,” you remind him.

he gives a small nod, then grabs his cock, rubbing the tip along your wet folds, making you whimper at the feeling.

“just fucking put it in,” you breathe out,

he grins, leaning down just a bit closer. “say please, darling,”

“if you think i’m gonna beg for it, think again,” you say, your eyes narrowing at him.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so bossy,” he mutters, and then, without further delay, he pushes his cock into you.

“f-fuck..” you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him stretching you. the fullness is almost overwhelming, but there's a hint of pleasure there, building slowly.

he pauses for a moment, his gaze searching your face. “you okay, darling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“y-yeah,” you manage to say, breathing heavily. “it feels... bigger than i expected,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly.

his grin widens at that, and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. normally, you'd have some sassy comeback for that look on his face, but right now, it feels too good to say anything at all.

no wonder women love him.

you came once.

“fuck— nngh y-yes!!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming as your body trembles around him.

“oh my go— i am— fuck!” jungkook moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as you ride him, your hips bouncing on his cock.

twice.

“you like that, hm? you like getting your pussy fucked from behind?” his voice is a growl as he grips your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. you’re on all fours, your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. tears well up at the edges of your eyes, the pleasure bordering on too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

make it a third time.

“fuck..”

jungkook groans as he collapses onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes closed. exhaustion drips from his voice as he mumbles, “you’re such a freak.”

you sit beside him, still naked, your fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. “one more round?” you suggest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, right.”

you tilt your head, raising a brow at him, your expression almost challenging.

his eyes widen just a bit. “oh, you’re serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

you nod, shrugging slightly. “how are you not tired?” he breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief.

“i can take some more, i guess,” you say casually, though the glint in your eyes betrays your eagerness.

“i am sorry to disappoint, darling, but i think i am done for tonight.” he lets out a tired sigh, and he sees you pout.

“woah,” he murmurs, watching the way your lips form into a cute little pout. it’s endearing. he’s seen so many sides of you tonight—and now... this.

cute and.. whiny?

“pleaseee, jungkook, one more time!!” you whine, your voice soft and pleading, making his heart skip a beat.

he blinks, like he’s just seeing a new part of you, something he never expected. maybe it’s the endorphins, or just the moment—whatever it is, this side of you is cute, almost innocent in your need.

he likes it.

“how about this,” he says, a grin forming on his lips, “we take a shower, and maybe we can go for another round there, hm?”

“shower sex?” you ask.

he nods.

“no, it’s unsafe,” you respond immediately, shaking your head.

he sighs dramatically, his grin widening. “well then, no more sex for tonight,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe some other night.”

you roll your eyes, huffing. “you wish”

he chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“i do.”

a/n: i hope it's not too confusing 😣

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

[lavenderchqn]

"TO PRACTICE FREEDOM"

synopsis — You're the biggest scaredy cat living amongst the people of Scions of Canopy. You try to get over your fear of heights... by trying out bungee jumping under the watchful eye of your partner. Let's just say... it doesn't go according to plan. pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — near death experience (falling from heights), minor character death, spoiler warnings for kinich's story and voicelines, ajaw is a lore accurate menace notes — I've had an idea for this as soon as we learned that Kinich has interest in extreme sports... reading his story felt weird (the longer I am in genshin fandom, the more stuff I predict right...)

The People of Huitztlan believe in the concept of absolute freedom. That’s why so many youngsters throw themselves into dangerous sports with a lack of safeguard measures. Perhaps having nothing securing a person allows them to experience said freedom. 

To practice death is to practice freedom, after all. 

“We’re here,” Kinich says, looking in your direction. He has held your hand ever since you started your trek up the higher regions of the Coatepec Mountain. “Do you want to take a break?” 

“Y-Yeah… I need to… sit.” You slowly get down with the help of Kinich. Only after he signalises being opposite of you, do your eyes open.

Kinich has taken a sit too, still holding onto your hand. He’s slowly rubbing circles trying to ground you as best as possible. 

Well… here you are — the biggest scaredy cat, who decided to try and work on your fear of heights by trying out bungee jumping. It’s quite ironic really. Not only are you a resident of Scions of the Canopy, which literally is suspended off the cliffs, but also in a relationship with a guy, whose second name could be ‘extreme sports’. 

To say your mind felt pressure to get over it would be quite an understatement. 

“We can still get down. Just say the word.” Kinich says, keeping his eyesight directly on you. Even if you had asked him to help you with your fears, he’d never force you to do so. Sure, it’d be pretty cool to share interests with a partner, but it should never come at the cost of their mental health. 

You shake your head. You have to try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Kinich will do everything in his power to keep you safe. 

“I can do this.” You answer, taking a deep breath. 

“Well then, chop chop SLOWPOKE!” Ajaw zooms right near your face, spooking you to bits. “Stop wasting MY precious time!” 

“Just how loud can you be…” Kinich sighs, getting up to shoo Ajaw away. “Tone it down a notch, will you?” 

The tiny saurian starts arguing with your partner, although you can easily tell it’s one-sided. No matter how much he would try, the most he could bring out of Kinich were insulting comebacks. Ajaw could try and rage the male in multiple ways… and yet, unfortunately for the dragon, your partner was too resilient to die from anger. 

In the meantime of their dissing match, you slowly get up on your legs. Ajaw is right… You don’t want to waste Kinich’s time because you’re scared and worried. He takes notice of your sudden movement, once again getting close to you. 

“Do you want to try now?” He asks, holding his hand out. These are obvious signs, that he will lead you step by step. 

“Yeah… I think I’m ready.” 

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to put the climbing belt on you now.” 

As he says, he does. Kinich does it slowly, explaining his movement every step of the way. You’re aware, he’s doing it to ease your mind… and it’s working well. In the blink of an eye, the sound of a snap-hook getting attached brings you back from a short daydreaming session.

“All done.” He takes another look at you, checking if the equipment is snug against your body while making sure it isn’t digging into your skin. “Can you move for me?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You do a slow spin, followed by kneeling on one foot. “Although I can feel the harness… it’s not uncomfortable.” 

“That's good.”

Once again, it’s another series of your partner explaining the next steps. All you need to do is find a point to connect your line to. He already connected the rope to your belt. The other end is currently sitting tightly in his hand. 

“You’re not going to hold me when I jump?” You ask, growing worried. 

“I know you’d feel more comfortable with me doing that,” Kinich starts answering, his eyes wandering for an anchor. “I don’t want to also fall down the second you jump.” 

He even explains the physics behind it, ending his speech by saying it’s best you move further to look for a good place to jump from. 

You’re walking next to Kinich, admiring the scenery. With the rope in his hands, you’re feeling much more comfortable. Although he’s trying to talk here and there… his eyes are still locked on finding a stable anchor. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, an anchor is nowhere near. Curse you lunatics with no regard for their safety. 

“So many jumping platforms, and yet not a singular anchor?” He questions, closing his eyes. 

All of a sudden your eyes land on a ruffed pheasant that just landed on one of the platforms. You’ve never seen one so close! Without thinking about your safety, you start inching closer towards the bird.

Your steps are slow and cautious. The bird, a magnificent creature with iridescent plumage, seems utterly unaware of your presence. Its feathers shimmer in the sunlight, creating a mesmerising display of greens and oranges. An odd sense of calm wash over you, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your insides.

"Careful," Kinich warns, his voice seeming distant as if muffled by the pounding of your heart.

The platform beneath your feet is uneven, its surface worn smooth by the countless jumps of those, who came before you. With no warning, Ajaw jumps from behind your shoulder, screaming right next to your ear. The bird, startled, flies away. You try to also get away when your foot catches on one of the loose boards. The world tilts violently, and suddenly, you're weightless.

A scream tears from your throat as you plummet downwards, the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out all other sounds. The landscape blurs into a mix of greens and browns, the ground below rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed. For a split second, your mind goes blank — pure terror seizing every thought, every instinct. You’re going to fall to your death. 

Back on the hill, Kinich’s body goes numb for a second. He’s seen this happen once before. He cannot allow it to happen again. You’re not his drunkard gambling mess of a father, and he’s not his seven-year-old self. Kinich will save you, even if it’s the last thing he ever does. 

The blood is pounding in his ears when he shifts all his weight to his legs. Only when he cannot feel any force trying to get him off the cliff, does he start pulling up. With a sharp tug, he jerks you backwards, the rope connected to the harness snapping taut. The force of the pull knocks the air out of your lungs, but it stops your descent abruptly. You swing wildly in the air, the ground still far below, the rope swaying and creaking with the strain of holding your weight.

Above, you can hear Kinich shouting your name, his voice frantic, barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. You cling to the rope, your hands shaking uncontrollably as the realisation of what just happened crashes over you. You almost fell to your death.

"Hold on!" Kinich yells, his voice breaking through the fog of panic in your mind. "I’ve got you, just hold on for me!"

Tears sting your eyes as you try to steady your breathing, every muscle in your body tensed and trembling. The rope holds firm, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Kinich begins to pull you back up. Each inch feels like an eternity, but his strength and determination never waver.

As soon as your body reaches the ledge, Kinich grabs onto you, pulling you up with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you collapse against him, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice unusually tight with emotion. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

You shake your head, unable to speak, still trying to process the fact that you're alive, that you're safe. Kinich's arms tighten around you, his hand cradling the back of your head as if to shield you from any further harm.

"You're okay," he murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "You're okay, and I'm here. I'm right here."

For a long moment, you stay there, clinging to him as the fear slowly ebbs away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of relief. The world around you, once a blur of panic and chaos, begins to settle back into focus. The mountains, the sky, the distant sound of birds—all of it feels surreal as if you’ve been given a second chance to experience it. In your state, you don’t notice the glare Kinich is giving to his companion. 

If looks could kill, Ajaw would be dead. 

