#i got a bats playlist too

[sophiethewitch1]

www has a playlist? Please where can I find it😭

This link here is the mini playlist which is condensed and has like songs that I 100% have a reason for having on there and most of the songs where explained if they didn't have extremeee spoilers over on and this link here. here is the full playlist which I use personally (which you can tell because it has 1601 listens to it insert that one war veteran staring into camera meme here) but some of the songs are only like slightly associated.

[yundeob]

the parent trap | KHJ

part 1 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: exes to lovers!au, divorced!au

☆ pairing: producer!hongjoong x designer!reader, dad!joong x mom!reader

☆ warnings: nsfw (mdni), swearing, mentions of food, mentions of food poisoning, female desc. reader, drinking, suggestiveness, smut, slight!breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), overstim, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!) nipple play, titty sucking, marking, praise, slightdom!joong, blond!joong bc that itself is too much for me, mentions of (early) pregnancy, you’re both in your early thirties and make an unbelievably stubborn couple in this!

☆ synopsis: AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

☆ word count: 18.1k

☆ playlist: soulful strut by young-holt unlimited, l-o-v-e by nat king cole, just the way you are by billy joel, slipping through my fingers by abba, this will be (an everlasting love) by natalie cole

☆ a/n: it’s finally here. I can’t believe I’m writing this and saying it’s finally here oh my goodness. first off, thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has supported me with the series so far (shoutout to @kitten4sannie , @byuntrash101 and especially @desirehorizon for being amazing!) everyone’s sweet comments have been greatly appreciated, and I just hope this silly little fic brings a smile to your everyday lives.

ty for making writing worth it as a writer. now cue the opening credits!

“ABSOLUTELY NOT” Hongjoong says.

“But dadd,” she whines, clutching the wrinkled pamphlet closer to her chest. Eunseo’s small hands are covered in purple doodles her sister drew using a glitter pen. 

“Why not?” the girl complains, shrugging her shoulders. 

He sighs, pushing his glasses up with one hand as he continues typing away at the important document the producing company sent him on his laptop. He tries his best to reason with the child.

“Because, baby…” pausing to think for a moment before responding. “It would be hard for your mom and I to find a time that fits into our schedules. I’ve got work, and she must be busy as well.” 

Eunseo glares at her father’s excuse. 

Okay, yeah, the man knows it’s somewhat of a lie, himself. 

She continues to protest by shoving the advertising pamphlet in her dads face and blocking his view of the screen. Thankfully, Hongjoong is used to these sort of work distractions, expertly avoiding her by craning his neck sideways and continuing to type away.

“But dad, it’s an amazing cottage resort! They’ve got a lake where you can go swimming in, a forest hiking trail, a bonfire to roast marshmallows and even a diner less than fifteen minutes away! So if you end up burning the camp food like last time, we can just order and eat in! Isn’t that great?” She beams. 

He stops typing for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he gives his first born a look that makes her immediately break into a sweet smile, batting her lashes and flashing him a look of innocence. 

“Please?” She begs, standing on the edge of her feet as she gazes up at him. “The last time we went was when Eunbyul and me were toddlers.” 

And how on earth could any dad’s heart not melt at the sight of his daughter trying to convince him about one harmless vacation? 

Hongjoong wheels his office chair back, turning so he could look her in the eyes properly and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. 

“Listen honey, I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but…” he trails off, looking back at the open tabs and file documents displayed on his computer.

Turning his head around and upon seeing a frown form on his daughter's face, he quickly reassures her. 

“Once you finish your final piano recital tomorrow and your mom picks your sister up to take her to her hockey game, how about we go fishing the weekend afterwards?” he suggests, brows raising. “That’ll mean I have just the two of you all to myself.”

Eunseo mumbles under her breath, quiet but insistent enough that he catches it. 

“But we’re supposed to be a family of four.” 

She sulks, thinking of how that would leave you, her mother, left out of their plans. The arms holding the pamphlet up, ultimately fall down in defeat. 

He places a peck on her forehead, patting her on the back. “You know, if you can get your mom to say yes, then I’ll think about it” he chuckles, knowing the highly unlikely probability of the event.

Adjusting his glasses, the producer goes back to his work, peeking his daughter slugging away from the corner of his eye. 

Eunseo slumps her shoulders in defeat as she walks out of her dads office, turning the corner to see her twin sister, Eunbyeol, pressing her ears near the door with her neck outstretched. Clearly she’s been caught in the middle of trying to overhear their conversation. 

The twin younger by fifteen seconds quickly rushes over, waiting expectantly.

“So? What did dad say?”

Eunseo exhales, throwing the information pamphlet away on the wooden floors and slumping against the living room couch. 

“He’s totally not buggin. Said he wants to take us fishing next weekend instead. Just us three.” she grumbles. 

Eunbyeol scrunches her nose at the idea. 

“But dad sucks at fishing.”

Her sister groans, kicking her small feet against the couch in frustration. “I know!” Eunbyeol starts to worry, coming to sit beside her.

“Then how on earth are we going to get mom and dad to get back with each other again? They haven’t been in the same room since we were like, five!”

Her twin sister scoffs, “First, we gotta get them to have a proper conversation with each other. They barely even talk when they drop us off at each other's houses.”

Nobody truly knows why you and Hongjoong had divorced so suddenly when the girls were young. Not even themselves.

All they were used to were cold stares and one word replies shared amongst their parents, refusing to find harmony in their co-parenting.

Frankly, your girls have had enough of the performance you were both trying to maintain, looking past your expressions to realize you and your husband still held feelings for the other. It was only a matter of time and place in order to set you two up together, thus, the idea of an intimate, family getaway came into their minds. 

After a few moments of letting her words hang in the air, Eunbyeol’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

“That’s it!”

The older twin looks up quizzically, watching her sister jump off the couch and gaze at her excitedly. 

“We’ll just have to force them to meet each other! We can always guilt trip them for dropping us off at their houses and making us play alone!”

Eunseo rolls her eyes at the idea. “Right, and how are we going to do that dummy? The only reason they’d do that, was if it was an emergency.”

Whoever said twin telepathy wasn’t a thing was a liar, because the second Eunseo catches onto what her sister is saying, the twins share a look of pure mischievousness, the gears in their brains working together as one. 

With hushed whispers and quiet giggles, the twins immediately begin conducting their plan in secrecy near the corner of the living room, backs turned and in the middle of discussion when Hongjoong walks out of his office with an empty coffee mug. 

“What are you guys doing over there?”

“Leave us alone! Family man traitor!” Eunbyeol shouts, holding a slightly hostile grudge to her father before turning back to whisper to her twin. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, sighing as he heads into the kitchen. 

“Then it’s perfect! I’ll stay here with dad once my piano recital is over, and then when Mom picks you up for your hockey game tomorrow, we’ll try convincing them together!”

Eunbyeol nods her head in agreement, eyes lighting up with excitement as she whispers in a hushed tone. 

“And once both events end, we’ll pretend to be so sick that they have to take us to the nearby hospital.”

The other twin smirks. ”Where we’ll end up guilt tripping them into taking us to the cottage.”

They double high five in victory at their flawless plan, already waiting for tomorrow to come as soon as possible.

“A summer cottage?” you repeated, brows raising at the idea as you made a left turn onto your street. 

Eunbyeol nods eagerly from the back seat after getting picked up, having ranted on and on about the ad in the pamphlet since the moment you saw her.

“It's an amazing establishment mom,” She boasts, making you laugh at her words while parking the car and unbuckling your seatbelt.

“They have everything you could possibly think of!”

“Oh, really?” You say skeptically, opening the door for her. 

Eunbyeol is lost in the middle of passionately describing all the relaxing activities you could do by yourself, or rather per se, with a special partner together. 

“There’s couples hiking retreats, couples canoeing, couples yoga… did I mention couples hiking retreats?” She confuses, retracing her words. 

You roll your eyes and smile, keys jangling as you walk through the entrance of your apartment flat while balancing the bags and items in your hands.

Being a wedding dress designer and yet picking up your daughter from your ex-husband's house could’ve been ironic to some people. But after having split with Hongjoong since the girls were so young, you came to grow fond of having some independence as a divorcee, channeling your main focus into setting up your own bridal shop downtown.

It was through that hard work and focus that you did it all by yourself with no additional help.