After a while of sitting idly, Kinich pulls back slightly, enough to look into your eyes. His face is pale, his expression filled with concern, but there's also a deep, unspoken resolve in his gaze. It’s quite different considering the death stare he was giving the saurian just a second ago. 

"We’re done here," he says gently but firmly. "No more extreme sports for today. We are getting you home.”

You nod, still too shaken to argue. As he helps you back onto solid ground, you realise how much you’ve relied on him, not just for safety, but for the courage to face your fears. And even though the experience was terrifying, there’s a small part of you that’s glad you tried, that you didn’t let fear win entirely. You can clearly say, you did indeed practice freedom today. 

In a moment you’re seated on his back, Kinich deciding you’ve had enough walking for today. He’s in absolute control now — and he’s picking the safest route possible. 

“Oh and Ajaw,” Kinich’s voice is laced with coldness. “Don’t think you’re getting away with the stunt you pulled today.” 

"WHAT?!"

date of posting — september 5th 2024

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.6k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: pls ignore any grammar/spelling errors if so, I wrote some of this on my phone series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

You’re silent for a moment. Firstly, caught off guard by this woman stopping you from your responsibilities, but also the fact that she seems to be regarding you with such disgust. Do you know who I am? That question pisses you off. Should you say yes? Or no? Instead, you straighten up, scrutinizing her right back. Long, pretty brown hair. Hazel eyes. Pink lips. Expensive clothing. Damn it, she’s pretty. 

“Should I?” Perfect balance between the two options. 

Her lip curves up into a bitter smile, pushing past you into the penthouse with no apologies. This causes you to stumble back slightly before finding your stance again, turning around to face the woman as she paces Satoru’s apartment with a wave of confidence. Almost more than the man himself. “Where is he?”

“Satoru is at work,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Himari pauses mid-step, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she turns to face you. Her eyes scan the apartment briefly before landing back on you, sharp and assessing. She raises an eyebrow, her expression one of disbelief, as if your answer isn’t good enough for her. "At work?" she echoes, her tone laced with skepticism. "And you’re here, what, playing house in his absence?"

Your jaw tightens, her words cutting deeper than you’d like to admit. "I’m here because of my son," you snap, arms still crossed as you try to maintain your composure. "I don’t owe you an explanation."

Himari’s lips curl into a now mocking smile as she slowly approaches you, her expensive perfume wafting in the air between you. "You’re right. You don’t owe me an explanation. But you do owe it to yourself to figure out where you stand in all of this. Because trust me," her voice lowers, dripping with condescension, "whatever this is? It’s temporary."

You feel your anger rising, but you swallow it down, unwilling to let her see that she’s getting under your skin. "I think you’re confused," you say, keeping your voice steady despite the fire in your chest. "This isn’t about me or you—it’s about Koji spending time with his father. And I’m not going to stand here and let you try to turn it into something else."

Her expression hardens, and for a brief moment, the mask of superiority slips, revealing a flash of something you can’t quite place. Jealousy? Fear? "Koji," she repeats, almost spitting the name out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. "Is that the name of the little brat that’s ruining everything?"

“Watch your mouth,” a motherly wave of protection instantly befalls you at her choice of words. 

“Why should I? That kid is nothing but a—”

Your hands tighten into fists at your sides, and your voice hardens. “I said, watch your mouth. I won’t let you badmouth my child.”

Himari’s eyes widen slightly, the mask of composure slipping even further as she takes in your reaction. For a moment, she looks almost startled, as if she hadn’t expected you to bite back. But just as quickly, she recovers, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a sneer. “Touchy, aren’t we?” she says, her tone sharp. “I’m just calling it how I see it. Satoru and I had plans, a life we were building, and then you come waltzing back in, dragging some kid into the picture. Don’t act like this hasn’t complicated everything.”

Your jaw clenches, and it takes everything in you to keep from shouting. “Koji is Satoru’s son,” you say firmly, your voice low but cutting. “If you think for one second that I’m going to apologize for that, you’re delusional. Whatever plans you think you had with him, they don’t erase his responsibilities as a father.”

Himari scoffs, her eyes narrowing. “Responsibilities? Don’t make me laugh. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Using that child as leverage to worm your way back into his life? Everyone can see through this little game of yours. You seem like a poverty-stricken nobody who probably has nothing better to do with her life than go back to a man you never had just for that security. Let me guess, you’re blackmailing him that if he doesn’t help you out, he’ll never see his son again. People like you are pathetic and you leech off the important people like us—like my boyfriend. ”

Your blood runs cold at her words, and your chest tightens with a mixture of fury and disbelief. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, the sheer audacity of her accusations stealing the breath from your lungs. But then the weight of her words sinks in, and a protective fire ignites inside you. You take a step closer to her, your eyes locked onto hers with unwavering intensity. “Say whatever you want about me,” you begin, your voice low and steady, though it trembles slightly with suppressed anger. “Insult me, make your assumptions, spin whatever narrative helps you sleep at night—but leave my son out of it.”

Himari raises an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance, but you see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Oh,” she says, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did,” you snap, your voice rising. “You don’t know a damn thing about me or my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve sacrificed, or what I’d do to protect my child. Koji has nothing to do with whatever petty insecurities you have, so don’t you dare use him as a weapon to take cheap shots at me.”

Himari’s smirk falters, and she takes a slight step back, though she tries to mask it with a scoff. “Oh, please. Spare me the sob story. You can play the victim all you want, but it’s obvious what this is. You’re desperate, and you’re using that boy to sink your claws back into Satoru. You have no idea how much this ruins everything.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you say, your voice softer now, but no less cutting. “This isn’t about Satoru. It’s not about you, either. It’s about giving Koji what he deserves—a chance to know his father, to have someone who loves him unconditionally. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong in his life.”

Himari glares at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the tension in the air crackling like static. Finally, she lets out a derisive huff, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll see,” she says, her voice icy. “We’ll see how long this little charade lasts. But don’t get too comfortable—you won’t win. People like you never do.”

“And people like you…” you start, biting the inside of your cheek; debating whether it’s worth stooping down to this woman’s level. 

Himari freezes in place, her lips curling into a sneer. “And people like me?” she asks, her voice sharp and challenging.

“People like you,” you say, stepping forward again, close enough to reach out and slap her, your voice unwavering, “think the world owes them something just for existing. You walk around acting superior, but all you’re doing is hiding how insecure you really are. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because deep down, you know Satoru isn’t yours to keep.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. She clenches her fists, but her laugh is bitter and hollow. “Insecure? Please. I have everything I need, and I definitely don’t need to play house with some random ex to prove my worth. Satoru’s with me because he wants to be, not because he feels sorry for me like he does for you.”

You take a deep breath, steadying the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. But let me make one thing clear—you don’t get to stand here and insult my son or me. Koji is Satoru’s priority, not some trophy you can use to boost your own ego. So if you’ve got something to say, make sure it’s worth my time.”

Himari’s face twists in frustration, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she straightens her posture, her mask of composure slipping back into place. “You have no idea what you’re saying, do you?” she says coolly, her tone a forced calm. “Someone should really teach you what happens when you fuck with the wrong people.”

“Then teach me.”

You don’t want to egg her on, you didn’t even want to see this girl in the first place. But nonetheless, the things she’s saying—how she’s acting, it’s bringing out a side of you that you try to keep hidden. Composed under years of self-calming techniques and resilience. Maybe it’s just adding onto the extra shit going on right now, but the fact that she’s managed to anger you this much in such little time is infuriating in itself. You don’t want to give her the energy or time of day. But, you also don’t want her to think she can get away with speaking about Koji like this—about you like this.

You two are engaged in a heavy staring contest, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Facing each other with an equal stance of hostility. The air between you is thick with tension, every second stretching like an eternity as neither of you breaks eye contact. Himari’s jaw tightens, her polished exterior beginning to crack. It’s subtle, but you catch it—the slight twitch of her lip, the faint waver in her composed demeanor. For all her bravado, she didn’t expect you to stand your ground.

“What’s going on?” Satoru’s worried, but quick and abrupt voice interrupts the moment. Coming in through the still-open door, closing it behind him, and meticulously placing himself between you two. He looks at you, checking to make sure you’re okay but focusing on his girlfriend. “Himari, what are you—”

The sound of a palm smacking hard against his skin reverberates throughout the place, cutting him off with such force that it leaves a stunned silence in its wake. Your eyes widen, watching as Satoru doesn’t move his head for a moment from the side it has just been slapped to. Looking closer, red already begins to break out on his pale cheek. Your jaw clenches.

He slowly looks back at Himari, who faces him with an angry look. Satoru’s face hardens as he does so, his eyes narrowing slightly. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, a sharp edge that doesn’t appear often but sends a chill down your spine when it does. His voice is low and measured, a stark contrast to the tension radiating off him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm but laced with steel. 

Himari doesn’t flinch, her fury unabated. “For letting this—this circus go on!” she snaps, gesturing between you and him. “For embarrassing me, for letting her waltz in and ruin everything we’ve built! How can you stand there and not see what she’s doing to us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He huffs out, straightening his jaw out.

“You lie to me, you dodge my questions, and now I find out you have a fucking son? And with a woman like her?” She points to you, scoffing at the idea. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of levity, are clouded with frustration now. “Himari, stop,” he says firmly, his voice low but commanding. “You’re crossing a line.”

Himari laughs bitterly, her voice dripping with disdain. “Oh, I’m crossing a line? You’ve been lying to me for who knows how long, and I’m the one in the wrong? I think I have every right to be angry, Satoru!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “You’re angry, fine. But don’t you dare talk about her like that,” he snaps, nodding toward you. “This isn’t her fault. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

You’re the last one to blame, Satoru. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of the moment radiating off them both. Himari’s sharp gaze darts to you, her lips curling in disdain. “Of course, you’d defend her. She’s nothing but a leech, clinging to you because she has no other options. And now you’re letting her use that kid to worm her way into your life.”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, startling both you and Himari. He steps forward, his towering presence imposing as his icy glare fixes on her. “You don’t get to talk about her—or my son—like that. Ever. Do you hear me?”