You’d be lying if you said you haven't opened a bottle of red wine some nights due to loneliness as a divorced single mother, but at least that was what you had your daughters for.

You made sure to work just as hard as you did enjoy playing and spending time with them. After all, they were the light of your life and purpose for living.

Balancing the pizza you picked up on the way home, you set it down on the kitchen island, telling Eunbyeol to go wash her hands in the sink. The girl doesn’t stop ranting.

“There’s usually only two rooms in the cottage, so you’ll have to sleep together with dad, but I guess you won't mind, would you? After all, you were once married” She rolls her eyes, reaching for the soap.

You shake your head with a sigh. ”What is up with you and getting me and your father together in the same room?” you muttered as you took out the plates and utensils. 

Eunbyeol eventually walks back to you, wiping her hands on her baggy jeans before sitting on the kitchen stool. 

“It’s not that I’m obsessed, Mom. Actually, Eunseo and I are just dying to get away this summer now that school is over.”

Turning around from plating the pizza and salad, you chastise your daughter, telling her to sit with her bum flat on the stool so she doesn’t fall. She immediately listens, carrying on with her persuasion. 

“We just want you and dad to get the chance to relax as well, that’s all!” her mouth full from a bite of hot, greasy pizza. 

You smile, wiping your washed hands on the kitchen towel and coming over to wrap your arms around her affectionately. 

“Spending time with you and Eunseo every week is how I relax,” you assured her, smothering your baby with kisses on her cheek.

Byeol lets out a squeal of annoyance, taking another bite of her pizza. “You’re squishing me!” She tries hiding her smile, failing when you lean in closer. 

You pull back in laughter, ruffling her hair as you walk away while reminding her.

“Oh! Don’t forget you’ve got your hockey game tonight!”

Byeol chews faster, munching on the soft crust and counting down the hours on the kitchen clock. 

She smiles to herself. 

“Don’t worry, I know!”

“What do you mean you need to go to the hospital?” Hongjoong asks in a worried voice, standing against the women’s washroom stall. He holds Eunseo’s congratulatory flower bouquet for first place in hand, feeling the stares of multiple women passing by, clearly judging him for being in the ladies room with them. 

“Honey, is everything all right?” He asks worriedly. A string of groans come from behind the door.

“You need to leave!” one old lady thrusts her walking cane at the father, lips pursed in dissatisfaction. 

Eunseo did such a phenomenal job tonight for her piano recital, that Hongjoong was shocked to see his daughter clutch her stomach first thing after running down the steps of the stage, dashing to the washrooms.

He whips his head back. “My daughter’s having a bit of a situation in here, okay miss? Have a bit of understanding!” He barks frustratedly out loud to the onlookers before speaking softly back to the stall door. 

“Eunseo, baby, talk to me, is everything alright in there? Are you sure you need to go to the hospital? Is it that bad?” 

The girl continues her acting performance, letting out fake groans while typing furiously on her cellphone. 

“Oh the pain! I think I might have food poisoning, dad!”

Seolie: How far along are u

Byeolie: Mom’s outside, banging to come in. 

Seolie: same, I told dad I needed to go to the hospital.

Eunseo lets out another groan of pain, causing Hongjoong to worry even more. 

“That’s it, Eunseo. Let me in and help you” he decides, searching his bag for a painkiller or at least some sort of medication for relief. 

The girl frantically checks her phone, eyes lighting up at the new message. 

Byeolie: Mom’s getting the car to take me to the hospital. I’ve got her convinced to call dad soon.

Eunseo types as fast as her small fingers can move, even faster than when she performed her piano solo from before. 

Seolie: Then what do I do????

Hongjoong gets slightly suspicious at the lack of sound coming from the stall, calling to his daughter again.

“Eunseo? Everything alright?”

At the next notification, the girl makes up her mind, getting the signal from her sister. 

Byeolie: play dead. Mom calling soon. See ya there.

The actress gets into character, gaining her composure before unlocking the washroom stall and holding her stomach as she stumbles into her dad’s surprised arms. 

“Eunseo!”

She wails, falling limp. “Oh, dad! Please! Take me to the hospital, it hurts too much!”

It’s truly a mystery which parent she got her acting skills from.

But she doesn’t have to tell him twice at that point. The man is already piggy backing his fainted daughter and sprinting out of the ladies washroom, reassuring her with soothing comments as he makes a beeline for the parking lot.

“Stay with me baby!” He huffs, unbeknownst to Eunseo who peeks one eye open. 

Only after he straps his daughter in the backseat and is turning on the engine does he receive a sudden phone call from you, pressing the speaker for the whole car to hear your panicked voice. You break the news to him first. 

“Eunbyeol’s severely sick. She fainted right after her hockey game.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “What?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “She was holding her stomach saying she ate something wrong. Is Eunseo okay?” 

Hongjoong puts the stick into drive, backing out of the parking lot and replying in a hurry.

“She’s hit with the same thing right now. I’ll meet you at the Hospital in ten” he grunts, sweat forming on his brow as he speeds through traffic, not caring if he gets a ticket. 

Had he looked in his rear view mirror, he would have seen Eunseo sagging near the car door, clutching her stomach with a small grin on her face.

You never liked the hospital. 

The sounds of babies crying and hospital beds wheeling become the background noise, shifting nervously in your seat that was in the emergency pediatrics unit waiting area. 

Hongjoong has his eyebrows furrowed, hunched over one seat beside you as he hangs his head in his hands, knees bouncing up and down. A middle aged nurse nasally calls on the next family waiting from the front desk, boredom laced in her voice. 

You sigh, uncrossing your legs and choosing to bite at the fingernail on your right hand once realizing you’ve already done the same to all the ones on your left. 

“It’s all my fault.” Hongjoong confesses, suddenly sitting still. 

You glance to your left, watching as he sits up slowly. 

“Last thing they ate together would’ve been at my house. I probably made them sick with something I fed them,” he dejects, hanging his head down in shame. 

“It’s all my fault, god I’m so stupid!” He beats himself up. 

You have half the mind to snap at your ex-husband, anger already filling up inside you earlier when you heard Eunbyeol suggest it was something she ate at her dad’s house. You really did want to yell at him for being so bad of a chef that he sent his own daughters to the emergency pediatrics unit, undeniably relieved that Seonghwa was working tonight’s shift. 

But those cruel words sitting on the tip of your tongue are thrown away when you glance down to see your ex-husband missing a shoe on one of his feet. 

Hongjoong rushed over here so fast with Eunseo that he left his shoe behind like some sort of fairytale, Cinderella. He hasn’t even realized he wasn’t wearing one right now.

You exhaled, knowing that if there's one thing you’ve learned while parenting, it was that to have patience and understanding was a virtue. Even for your ex-husband.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed, staring at your hands folded in your lap. 

It feels awkward when Hongjoong stops tugging at his blond locks to look at you in surprise, continuing to speak as you place a gentle hand on his thigh. 

“That could’ve happened to anyone. We don’t know yet if it was because of the food. Let’s just pray and wait and see” your voice being a sign of reliability to him. 

The man is a little shocked at your supportive nature to tell you truthfully. He delivers all the things he needs to say through his grateful gaze alone, reciprocating a small smile. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you guys tonight.” Seonghwa chuckles, walking in before Hongjoong has the chance to reply. He comes from the patient's room wearing his dashing, white doctor's coat. “Together, at that” he mumbles under his breath before looking up and flashing you a polite smile while giving his worried friend a soft pat on the back.

Hongjoong holds his breath when he asks: “How are they?”

“Better,” he tells him, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. “But it was a big shock to their bodies. They need some rest at the moment.” 

The pediatrician tries not to show his smile, standing in front of you and Hongjoong while hiding his expression behind his clipboard as per his niece’s request.

To be fair, if someone had told Seonghwa earlier that evening that he would receive a fifteen minute pep talk from his best friend's twin daughters that day in the emergency unit, he would’ve laughed in their faces. 

Alas, life was always filled with surprises. Here’s what went down thirty minutes earlier in the hospital room:

“We’re trying to get them back together,” Eunseo announced confidently, sitting next to her sister on the hospital bed. 

Eunbyeol nodded, eyeing the dumbfounded medical professional standing in front of them with his clipboard tucked under his arm, hands in his pockets. 

“So.. you guys don’t need an IV drip?”