Himari’s eyes widen, a flicker of shock passing through her anger. But she recovers quickly, her voice lowering to a venomous hiss. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re ruining everything for someone who’s nothing to you. Do you really think she’s here for you? She’s here for your money, your status. Wake up, Satoru.”

“Himari, you should go now.”

“Oh, I will,” She tilts her chin up at him. “My parents have a lot to say to you and your own. So be ready for that. If you think I’m bailing out on this relationship, I’m not. I am not letting you ruin this—ruin us.”

She speaks with finality, practically pushing into him as she heads for the door. Not even sparing another glance back before exiting, the door slamming after her. All that’s left behind is an uneasy silence. Satoru stays frozen in place for a moment, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the frustration, the exhaustion, the lingering anger. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his snowy hair before turning to face you. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low, almost defeated. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Your lips form a faint grimace, your head slowly shaking. “No, don’t apologize. I–I’m sorry.” You pause again before carefully asking, “Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes momentarily with a sigh, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Does she…slap you like that, like—usually?” The question feels nasty to ask, but you can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of seeing your ex and father of your son being so carelessly and almost nonchalantly hit like that. No matter who did it.

“Well, no,” he says. “But when she gets really pissed at me, well—she lashes out.”

Your stomach churns at his words, and despite the tension that still hangs between you two, your heart feels heavy with a mix of concern and unease. You want to reach out, but you’re not sure how, not after everything that’s happened. “That’s not okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. No one should. I don’t…like seeing you get treated like that, Satoru.”

Satoru’s gaze softens, though he quickly brushes it off with a wave of his hand, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “It’s fine, really. It’s just how she is when she’s angry. I’m used to it.” The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes your chest tighten. You want to argue, to tell him that being used to it doesn’t make it right, but you hold back. He’s not a child; he doesn’t need to be coddled. But the way he brushes off the situation, like it’s no big deal, makes it hard to ignore that maybe he’s been through this for far too long. You almost start wishing you could go back in time and slap her instead. 

“Still,” you say, taking a cautious step closer. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve that.”

Satoru finally meets your gaze, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. He seems grateful, but there’s also a wall behind his expression, a part of him that refuses to acknowledge the pain beneath the surface. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “But I’m okay. Really. I just…I know how to deal with her.”

The words seem rehearsed, like he’s convincing himself as much as anyone else. You can tell he’s not fully okay. And, despite the atmosphere between you two, you know he’s not asking for your sympathy. But you can’t help but feel like there’s more beneath it all that he’s not saying, things he’s kept hidden far too long. “It looks a little swollen, do you want to ice it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He agrees, walking to his freezer and getting out a small icepack. You hover awkwardly, unsure if you should leave him be or offer some strange sense of comfort. But it feels wrong to just leave like that. Sure, there’s a certain line marked between you two, but you still have empathy. Morality. You’re still a good person, and so is Satoru. So, you step forward slowly, still leaving enough room for him to deny you.

Satoru doesn’t protest as you move closer, but you notice the way his body tenses just slightly, a subtle indication that he’s still not entirely comfortable. He continues to press the icepack to his cheek with a quiet sigh, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The sound of the ice against his skin is the only noise filling the silence between you. You can’t help but feel the weight of it all—the tension, the unresolved emotions, the hurt. You know he’s not the type to open up easily, but something about the way he’s holding himself, the guarded look in his eyes, tells you he’s struggling with more than just the immediate confrontation with Himari.

Your hand reaches up and tentatively replaces his own on the pack. 

Satoru tenses again for a moment at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. He lets you take the icepack from him, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. The warmth of his skin against yours lingers, and you feel a shift in the air between you, something unspoken, yet palpable. You keep the ice gently on his swollen cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure. Your eyes meet his, the proximity somehow making everything feel more intimate than it should be, and yet, in that moment, it feels right—like you’re not just helping him physically, but in some quiet, emotional way too. His gaze softens, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his usually guarded expression. The situation reminds you of the past.

Nights when he was too sleep-deprived to function, the times when he accidentally cut himself with a knife while making dinner, or the times you used to apply face masks together during your sleepovers. It all feels like how it used to.

"Let me," you say softly, a quiet reassurance in your voice, though you’re unsure why you feel the need to offer it. Maybe it’s because, despite the complicated history between you two, in this moment, it feels like you’re more than just the roles you’ve played—more than the messy entanglements that surround you both.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a few seconds, his eyes focusing on the ice as you hold it against his cheek. The silence between you is no longer uncomfortable, but rather, it feels like a rare kind of peace, a brief respite from the chaos. "Thanks for doing this," he says eventually, his voice softer than usual. "I know it’s not easy, dealing with all the shit going on, but... I appreciate it."

You nod, unsure of how to respond to that. It’s strange, helping him like this, especially considering how much tension has been between you two recently. But the act itself, simple as it is, feels like a small moment of clarity amidst all the confusion. "You don’t have to thank me," you say quietly, looking up at him. “I’m here. For whatever you need. Just…don’t blame yourself. It’s all my fault.”

You both stand there for a long moment, neither of you moving, just sharing the space. No words are needed, the action itself speaking volumes more than anything you could say aloud. He looks like he wants to protest, to say that you’re wrong and that he has some blame in this giant mess too. But he stays silent, enjoying the comfortability of a life that seems to offer none of that so far. It’s like he still—after all this time—finds his peace with you. 

That thought makes him feel put off.

Because while he can’t stop how his heart feels and force it to feel the opposite, there are still lingering emotions of annoyance. Of how this all could’ve been avoided. Of how he still hasn’t completely forgiven you. Of how that small part of him hates you. Hate? Does he hate you? It seems like he has an answer to that question when you gently place a hand on his chest. Head leaning up like it’s ready for something, your eyes flickering down to his lips. He sees it; knows it’s coming. But he doesn’t move, for some reason. 

Your hand freezes the moment you realize what you’re doing, quickly stopping yourself from leaning up anymore. Though it’s a little too late for that, considering you’re this close to his lips. You hadn't even noticed it at first, your body moving on instinct, closing the distance between you two. But now that his chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, the weight of your action feels impossibly heavy. 

“I…” you stammer, the words getting caught in your throat. You glance up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, searching for some kind of response. But his expression is unreadable, his pale lashes half-lowered as he looks at you with something in between confusion and guarded curiosity. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, and you can tell he’s trying to process what just happened—what’s happening now. His lips open like he’s about to say something, but the silence stretches between you both instead. Finally, his hand moves, brushing lightly over your wrist, a cautious touch, testing your reaction. “Why did you do that?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual, yet laced with an edge of something you can’t quite place. It’s not anger, but it’s not entirely calm either.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pull your hand back quickly, as if you’ve burned yourself, clutching it against your chest like it might shield you from the tension. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry.”

“No,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “You were.”

His words send a jolt through you, and for a moment, you feel exposed, like he’s peeled back a layer of your defenses you weren’t ready to give up. He doesn’t break eye contact, but there’s a shift in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper—conflict, maybe. 

“Satoru,” you start, but the name sounds so small, so uncertain, even to you. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re making this complicated,” he cuts in, his tone sharper now, like he’s trying to create a barrier between you again. “I’m trying to figure this out. Everything. And you…you can’t just—” He stops himself, exhaling harshly, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “You can’t just do things like that and expect me to know what the hell you’re thinking.”

You flinch slightly at the bite in his words, but you don’t back down. “I’m not trying to complicate anything,” you reply, more firmly this time. “I just—I don’t know how to act around you anymore. It’s like I can’t get it right.”

Satoru takes a step back, putting more distance between you, but his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

A silence befalls you two. One that threatens you to curse yourself for ruining something so small and tender because of your own selfish desires. What reason was it for? Why did you do that? Maybe it was just a small moment of hallucination. You weren’t thinking right, only your body was. Or maybe it was the peacefulness that tiny moment brought you, or it felt right and nostalgic. Your feelings are already all jumbled up, this situation didn’t make it any better. 

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as you both stand there, neither daring to speak or move. You feel the weight of your own actions crashing down on you, each second of quiet like an accusation. What were you thinking? The question echoes in your mind, louder and louder. Was it a lapse in judgment? A selfish impulse? Or something else entirely—a longing for something that no longer exists? 

You glance at Satoru, his expression unreadable, the cool mask he wears so well firmly in place. You wish he’d say something, anything, even if it was to scold you or tell you to leave. But he doesn’t. He just stares, and the silence twists deeper into your chest. 

Why did you do that? you wonder again, your thoughts spiraling. Maybe it was the way his presence felt familiar, and comforting, even after everything. Or maybe it was the way the tension between you two softened for just a fleeting second when you held that ice pack for him. Or, it could’ve been just the nostalgia—a memory of a time when things were less complicated when you didn’t feel so distant, so broken. 

But now? Now it feels like you’ve ruined even that small, fragile thread of peace. The silence between you isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s damning. You’ve crossed a line, one you didn’t even realize was still there.  

You open your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, to apologize again, but no words come out. Because what could you possibly say? That it was a mistake? That you weren’t thinking? That for just one moment, you wanted to feel close to him again, even if it wasn’t real?  Satoru finally exhales, breaking the quiet. His gaze flickers down, then away, like he can’t look at you anymore. “I think…” He trails off, his voice quieter than before. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t… overthink this.”

You blink at him, unsure if he’s trying to offer you an out or protect himself. “Overthink what?” you manage to ask, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks at you then, his expression softening just slightly, but there’s still a wall between you. “Whatever this is,” he says, gesturing vaguely between you two. “I’m trying to figure things out, and this...it just complicates everything.”