“It’s this whole entire thing, Uncle Hwa, we’ll explain to you later.”

It took a minute before Seonghwa reclaimed his composure as an adult, chastising the twins for pulling a false alarm over something like this. He made sure to make them promise him they wouldn’t do something stupid like this again. But after that, of course Seonghwa is immediately pairing to help them with their plan on getting his best friend back together with his ex-wife. The man is just tired of watching Hongjoong beat himself up half the time about missing you. 

“So you essentially want me to lie about the fact that you guys don’t have food poisoning, and were just faking this whole thing so your mom and dad would have a reason to see each other.” 

The twins nod, one of them pointing out. “And make sure to tell them we’re fine of course. Maybe throw in we’re like, really sick, but that we’ll live so it’s best if we get rest.”

“At like a cottage or something” the other chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows at the hint. 

The doctor sighs, scratching his neck sheepishly. 

When Seonghwa leads you and Hongjoong into the hospital room, both of you feel awful seeing your babies laying in their beds, dressed in the children’s gowns. 

Eunbyeol peeks open her eyes first, voice hoarse (she practiced). 

“Mom? Dad? Is that you?” she groans, pretending to clutch her stomach in pain. 

Both you and Hongjoong rush to each child, grasping their hands and stroking their heads softly with sympathy. 

“Hey baby, I’m here” you coo.

“I’m so, so sorry girls, it was probably all my fault. I should’ve never cooked for you guys earlier today.” their dad cries out painfully, looking down in shame.

You come to stand beside him, reassuring them both. “But what’s important is that you guys get better now. We want to make sure you get the rest you need” you say, making eye contact with your ex-husband. 

Seonghwa clears his throat, crossing his arms as he flashes a wink to the girls behind your backs. 

“They seemed to have been mentally exhausted as well,” He asks on purpose, watching as you and Hongjoong share a look with each other. “Have they been receiving proper familial support at home?” 

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw my parents in the same room together.” Eunseo weakly admits, showing a faint smile. 

As parents, you and Joong feel the most amount of guilt anyone could ever feel. You realize how exhausting and stressful the pickups and drop offs to each other's houses could’ve been, especially when you two were so busy with your respective jobs to spend time with your daughters now that it was summer break for them. 

Hongjoong smiles, holding both their hands and making a promise to them. 

“Make sure to rest you two. Tell me, is there anything you guys need right now? Anything you guys want I'll make sure to get it for you.”

”Do you guys have crunchy ice?” Eunbyeol blurts out loud, breaking her weak facade. 

Eunseo almost wants to shoot a glare at her sister but she realizes both of you are still looking at them. 

“I can get you some ice!” Seonghwa quickly assures you and his nieces, mouthing to them good luck for support as he shuts the door behind him. 

You sigh, coming over to stroke Eunseo’s hair and caress Eunbyeol’s hand. 

“Well? Is there anything else you guys need from us?” Hongjoong states, eyes soft in sympathy. You nod, waiting to hear their response.

“Let us know girls, anything at all.”

Eunbyeol and Eunseo finally take their chance, sharing a hesitant look before speaking at the same time. 

“We want to go to the cottage”

“Together,” Eunseo says.

“As a family.” Eunbyeol adds in.

You and Hongjoong share a silent look. 

Later into the night, the twins are finally discharged from the hospital, deciding that they would stay at Hongjoong’s mothers apartment which was closest nearby, considering they were both tired and immediately needed a place to rest. 

The car ride home is awkwardly silent, even as the kids are (what you think) to be fast asleep, hockey gear and a bouquet of flowers riding with them in the backseat.

It was at their request for you to drive them to their grandmother's house, wanting both their parents with them till the ride home. Hongjoong settled on driving your car and dropping all of you off, planning to take a taxi back home and pick up his own car in the morning. Despite your protest on how inconvenient that was, he insisted as he didn’t want to disappoint the twins.

But suddenly the man begins to regret his offer, currently driving in complete silence on the highway, eyes facing forward and shoulders tense. Quiet FM nightly jazz plays from the radio. 

You’re sitting passenger seat up front with him in what feels like forever, looking solely at the reflections in the window, the street lamp lights scattering across your face as you travel through the nighttime traffic. It’s awkward being together like this.