Your chest tightens at his words, but you nod, forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “I get it.” But do you? Or are you just agreeing because it’s easier than admitting that you don’t know where the lines are anymore? Or if they still exist. Or that you don’t even know how you feel—let alone how he feels.  

“I should go,” you say finally, your voice steadier now. You grab your bag again that you set on the table haphazardly after the girlfriend run-in, avoiding his gaze, and head for the door. But just as you’re about to leave, you pause, turning back to him. “Satoru… I’m sorry.” I really didn’t mean it.  

He doesn’t respond immediately, his hand lifting briefly as if he’s going to reach for you but dropping back to his side. “Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Me too.”

You don’t waste time in making your departure after hearing his words. The door closes behind you as you briskly make your way to the elevator. Letting out a breath you must’ve been holding the whole time once you’re in. Watching yourself drop floor by floor, each thought sounding louder than the previous one. Questions of why bouncing off the walls of your brain. You don’t know why; or maybe you do, you just can’t face it yet. 

You’re not sure you want to face it. 

You can only hope Satoru is right about all this and he stays true to his word. Don’t overthink it, pretend it didn’t happen. That should be easy, right? It should be simple, just forget it. 

The elevator doors slide open, and the cold air from the lobby greets you as you step out. The stillness of the afternoon settles around you like a blanket, thick and suffocating. You pause just outside the building, inhaling deeply as if the fresh air will help clear your head. But it doesn’t. The questions still echo, louder now in the quiet of the world around you. Maybe the answer, it’s been there all along, waiting for the cracks in your armor to show. But facing it means confronting feelings you’ve kept locked away for years—feelings you’re not sure you’re ready to admit exist.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence. You pull it out, and Hana’s name lights up the screen. Guilt instantly knots in your stomach. You’ve been so caught up in your own whirlwind of emotions that you completely forgot about your shift. “Hey,” you answer, your voice tight but steady.

“Y/N? Where the hell have you been?” Hana’s voice is sharp but concerned. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stammer, forcing a calm tone. “Just… had some things to take care of. I’m sorry for being late, I’m coming right now.”

There’s a pause on her end, and then she sighs. “Look, just get here when you can, alright? We’ll talk about this later.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, already walking toward the nearest bus stop. “I’ll be there soon.”

As the line disconnects, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and quicken your pace. Hopefully, work will be a distraction, something to keep your mind from circling back to Satoru, to what happened, to everything it could and couldn’t mean. Because right now, pretending it didn’t happen feels safer than admitting that it did. And you can only hope—pray, even that Satoru is doing the same. 

Satoru had barely even eaten the lunch he grabbed from his fridge. Driving back to the office in complete silence, not even putting the radio on as background noise. Now, he’s just staring down at his food on his desk, finger tapping against the armrest of his chair. The food sits untouched in front of him, its aroma barely registering as Satoru leans back in his chair. His finger taps rhythmically against the armrest, an unconscious outlet for the storm of thoughts swirling in his head—an unusual quietness for someone who usually thrives on noise.

But now, the silence feels deafening.

His jaw tightens as he replays the scene in his apartment, your expression when you left, and the weight of your hand on his chest, the way you leaned in so casually, so instinctively. He lets out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair. “Get it together,” he mutters under his breath, glaring at the half-eaten sandwich sitting before him like it’s the cause of his current turmoil.

He’s angry—not just at you, but at himself. At the way his heart reacted in that split second, betraying him when he was supposed to have control. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, not after everything that had happened between you two. But that small moment—the fleeting touch, the look in your eyes—it’s left him shaken in a way he can’t quite articulate.

The sharp knock at his office door jolts him out of his thoughts. He straightens, hastily pushing the food aside and clearing his throat. “Yeah, come in,” he calls, his voice a little rougher than intended.

A junior colleague pokes their head in, a stack of files in their hands. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but these need your signature before the end of the day.”

“Just leave them on the desk,” he replies, barely sparing a glance.

The younger employee hesitates, sensing the tension in the room, before quickly placing the files down and retreating. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his desk as he buries his face in his hands. He knows he won’t get anything done like this, but his thoughts are relentless. And no matter how much he tells himself to let it go, he can’t shake the memory of your hand, your eyes, the way you looked at him as if you were searching for something he’s not sure he can give. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, shoving his chair back and standing abruptly. Maybe he needs to walk it off, clear his head, do something—anything—to stop thinking about you.

A few minutes pass, busying himself with the signatures before the doors open again, this time with no warning knock. “I’ve had people look into the leak, it was an anonymous source. There’s a group of men your father sent to scout out the possible places the picture was taken from.”

His mother’s voice is a small distraction from his inner turmoil. Of course it’s not the exact thing he’d like to hear and discuss right now, but anything to take his mind off today's earlier events. “Any luck?”

She sighs, rubbing a hand through her greying hair. “As of now, no. But we’re narrowing it down. Your father believes the leak came from a possible rival.”

Satoru sits up straight. “Like the Zenins?”

Grimacing at the mere mention of that family, Akane frowns but shakes her head. “No, surprisingly. They were out on a family vacation to Italy. I got word they landed back last night.”

“Still, it could’ve been from them. Maybe they hired someone.” 

The Zenins and the Gojo Group have been rivals for a long time now. Though most would probably consider them to have a “frenemies” sort of relationship, some of the people in that family are just…horrible. Not all, but almost all. Satoru lets out a low breath, leaning back in his chair as memories of past encounters with the Zenins flash through his mind. He’s been forced to deal with them more times than he can count—at corporate events, business dealings, even unfortunate leisure events—and each time, their games get more infuriating.

The Zenins own a massive real estate and infrastructure business called the Zenin Development Group, or ZDP for short. The ZDP hasn’t shied away from the use of rumors in the past that attempted to damage the Gojo Group’s image. Satoru remembers one incident where word had been flying around about the Gojo Group “losing its footing in certain markets”. A sorry try at weakening their investor confidence. The head of the Zenins, Toji, is usually the more critical and logical man. His cousin however, the man who was supposed to be in Toji’s spot, isn’t. That cousin, lacking Toji’s cunning and restraint filled nature, remains a wildcard Satoru would rather not deal with. 

Still, their family name alone is enough to make Satoru’s jaw clench.

Akane pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “It’s a possibility, but your father’s men are thorough. If the Zenins hired someone, we’d have a trail by now. And honestly, Satoru, with the way that family operates, they’d have made sure you knew it was them. Subtlety isn’t exactly their strong suit.”  

Satoru lets out a dry huff, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re right. They love to flaunt their chaos.”  

“Exactly,” Akane replies, crossing her arms as she paces. “This is different. It feels… personal. Whoever leaked that photo isn’t trying to start a war—they’re trying to cause damage. To you specifically or the company name, either or.”  

He tilts his head, processing her words. “Why would it be specifically me? And not the family, not the company?”  

“Well right now, it’s focused on you. It’s not the usual business sabotage we see with rivals.” Akane’s tone is pointed as she stops pacing, fixing him with a meaningful look. “They knew about Koji. This wasn’t some random slip. Someone wanted that information out in the open.”  

Satoru’s chest tightens, his mind flickering to you and Koji. It hadn’t been long since his son came into his life, and now—now everything felt like it was spiraling faster than he could keep up.  

“You think it’s someone close,” he mutters, not quite phrasing it as a question. “A partner?”

Akane’s silence is enough of an answer.  

Satoru pushes a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “If it’s personal, then who the hell has it out for me like this? Himari’s pissed, but she’s not stupid enough to—”  

Akane cuts him off with a sharp look. “Don’t rule her out just yet.”  

Satoru scowls. “Come on, you really think—”  

“I think people do crazy things, no matter if we think they will or not,” Akane interrupts firmly. “And she’s been in your life for years now, Satoru. She’s close enough to pull something like this without you suspecting it.”  

Satoru is quiet for a beat, his mind whirring. “And if it’s not her?”  

“Then it’s someone else in our circle,” Akane says, her voice cool and confident. “Someone with access. Someone who knows where to hit.”  

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His world already feels like it’s splitting at the seams, and now someone is actively trying to make it worse.  

“What do we do now?” he asks finally, his tone subdued.  

Akane straightens, her expression hardening with resolve. “We tighten security, keep this contained as best as we can. Your father will expect you to do damage control. In the meantime, I’ll keep digging to find out who’s behind this.”  

“And what’s his plan if we find the source?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

Her lips thin into a straight line. “We’ll handle it as we always do. Quietly. Efficiently.”

Satoru nods, his jaw set. “Good. Do whatever you have to. I want answers.”  

Akane turns to leave but pauses at the door. “And Satoru—be careful who you trust.”  

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Satoru alone once more, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the silence.  

Someone close to him betrayed him. Someone knew about Koji. Was he getting followed again? It couldn’t have been the informant his parents sent after him when he was gone, they already checked in with him and scared him to keep his mouth shut about anything. 

Satoru swivels the mouse to his computer, lighting up the screen once more. An article he had stopped reading a few minutes prior appears. The Zenin Development Group, of course, had been the first to make a comment. Within hours of the news breaking, they released a veiled statement—dressed up as “a comment on modern family values”—that clearly took aim at the Gojo Group. The implication had been clear: Satoru Gojo, the golden heir, had secrets. Unpredictability. For a family like the Gojos, where control was everything, it was a calculated jab. The Zenins would never miss an opportunity to capitalize on a weakness. He laced his fingers together as his mind runs. 

The real estate moguls weren’t the only ones circling, though. Smaller partnerships had already started asking questions. He was hoping that deals that were already set in stone wouldn’t suddenly slow to a crawl with poor excuses of  “we’re just waiting to finalize a few details” piling up. However, investors did send cautious emails, politely “checking in” to ensure the Gojo Group was still on track.

And the last thing the Gojo Group needed were foreign partners—companies Satoru and his father had worked years to solidify relationships with—showing even hints of hesitation. People wanted answers, of course, clarity. How does the man who’s heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates have a child hidden away? And more importantly, what else don’t they know?

Satoru exhales sharply, his fingers pressing harder into each other. It had taken everything in him not to lose his temper in the initial meetings of this morning. The entire damn building practically gawked at him more than usual when he strutted in. He felt their silent questions, their shock and confusion. None of them voiced anything, but that didn’t stop them from secretly whispering to each other when they thought he couldn’t hear. He kept his voice steady, his demeanor calm—like none of this mattered, like he wasn’t feeling the weight of it all pressing against his ribs. To his credit, most of the major deals were still holding. The Gojo name was far too powerful to be shaken by one scandal, but that didn’t mean cracks hadn’t appeared.

There were still murmurs, even within his own company. Executives muttering over coffee, wondering if the family would take action to “correct the situation.” His parents had already made their stance clear—they wanted this “mess” cleaned up quickly. A statement. A press release. Something that would sweep the story under the rug.

But Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he? What would he even say? That he’s sorry?

His son wasn’t a mistake.

He glances over to the untouched lunch on his desk, appetite long gone. Koji hadn’t asked to be born into this family, into this life of scrutiny and power plays. And yet here he was—thrust into the spotlight because of some unruly person who doesn’t give a damn about anything. The Gojo Group would weather this storm—he’d have to make sure of it.

Still, it’s the moments between all the business calls and the carefully crafted emails that gnaw at him the most. When he catches a glimpse of Koji’s face in the news coverage, or sees your name being dragged into articles alongside his. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be shocked at how quickly the public found that out.

It’s just business, he reminds himself.

But Satoru knows better than anyone—nothing about this has ever just been business.

He rubs his face again this time harder, checking the time.  

Distraction, distraction, distraction. He takes his phone out, going to his messages. Hovering his thumb over your name, before biting the bullet and sending you a text. 

I’m picking up Koji today.

A few minutes later…

Y/N:

Are you sure? I can

Already decided, don’t worry about it

Satoru pauses again, his thumbs doing circles over the bright screen as he thinks of the correct way to articulate his next text. 

You should probably stay over again. I’ll watch Koji but if you’re working late, he’ll end up falling asleep. I don’t want you guys out alone at night.

Is that too forward of him to say? Truly, he does mean it for your protection and safety. He’s willing to look past whatever it was earlier today, just as long as you and his son don’t accidentally get ambushed by reporters or strangers. Besides, he’s making up for lost time, remember? 

Another few minutes passed with no reply. Assuming you’re busy at work right now, he’s about to shut his phone off and stand up when you say…

Y/N:

Oh, okay. Just one more night

He wishes he can read your tone better through text.

“Papa.”

“Yeah, buddy?” Satoru wipes a small stream of chocolate ice cream from his son’s mouth. He wonders if you’d scold him for giving him ice cream on a cold day. But hey, his son did ask. And who is he to say no?

“On January 5th, it’s a special day.” Koji grins, little legs swinging back and forth over the bed, watching his father clean up the room his son will be sleeping in again tonight. Another reason you’d probably be mad at him for eating ice cream, it’s night time and he’s about to go to sleep. 

Satoru had gone to the store after picking up Koji from school to buy a quick set of pajamas and tiny underwear for the boy after realizing he had absolutely no spare children’s clothes laying around. 

Why would he?

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” 

Koji’s grin widens, his little hands clutching the edge of the bed as if he’s holding onto the excitement bubbling inside him. “It’s Dad Appreciation Day at school!”

Satoru freezes mid-motion, Dad Appreciation Day. He turns slowly, trying to keep his voice light and teasing even as something twists in his chest. “Oh, is that so? And what happens on Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji beams up at him, oblivious to the subtle tension in his father’s stance. “It’s a day where we get to bring our dads to school and show them all the cool stuff we made! Mr. Ito says we’re gonna draw pictures and talk about how awesome they are!” He pauses for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. “And I already told everyone my dad is the coolest of them all.”

Satoru swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “You did, huh?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, his little legs still swinging. “Yeah! ‘Cause you are the coolest, Papa.” He says it like it’s the simplest truth in the world, his voice full of innocence and pride.

Satoru stares at him for a beat too long, that twisting feeling growing stronger. He crouches down in front of Koji, meeting his son’s wide, expectant eyes. But he can’t hold back the warmth that blooms in his being. “So, you want me to come to this Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji nods again, so quickly it looks like his head might fall off. “Yep! And I want you to meet my friends! And—” he pauses suddenly, glancing down at his hands as if shy about what he’s about to say. “And I want them to know you’re real.”

The words hit Satoru harder than he expects. He blinks, his heart stuttering in his chest. “What do you mean, buddy? Of course I’m real.”

Koji fidgets, his fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “Sometimes the other kids say I’m making stuff up. That I don’t really have a dad ‘cause they’ve never seen you. But I told them you’re real! And you’re awesome and tall and can do anything. I don’t have pictures of you either to show them.” He lifts his head again, his little face hopeful. “So…you’ll come, right?”

Satoru feels something ache deep in his chest—a mix of guilt, pride, and something he can’t quite name. This is what he’s been afraid of. The impact his absence might have on Koji, the doubts his son has had to defend himself against. Although it’s not his fault, he still feels awful over the fact that his son is getting criticized by other little shitheads for “lying about his dad”.

Again, who is he to say no?

Satoru musters a soft smile, reaching out to ruffle Koji’s hair. “Of course I’ll come, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Koji’s face lights up, a pure, unfiltered joy spreading across his features. “Really?! You promise?”

“I promise.” Satoru’s voice is steady, despite the weight of the promise he’s just made. Because for once, he isn’t thinking about the scandal, the headlines, or what his family might say. Right now, all he sees is his son’s smile—the only thing that matters.

Koji throws his arms around Satoru’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Papa. You’re the best.”

Satoru wraps his arms around the little boy, holding him close as he presses a kiss to the top of his head. “No, Koji. You’re the best.”

At this moment, Satoru feels like he’s doing something right.

Satoru sits back, still holding Koji close as the boy relaxes in his arms, content and unaware of the complexities that hang over his father. For a few moments, the weight of the world feels light, and the chaos of his personal and professional life fades into the background. He can’t help but wish he could bottle up this peace and take it with him everywhere. 

Koji yawns, his little body starting to slump against Satoru’s chest, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. Satoru gently shifts him back onto the bed, tucking the covers around him. Taking his ice cream from him, the room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. He watches as Koji’s eyes flutter closed, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips.

Satoru stands up slowly, lingering for a moment to make sure Koji is comfortable. He reaches for the nightlight switch, casting the room in a soft glow, then turns back to the door. His thoughts are no longer on the promises made to the company or the looming questions about his future with his family. It’s all about Koji, about being the father his son deserves.

As he steps out into the hallway, Satoru feels the familiar weight of the world returning, just a little. There are meetings tomorrow, more calls to take, and a whole slew of problems waiting for him. But tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, he has something to look forward to. A chance to be present, to be the kind of parent he knows he can be. And that’s enough for now.

He takes a deep breath, letting the silence settle around him as he heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. Tomorrow will come with its own challenges, but tonight, he can rest easy knowing that for once, he has what he wants within his grasp. 

Despite his long day, Satoru feels a small obligation to stay up for you. Ensuring you make it back safe and all. You had insisted on using the bus back home, but he sent you money for a cab instead. Sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating atop. Still in his white button up and black slacks, white socks on. Once you knock on the door, he’s answering. “Hey, how was work?”

“Okay,” you mumble, walking past him inside. From your demeanor, you look tired. Maybe even still awkward. He locks the door shut and walks over, hovering next to you as you did your body of your coat and shoes. 

“Koji’s asleep.”

You nod. “Okay, thank you.”

“No problem ,” he lightly shrugs. “Um…are you hu—“

“No, no. Not really. I think I just want to shower and sleep.”

Satoru watches as you slip off your shoes, your shoulders heavy, and your movements slower than usual. He can tell you’re not in the mood for any more conversation, and he doesn’t want to push. The tension between you both is still there, unspoken but present in every glance, every word. But he’s trying to keep the peace, trying to respect the distance you’ve put between the two of you.

“Alright, well, if you need anything...” he trails off, not sure what else to say. He knows he could offer more, but right now, he’s unsure what would make you feel more at ease. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like he’s prying.

You glance over at him for a brief moment, your face unreadable. “Thanks,” you mutter, the words soft but genuine. 

He hums back, putting his hands in his pockets. “And he told me about the Dad day. I’ll clear my schedule and go.”

You glance up at him, a surprised but relieved expression flickering across your face. You hadn’t expected him to follow through so easily, but the way he says it so matter-of-factly makes you believe him. “That’s… that’s really great, Satoru,” you say quietly, trying not to let your gratitude sound too heavy. You didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. But deep down, you’re thankful. For Koji’s sake, for his happiness, and maybe for yours too.

Satoru gives you a small smile, almost like a silent reassurance, though his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty, as if he’s still unsure of how to navigate all the unspoken words hanging between you two. “It’s nothing. He’s my son, after all. I wouldn’t miss it.”

You nod, giving him a small smile back, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease. 

“I should let you get some rest,” he adds, his voice softening, almost like he’s giving you an out. “I know you’ve had a long day. I left some of my clothes out in the bathroom for you, if that’s okay.”

You nod again, appreciative of his understanding. It’s strange how he can act so distant and yet, in moments like these, he can be so… present. For once, you don’t feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. Maybe it’s because of Koji, or maybe it’s because Satoru’s actually trying. “That’s okay, thank you again.”