You hear him clear his voice, speaking softly so he doesn’t wake up the girls.

“So, are we really considering that cottage retreat?” he glances back at you. 

You sit up, straightening your back and exhaling as you secretly wanted to have avoided that topic of discussion.

“We can’t Hongjoong,” you reasoned, shaking your head. “I couldn’t possibly take a whole vacation from the dress shop. Not unless I had someone take care of it for me, which my staff probably aren’t ready to do.” you explained, voice tense.

Hongjoong nodded, understanding your point of view. “I realize that. I’ve got a few projects I have to record and demo with Eden.” he tells you, an arm placed on the wheel with his sleeve rolled up. His veins become perfectly outlined as he passionately tells you about his producing job.

He’s so hot like that.

Jesus what were you thinking? Cursing your mind as you clear your voice and try to change the topic.

“How’s everything been going then?” you say stiffly. He nods, still awkward with sharing conversation with you. 

“Um, it's going good. You?” he asks.  

“Fine.” you swallow. 

Silence prevails. He’s first to speak again, building the courage to say the next thing in his mind. 

“I’m willing to put things on hold if I need to.” He confesses. 

Hongjoong continues to drive normally after having said that. Now it becomes your turn to stare at him now, watching how he glances at the side mirror, switching lanes swiftly like the pro-driver he was. 

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I think it would be good for the girls,” he admits, calling you by your name. Even hearing him call you your name feels weird. It feels foreign, like it almost wasn’t yours. 

“Hongjoong-” you warn, shaking your head at the warry possibility. 

“Just hear me out, alright?” He states firmly, making you quiet. 

He glances back into the rear view mirror, watching your girls peacefully asleep with their heads leaning against each other. 

“It’s been almost seven years. Seven years since they’ve last seen their parents speak to each other without breaking into a fight. Tonight was the first time they saw us together without having to plan a drop off and pick up in god knows how long.”

Hongjoong licks his lips, gripping the wheel as he emphasizes. “Seven years since they’ve gotten a goodnight hug and kiss from us at the same time in one place.”

You scoff, turning to face him properly this time. “I don’t know why you’re acting as though we can make this request of theirs come true Hongjoong. This is a big deal-”

“It is a big deal!” he exclaims, trying to get his point across. “I can see how badly our daughters want us to both be in their lives more, to acknowledge the fact that the other still exists after splitting apart.”

He sighs. “Us, not acknowledging each other’s existence at all is worse than if we had to see each other regularly.”

You bite your lip, getting angry. “So what Hongjoong? You’re saying you want to suddenly play family with them at the cottage?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Do you really think we can pretend to be normal parents to them without fighting like we are now? There’s a reason why our current schedules work. Don’t make me seem like the bad guy for not wanting to take them.” You glared, pointing a finger at him. His jaw locks. 

“You fully knew the lifestyle changes we would need to make as a couple when you signed those legal papers—”

“Well then did you also predict everything that happened after you brought me those papers?” He spits like venom, gaze hard as he clenches the wheel.

You blink your eyes at his words, pressing your knees together at his sudden attack. 

You don’t remember clearly if you even meant what you said at the time when you threw those papers at him seven years ago. But all you still know is that Hongjoong was just as stubborn as you were, making up his mind to sign them in the end regardless.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you muttered to him quietly. 

“Don’t raise your voice. The kids are sleeping.”

Their dad scoffs, muttering a sure, under his breath as he switches lanes. 

The kids were in fact, not sleeping, and very much awake. Eyes closed but ears wide, as they were listening in to the first real discussion their parents were having in so long. Or perhaps it was an argument?

At the right turn into his mother’s apartment’s underground parking lot, Hongjoong shuts off the engine, getting out of the car without another word and shutting the door in your face. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hear the back door open. 

You watch in the corner of your vision as his demeanor immediately changes, softly caressing Eunseo and Eunbyeol’s hair. 

“Hey girls, we’re here now. You gotta wake up.” He coos.

They yawn theatrically, pretending to stretch their arms. 

“So soon?” Eunbyeol mumbles.

A few feet ahead, you see your mother in law walking out from the elevators, a knit cardigan wrapped around her small frame. You smiled, getting out of the car and greeting her first. 