“Stop thanking me so much,” he shakes you off, walking over to the sink to begin washing the dishes. For a second, you watch his back, seeing the muscles of his firm skin through the almost dangerously thin material of his shirt. You look away, realizing you’ve been staring for too long and head over to the bathroom to begin your shower. 

Once again, the water feels warm and comforting against your skin. It’s what you look forward to after your days. Relaxing and letting loose, letting your shower ease your tension in your shoulders. Freeing your body of the day’s dirt and oil, feeling an ungodly amount of clean. Maybe it’s Satoru’s detachment shower head, or his lovely smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, but it makes you sight wistfully. 

You allow yourself to bask in it, longer than you would back at your place because it’s not your water bill. As you step out and dry yourself off, the clothes that are left are a simple white t-shirt with boxers. Probably the only thing he has that can semi-fit you. 

However, you can’t resist the urge to bring the soft material up to your nostrils, eyes closing as you inhale deeply. It fills your senses with a strange, but familiar twist. Oh god, how you love his smell. 

That’s okay to admit still, right?

It’s not even just his cologne, but him. You’ve always loved it, always sniffed him and his clothes randomly. He’d make fun of you sometimes for it, just light teasing. Of course, he also was in love with the idea that just his scent alone can get you going. 

Inhale after inhale, practically stuffing the clothing in your face before taking the moment to actually put them on. Still big, but manageable. Besides, it’s just one more night. You and Koji will be back to the apartment tomorrow. 

After a good 45 minutes in the bathroom, you step out and walk in the direction of the room Koji’s in. But, you bump right into Satoru as you do so. He’s holding his own pair of pajamas in his arm. “Oh, sorry,” you quickly apologize and step back, voice low in effort to keep your son asleep. The dim lighting of the hallway almost makes his features even more pretty. “Did I take a long time? I thought you showered already.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replies, the bright hue of his eyes moving up and down. “You look…” He pauses, and there’s something in his gaze that’s hard to place, but you can feel the weight of it. “Comfortable.”

You feel your cheeks warm under his attention, but you don’t say anything in response. “Yeah, I am.”

He nods briefly and in silence. Once again, it’s like that moment from earlier today is making an appearance again. But this time it feels a little more electrified. Maybe it’s from the way his Adam’s Apple visibly bobs up and down like he’s gulping hard. Or the way his mouth has suddenly dried out. Or the way he has sudden invading memories of you wearing his shirt with nothing else after a passionate moment. Suddenly, he feels a problem. 

“Goodnight,” he swiftly utters, walking past you into the bathroom. His movements are hurried, turning the shower back on, putting his clothes down onto the sink and ridding his current wear. By the second, a knowing throb is taking place, one that almost causes him to groan out when his hand accidentally brushes against it. 

The water’s still cold as he gets in—he figures that’s a good thing. 

As the water splashes over his skin, Satoru tries to focus on the cold, the sting of it against his flushed skin, to fight off the growing tension that is so hard to ignore. His thoughts are a blur—memories of moments with you, your laughter, the way you’ve always looked at him, the touch of your skin, your smell. They all collide inside his head, each one triggering the next, until it’s impossible to escape the warmth of his desire. He tries to shake it off, tilting his face up to splash cold water onto it, breathing heavily as the icy droplets hit his skin. But the image of you wearing his shirt, the softness of the fabric against your bare skin, refuses to leave his mind. It’s maddening. There’s a part of him that feels guilty, like he’s crossing some boundary, but another part, the part that craves the connection with you, is too strong.

The tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, feels like it’s pulling him in two different directions. The man he’s supposed to be—focused, disciplined, in control—and the man who craves more than just physical closeness. 

“Get it together, idiot,” he mutters under his breath, the words coming out as a sharp reprimand, though he knows it’s easier said than done.

The water begins to warm, slowly, but he doesn’t notice, his thoughts swirling like a storm. What the hell are you doing to him?

He takes a deep breath and turns the temperature up, letting the water envelop him, hoping that it will cool the fire inside of him. But somehow, it just feels like the heat of the moment is following him everywhere. 

What was he thinking letting you wear his clothes again? He’s practically asking for it. He should’ve thought more about his decision. But at the time, he was thinking with his brain, not his hard cock. 

Sparing a small glance down, his lips downturn. The tip is already an angry red and he’s barely touched himself, his veins becoming more prominent by the second as the blood rushes up and up. It’s practically begging to be felt, begging to be released. 

He feels like such an idiot. A perverted idiot. 

But with each blink, he’s getting flashbanged of past memories. The way your moans sounded heavenly in his ear, the way you squeezed around him that had his eyes rolling back. When you’d make that cute little noise when he’d circle a thumb on your pussy clif, simultaneously bullying your hole with his cock. The way you’d hold onto him. The way you—oh god. 

His body has such a mind of its own. 

He’s twitching in his hand, achingly so. Forcing down the surge of sudden need and focusing on the now. Willing his body to stop reacting so…blatant. It’s hard. In both ways. Satoru’s a grown man. He’s not used to such childish behaviors like this anymore. Keeping the lewd noises that threaten to leave his lips down like he’s a teenager all over again, scared of getting caught jacking off in his bedroom while his parents were down the hall. And he especially didn’t think he’d react like this all over again, and so damn easily too.

That’s what pisses him off most. Aside from the fact that you seemed so nonchalant. As if you didn’t know what was happening. That, or you’ve just become a good actress.

The water pellets down on him, hoping that the sound of his warm shower is enough to drown out the noise of the shaky moan that accidentally slips from his lips. This is bad; you and his son are sleeping peacefully in the other room and he’s here doing this.

But he just can’t help himself. His cheeks are flushed red, not just from the water. Head tilting back as he lays his left palm flat on the shower wall. For a second, he lets himself indulge in his selfish desires. And for a second, he doesn’t mind the fact that he just came to the thought of another woman and not his current girlfriend.

Jesus, he’s fucked up, isn’t he?

The next day proves to be busy. With the sudden influx of customers, everyone has been practically busting their ass off. You’re happy to go home, no longer dealing with that hustle and bustle. 

Hana stays for another couple hours until she too will be saved. She can’t even count on her hands how many times a customer or customers have asked for you. She feels bad, of course. You seem to be handling it, but at the same time, you’re not. 

She’s learned her lesson not to pry anymore when you seem close to the edge, that doesn’t diminish her worry as your friend. 

It’s slower as the day continues, the sun beginning to set and paint the sky with pretty shades of orange. She’s cleaning the tables, humming a small tune when the ding from above the door sounds. 

Like clockwork, she stops her cleaning and goes behind the register, planting a customer service smile. “Hello, welcome in.”

The man smiles back, though his seems more fake. Stepping upfront in front of her, looking over the menu placed above. He hums and talks his chin with his pointer finger. “What do you recommend?”

“The cookie butter latte is our best seller,” Hana replies. 

He nods again, his feline eyes flickering back down to her own brown pair. “That sounds wonderful, can I have that?”

“Of course.” Hana taps the order into the screen of the register, looking back up. “Anything else?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” He smoothly says. 

Hana blinks in surprise, momentarily thrown off guard by the man's sudden compliment. She forces a smile, not quite sure how to respond. Compliments were part of the job, but this one felt a little too close for comfort. She can feel the warmth creeping up her neck as she tries to keep the conversation professional. "Thank you," she says, voice even and polite. "Anything else I can get for you today?"

The man tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Maybe just your name?"

She offers a small, practiced smile, hoping to keep things casual. "Hana," she replies, maintaining eye contact but not giving away too much. "Now, would you like anything to go with your latte?"

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning the pastries behind the counter. "A chocolate croissant, please."

"Great choice," she says, quickly adding it to the order. "That'll be all?"

"For now," he says with a slight nod, but there's something in his tone that makes her wonder if it's really the last time she'll hear from him today.

Hana nods. “And a name for the order?”

He pulls out a crisp total of one thousand yen. “Naoya.”

a/n: writing the "kiss" scene made me think back to a time I dodged my ex's kiss b4 we started dating and I felt so embarrassed for him

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[yojeongin]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

join yojeongin’s taglist to be up to date with future work!

taglist: @haknyeonsju @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[strawberriianime]

Video Phone

♡ horney calls with JJk men

♡ satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, choso, sukuna.

♡ cw: 18+ content, sex on the phone, descriptions of sex and sex organs, breeding kink if you squint, degradation if you look fast, lots of dirty talk, praise kink (choso), mentions of creampies, mentions of facials, phone sexxxxx...enjoy!

✰ Satoru Gojo

"Can you see how hard I am?"

He flipped the camera showing his hardened dick, the red tip being covered by little beads of precum. His free hand wrapped around his dick stroking up and down slowly, thumb circling at his tip. You heard him let out a low groan as he fastened his pace fist getting more red in the process. "You like that baby?" you heard him speak pulling you out of your trance. "Fuck, wish I was home right now. Miss you so fucking bad." His words cause you to rub your thighs together feeling your own arousal dampen the panties you were wearing. "I bet you're wet as hell, come on baby use the new toy I got you." You felt around the nightstand drawer to find the shiny new glass toy. You quickly discarded your sleep shorts and panties before getting back under the covers. "Come on baby, you know I want to see." You grabbed the phone positioning it so it'll stand before rubbing the toy up and down your slit, the cool sensation sending a shiver up your spine. Circling the toy at your entrance, you pushed it In causing you to let out a high-pitched moan making your back arch slightly. "F-fuck" you heard Satoru groan. Pushing the toy, you began thrusting it in and out as sounds of your arousal flooded the room. "Shit you sound so wet, keep going im almost there." you could hear shuffling as you followed the instruction, moving the toy at a more rapid pace. "Ah fuck I'm going to cum, fuck baby you're doing such a good job. Fuck I miss you so bad....can't wait to get home and fuck my pretty girl. You can't wait until I get back home hmm?" He spews fastening his pace as he watches you please yourself with the toy. You moan feeling yourself clap around the glass to know your orgasm was approaching. "I-Immm about to" "Let it go baby" his words send you over the edge as you orgasm, sliding the toy out in the process. "Miss you so much"

✰ Suguru Geto

"It's not the same"

You whine out using your two fingers to circle your clit before pushing them inside. "You can do it" you hear your boyfriend's voice ring out as you grab the phone watching him smirk at your struggling attempts to satisfy yourself. He watches as you huff, frowning at him for his teasing remarks. "What, can't get yourself off? You need me that bad?" he speaks again causing you to roll your eyes again. "Just relax sweetheart" The smirk never leaves his face as he watches you lay back on the bed. "You have to warm yourself up first." You lay the phone down using your hands to rub at your breast, thumbs rolling over your nipples. You free your left hand, snaking it down your waist fingers trailing around your cunt. You part your legs using the new access to rub up and down your slit, collecting the arousal that had begun pooling. "Mmh make sure to go nice and slow, just how I do it." you follow his instructions trying to replicate his manners. You use the collected arousal to circle at your clit causing you to let out a whimper. Your fingers trailed down poking at your entrance before pushing them in causing you to sigh. You begin pumping two fingers in and out causing you to let out a series of moans, your legs shaking slightly at the intense amount of pleasure. "Fuck baby you're making me hard." you heard Suguru speak as shuffling sounds could be heard in his background. "Baby I need to see you" he speaks out causing you to reach out to the phone seeing he had shaken off his typical attire. You watched as he stroked his hardened dick, gripping it with such a tightness that his knuckles had turned white. Your fingers moved even more rapidly as you watched him stroke, his low moans making you more aroused. "Fuck Suguru I'm about to cum." you moan, fingers aching as you're getting closer to your release. "Cum, I wanna hear you cum." he groans out, the pace picking up. Your fingers curl slightly, pumping faster before your orgasm washes over you as you let out a sultry moan. "Fuck, I wish I was cumming in your pussy...what a waste of cum." "Babe!"

✰ Nanami Kento

*New message message: 6 photos*

He put his pen down seeing that you had messaged him, what he assumed asking of his whereabouts. He had got stuck working overtime once more to his dismay. He looked at the time on his phone, sighing thinking about how he'd rather be at home spending time with you. He clicked your contact, opening the message you had sent him. He was met with the sight of you wearing a white lingerie set that snuggled your body perfectly. Each picture had been taken from a different angle, allowing him to see the patterns and design of the lingerie. Fortunately for him, he had an office to himself which allowed him to have his much-needed privacy. Pulling him out of his thoughts, his phone rang as your contact popped up once more. Swiping, he picked up the Facetime call hearing that voice he loved oh so much "Hi baby, how's work?". "I'd rather be home" "I miss you such much, I can't wait until you get here it's so lonely in the mansion." he hears you sigh. He knows you too well and knows that you're up to something. The low moans that came through the line were more than enough confirmation that you were pleasing yourself. "You're that eager huh? Couldn't wait until I get home?" he sits in his office chair watching as you furrow your eyebrows in frustration. "I couldn't help it, I missed you so much." he watches as you press your lips together in a small pout. "Go ahead, continue what you were doing." he leans back into his chair, eyes fixated on the phone screen. You peeled off the lingerie set you were wearing, revealing your plump breast nipples hardening from the cool air of your bedroom. His breath hitched as he watched you pull down your panties, a thin barely visible string of arousal sticking between the two. He watches as you tease yourself, fingers brushing over your nipples as your other hand runs down to your sopping pussy. He watches you collect your juices on your finger, using it to swirl slowly at your clit. knock knock knock, "Mr. Kento?". He furrows his eyebrows frustrated, "You better not cum until I get home. Stay just like that, keep the clothes off" he eyes you as he disconnected the call. He thanks the heavens for his desk, because how odd would it be to explain the boner he suddenly popped.

✰ Toji Fushiguro

"Put your pussy on the phone."

He was completely serious, taking you off guard as he suddenly videocalled you. Toji isn't one to videocall so considering he did you figured it had to be something urgent. "Wait what?" you sat up readjusting your ears making sure you heard him correctly. "You heard what I said. It's been a shitty day and I still have 3 whole days left on this damn trip," he grumbled on the line making you giggle slightly. "Shit is that my shirt you got on?" he noticed the oversized black tee that swallowed your body. "Maybe" You knew it drove him crazy when you wore his clothes. "And what's under there," he asked raising an eyebrow. You raise your hand to the sky, giving him a full view of your body that is covered by the shirt. "Just the usual" You pulled the shirt up revealing your fully nude body. "Fuck" you heard him groan watching as he threw his head back. He watched as you grabbed a toy from under the pillow, bringing it to your dripping core. "Fuck baby stop teasing. Put the damn thing in," he demanded eyes glued to the screen watching as you rubbed the toy up and down your slit using your own arousal as a lubricant. You push the toy in whining as it stretches you out due to your lack of preparation. "I bet you wish it was my dick, wish it was the real thing." "That toy can't fuck you like I can cant make you squirt like I can." he spewed as he pumped at his dick you trusted the toy in and out lewd squelching noises filling the room, mixing with your moans. Your arm shook as the amount of pleasure was too much, "You better not drop this fucking phone" you heard him grumble causing you to steady your grip. You moan as you angle the toy, reaching a new spot you were unable to hit before. "Fuck you sound so good, I can hear the sound of that slutty pussy from over here. So wet for me, I miss it so bad. Shit, I can't wait to get back home and fuck that dirty little pussy. All wet and tight just for me." his words make you wetter by the minute as you moan at the idea of him fucking you roughly into the mattress. "I'm about to cum fuck, wish I was cumming in your pussy. I just wanna fill my pretty girl up with my babies. Huh like the sound of that? When I get back home I fuck a baby into you to keep you company when I'm gone?" your legs begin to shake as your orgasm approaches closely, your hand getting tired in the process. "Ah I-I....I-mmm cummingg" you moan out. "Cum for Daddy." your orgasm washed over you making your eyes roll back and your back arch, dropping the phone in the process. You grab the phone, seeing his dick covered in his thick cum leaking over onto his hand. "Wish you were here to lick it up."

✰ Choso

"Baby wait!"

He shook his head frantically as he watched on the phone as you moved to your bathroom. "What? It's not like we haven't showered together before. It's the same thing you're just not here physically." he watched frantically as you propped the phone up in the shower, securing it so it didn't fall. He watched as you stripped your dress off, bra and panties following shortly. His cheeks flushed red as he saw your nude body as you stepped into the shower, turning on the water. He watched as the water slid down your skin, glistening under the spotlight in your shower. The water ran from your head, down the sides of your face, neck, collarbone, down to your breast. Some ran lower, some stopped at your breast until they hit the perky nipples that he loved to such on. He watched as you squeezed soap onto your washcloth lathering it before going to scrub your body. He examined you as you scrubbed your body until you got to your breast once more. You scrubbed each breast leaving a soapy trail between the two. He felt his dick twitch when you took the water rinsing them slowly. "You like that honey?" he could melt hearing you call the name he loved so dearly. He felt his dick twitch once more as you squeezed shower lotion into your hand, rubbing it onto your body slowly allowing him to examine every inch of your body. Taking a bit more into your hand, he watched as you rubbed your palms together seeing them land on a boob each. You rubbed them up, down, left, and right before swirling them into circles. "Are you hard?" you asked as he nodded his head frantically. "Show me." he was quick to lock the door to the room he was in, quickly shaking off his clothes allowing you to see his hardened dick. Precum was already leaking at the head, rolling slowly down the shaft. "You're so big, I miss you baby. I miss having you inside of me." his ear turned red, dick twitching once more. He began slowly stroking his dick, eyes fixated on the screen not taking his eyes off of you. His thumb circled at the head, gathering the precum and using it as lube to set a good pace. "Good boy." he stroked faster watching as you fiddled with your breast, fingers pinching at your nipples making them temporarily engorged. "Ah-ah Im gonna cum" he stroked rapidly chasing his own high. "Wanna cum on your tits or f-fuck on your face" his chest heaved feeling his balls tighten. "Fuck!" he let out a low moan feeling his cum shoot up onto his own hand. He heard the water turn off, "Let's make that happen when you get back."

✰ Sukuna Ryomen

"Don't tell me you're about to cum already"

His smug smirk flashed across your phone screen as he played with the toggles to the vibrating dildo he had gifted you before he left. Although he was far away, he was able to control the device no matter the region of the world he was in. He wanted as your body shook, hands gripping the sheets as he pressed the number 2 causing you to let out a loud moan. "Come on that's only the second setting, I know you can hold out longer than that." he laid back, back resting on the headboard watching as your body twitched from the purple toy pulsating in you. He shook his own pants off, grabbing at his own dick that had hardened quite some time ago. Skipping a setting, he pressed the number five watching as your legs began trembling nearly causing the tory to fall out. "Stay still, you don't want to get punished when I get back" he hummed "Now spread your legs and let me see the mess that you've made with your pussy." You sigh as your wobbly legs separate from one another allowing him to see the pool of arousal you laid in. You had yet to cum, yet the toy was glistening with your juices that had run down your leg, onto the red sheets of the bed creating a puddle. He went back to the app, pressing on the special feature he hadn't told you about. You squealed in pleasure as the toy began vibrating along your clit. "Kuna I can't, I can't Im gonna cum." you moaned out back arching, his wiggling along with the toy. "You don't cum until I say cum. What a needy bitch only thinking with your pussy." he scoffed jerking his own dick at your moans, unknowingly to you. "Kuna I-" he heard your sigh immediately looking at the phone watching as you orgasmed around the toy, eyebrows furrowed in mild satisfaction. "I told you not to cum, I'm leaving the mission early expecting to be punished. Im going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for months and you better not fucking cum." he angrily disconnected the video call.

[valentine-cafe]

Can I please get a macchiato? [amab reader]

thinking about buying alessio a cute pair of lace lingere and him getting all shy while getting fucked in it...mmm...

˖⁺. “ dolled-up, filled-up ! ” : 

﹙ top male reader x bttm mercenary antihero bf ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . alessio 781 x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ mercenary ˖ antihero ˖ bad boy esque ˖ enigma  character ﹚

he's always been so cocky and yet now that you have him all dolled up and pretty - he's getting shy. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ lingerie ˖ edging ˖ penetrative sex ˖ nipple play ˖ rough sex ˖ hand job ˖ creampie ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ mirror sex | wc : 2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: whoever requested this I am giving you my first born child !! top that top! DOM THAT DOM!

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Leather is his signature, and yet lace makes him a masterpiece.

Your hands trail over the canvas. Eager to touch. Grip. Feel him. Dig you nails in and create beautiful red lines over his fair, olive skin.

“Such a pretty boy. . .” your croon to his ear is met with a low grunt. Nothing of contempt. The pink on his helix told you all that you needed to know. The shivers that vibrated against your palms too. And those emerald eyes staring back at you from the mirror he faces? Oh, they spoke thousands.

The black lace feels perfect against his skin. Looks even better on him. Both in reality and reflection. You run your fingers over his hips and trace them to his thighs. Trailing them into the slip of the garter you simply had to buy with. You stretch it away from his skin - before allowing it to smack back into his muscular thigh.

You nurse the noise that he makes. Your hand quickly slips between his legs and palms at his leaking cock. Slow. Purposeful. Easing that perfect sound into a long-winded whimper.

“Querido. . .”

“I know baby. I know.”

Your free hand finds his jaw. Tightens and yanks so that he stares at the beautiful piece of art your eyes hungrily rove over. “Look at yourself. Watch as I do this to you, Alessio.”

His name on your lips always has him elated, but this made him dizzy. Makes him weakly buck up into your hand that devilishly strokes along his pulsing nerves. You make sure to shove the soft fabric off so that you an see the way his tip throbs. Pink and begging for your thumb to swirl around mercilessly.

You wet your lips at the curve that his back takes. Your hips keenly following by grinding your wet dick up against his ass. Wanting another go at fucking him raw.

“Need this baby?” Your hiss elicits a whine. With a rough shake of your hand on his jaw - you shove your thumb past his lips and roughly pad down on his tongue.

“Said fucking watch yourself.”

His eyes flutter at the rough treatment. If only to cross when you slip back in. Your groan mixes with his series of moans and you buck your hips up to sink further into his tight rim. It mattered not how much he took your cock. He always clamps like a needy little slut.

Instead of the harsh skin-slapping that filled the room prior, you bite on your tongue and force your thrusts to slow. Ease your dick into his gummy walls. Retreat. Fill again. Till your balls tap at his ass gently and he’s whining about you being deep.

Or going slow. You’re not sure yet.

“That feel good baby? Yeah?” Huffs meet his ear. You stutter your hips against the plush of his ass and grin at the moans that fall from him. His large hands grip at the edges of the mirror and he bends slightly. Steering his hips back into your cock and giving you the perfect angle to bury your hand into his messy black hair.

You so desperately want to fuck him until he’s drooling again. Have him bounce on your cock so you paint his insides and thighs white. But this time you want to adore the lace on him. Trail your fingers over the black fabric and feel the way it frames his body so perfectly. Enhancing some of the beauty spots along his sides. Riding up his waist with each thrust back into you. An invite to grip and yank him back against you, if you do say so yourself.

“So gorgeous. God. Do you have any idea?”

He whines at you. You just so manage to hear the low mutter. The soft shut up. So you curl your fingers into his tousled strands and jerk his face to the mirror properly again. Resuming your harsh treatment with hard. Yet slow thrusts. So that at the very least his plush flesh claps with each smack of your hips. Tempered. Punishing.

“Oh no. You’re not getting away from this.” You grunt through clenched teeth. Just like he’s clenching around your dick. Begging to be filled again most probably. As though your slick isn’t still staining his thighs from earlier. “You’re gonna watch. Gonna see what a pretty lil’ toy you are for me.”

The restraint bubbles away. You start fucking him a bit faster. The wet squelching fills the room quicker. So do his moans that catch in his throat or whine out when his mouth falls open and his face scrunches up.

“A-Am - Am - hhh - or fuck -!”

“Say it. Fucking say it.”

The growl comes from deep with you. Rough like the way you start humping his ass. The way you start slamming at an angle - against that one bundle. So that Alessio can’t even buck back into you properly. All he can do is take it. Like he’s good for; in that pretty lingerie of his.

Your mouth finds his ear. Clamping teeth as you speed your thrusts. Cramming your hips into his and using another hand to shove his legs together. So that he’s squished, pressured — all the more to add to the intensity. “Want you to say you’re a pretty little toy. Pretty little whore.”

“I-I - I-hhh - m- ah! Fuck - po-por f-ffff-fuck please-”

The whining caught in his throat is so endearing. You bark a breathless laugh into his ear and yank him back. Stumbling through your bedroom floor and shoving the mercenary onto the bed. Hands gripping at his forearms as you squish him onto his stomach. Rail him from behind until tears squeeze out of his emerald eyes and his moans turn into drooling words.

You know how stubborn he is. Know that you have to force compliments down his throat. The same way your forcing your dick into his thigh ass. Mercilessly slapping. Addicted to the lewd sounds of his ever-taking hole. The slop of your cum all over his thighs. His own on his abdomen. The sheets.

It’s such a mess. And still - he’s the most beautiful thing that you’ve seen. Something you are ready to drill into his head. Even if it takes all night of you pulling and twisting him. Fucking him full so that he’s crying. He’ll repeat your words. Even if he has to sob it while you are pounding him ball-deep.

“A-Am- Amoor-ciiitttooo -! No - N-No puedo -” ( “I can’t-” )

Liar. He always could. He proves it with the way that his little hole spasms around you when you shove him onto his back and bully your way back into him. Fucking every inch in until he’s stuffed full and arching because of it.

“Yes you - hah - yes you can baby. You can. Look at me.”

Your hand reaches down to caress his tear-stained face. You abruptly slam into him. Cram your hips against his and jostle him further up the sheets. Wrecking the bed like you’re wrecking his trembling body. This position allows you to see just how much he’s creamed himself all over. The sticky substance clings onto the material pooling around his waist.

The sight has you groaning. Your hips stutter to shallow. Fuck him full repeatedly while also grinding into that spot hat has his eyes threatening to roll back again.

Your hand takes a quick detour to roughly tug at the trap of the lingerie. Gentleness be damned. You’ll buy him a new one. Buy him five. Ten - as many as he wants. Anything if it meant getting him to squirm beneath you like this.

Skilled fingers brush the fabric away and you give one of your favourite parts of him some love. Tugging at his nipple piercings before hurling a small wad of spit. So that you can swirl your thumb around the sensitive bud and watch as he crumbles even more.

Your name on his lips is so broken. So pitiful. You simple have to dip your head down and suck on his nipples. All while your hips make bruises on his. Pounding his poor little ass into the sheets until he’s crying out all sorts of phrases in his mother-tongues you can’t eve decipher.

“N-No p-pueeedddoo! D-Dios - ah- Por dios - e-es t-aaan profundo -hngh!” ( “I can’t - oh god - it’s too deep.” )

As if you knew what he was saying, you try to bury yourself deeper. Grip at his thighs and fuck into him with your own desperation. A desperation to claim. To pleasure. To remind. You force yourself away from his nipples slathered in your saliva to instead crane your head over his. Shut your eyes, crease your brows and focus all your strength into fucking his poor hole raw.

“Goood baby I - hngh - fuuckk you’re too fuckin’ pretty -”

His moans sound odd suddenly. You let your gaze fall to investigate. If only to be met with the sight of his head flicked to the side. The back of his knuckles covering the lower half of his face. The mere gesture warms your hearts — to think. The cocky bastard. Your flirty charmer of a boyfriend. Shy over being called pretty and fucked in a lingerie.

It’s such a pitiful sight. Such an endearing one. Your hand returns to brush some of his messy strands back. Before clicking your tongue and drawing out your thrusts again. Slowing them so that you might piston him in that way that shakes his body and slams the headboard into the wall.

“Did I say you could do that?” You snatch his wrist and pin it firmly. Giving a harsh squeeze to remind it to stay there. Before you reach up to cup at Alessio’s reddened face. So that you might tilt it up and pour your loving gaze down into his teary ones.

“You still haven’t said it. Please. Baby please.”

Your pleading combined with your thrusts shallowing once more. Rolling and fucking him just right. There was no denying you this time. Not when you looked down at him as though he was every star in the fucking universe.

“I-I’m - I hah -”

“You can do it. Come on. Say you’re my pretty boy.”

To motivate, your slip a grip under his thigh so that you can toss his leg over your shoulder. Invade his space further. Bring your warm bodies together so that you can make him cum again. You’re not sure how long you might last either. But one thing’s for sure. You’re using his body through the night.

His teary eyes meet yours. His hand weakly reaches to cling onto your bicep - and at last, he rasps out in a trembling voice: “I’m . . . I-I’mmm - fuck -” he gasps at your little spank to his ass.

“I’m your pretty - your p-pretty boy youur prettyy boy - ah!”

You have to reward him by cramming your hips into his. Snatch at his cock and pump him until he’s creaming all over again. The sobs that leave his lips as he tosses his head back into the sheets makes all the strain in your muscles worth it.

No - the sight of him laying there. In that black lingerie that has nothing on his beauty - taking it like your good, pretty boy. That is what makes everything worth it.

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