“We’ll leave Eunbyeol’s hockey gear with you for the night if that’s alright Mom-” 

Hongjoong’s words are cut off as the woman who birthed him walks straight past him, ignoring him and immediately taking you in her warm embrace, eyes forming crescent moons. 

“How are you my dear?” she asks, causing you to smile and hug your mother in law affectionately. “It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!”

Despite the break up between you and Hongjoong, you were thankful for one thing, and that was the fact that your relationship with Hongjoong’s family stayed strong, especially with Mrs. Kim.

“I’ve missed you too” you tell her genuinely. “I’ve been good, I’m just sorry for dropping them off so suddenly at your place,” You say, feeling apologetic for waking her up late into the night. 

“We had a bit of a situation,” you explain, watching as Hongjoong collects their things. 

She shakes her head, reassuring you. “Nonsense! Why would you be sorry for that.” she grins, turning her head at the car. “And where are my girls, may I ask?”

At the sound of her voice, Eunbyeol and Eunseo dash out from the back seat and into their grandmother's welcoming arms, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks.

Hongjoong is the only person that stands all alone, awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers with heavy hockey gear and a duffle bag perched on his shoulder. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed my little squirrels!” she exclaims using their signature pet name and happily reuniting with her grandchildren. 

She turns her head, face falling at the sight of her son and lips pursing into a frown. 

“And where on earth have you been? Not giving me a call!” she snaps, slapping her son on his back. Eunbyeol laughs out loud while Eunseo tries to keep her giggles in. 

You hear your ex husband protest to her while you close the back seat door. 

“OW! I’ve been busy alright?” he mumbles, massaging his sore arm. 

Your mother in law takes both the twins hand’s on each side, nodding her head to you. 

“Leave all the kid’s stuff to Hongjoong, he’ll take care of it darling” she smiles sweetly, sending a glare to her son to take a hint and be more of a gentleman to you. She walks away with her smiling granddaughters, exchanging light-hearted giggles and excitement. “Bye, mom!” The twins wave back. 

Hongjoong cranes his head up, sighing at the ceiling before taking Eunseo’s piano bag that you were holding in your hand in one swift motion, walking reluctantly behind the three. 

“Stay here. I’ll drop them off.” he briskly walks away, leaving you stunned. 

Hongjoongs words from before can’t help but replay inside your head as you wait for him to come back down. 

Before you guessed it, it was already the ride back home, and the car was painfully silent once again. In reality, you were each thinking deeply to yourselves about the possibility of the cottage retreat. Could you really be a mom and dad together as a couple to your kids?

“Are you giving your plants enough water?” He brings you out of thought, the car slowing down as he turns onto your street. 

You look up, giving him a confused look. 

Hongjoong nods in direction, following his eyes to look at the measly, dying flower pot perched on the steps of your flat’s entrance as the car stopped to a halt. “You know, it’s really hard for plants to die when they’re outside.” He says in amazement at your shit gardening. 

You scowl at him, asking him when he became such a plant expert all of a sudden. 

He continues to poke fun at you, smirking when he undoes his seat belt. Hongjoong suddenly leans over to help you unbuckle your own, face dangerously close to yours as he lowers his voice. 

“Unless their owner just really sucks at taking care of them.” 

His eyes gaze into yours for a split second, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. You let out a tiny gasp for air when he leans back in his own seat. 

“Fuck off” you replied harshly. 

“You should give them some more care,” he suggests, ignoring your swearing. 

You don’t reply to his stupid comment, refusing to look at him as you get out of the car. 

“I can go in by myself” you press, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder. You didn’t think it was necessary to draw out your time with this man any further.

Hongjoong straightens his dress shirt as he moves to your side of the car, shoving his own car keys in his trousers as he locks your doors and hands over the keys. You take them hesitantly, watching as he rests against the car door, strong arms crossing against his chest. 

“Think about it at least.” he mutters to you. 

You look at him, eyes shutting softly when you realize he was still talking about the cottage getaway. Sighing his name is exasperation, you run a hand through your hair. 

“Hongjoong-”

“Would it kill you to spend a week with me and our daughters?” He scoffs as he asks you straight up, looking at you in a way that makes you hesitate to say your next words. You observed one hand come to shuffle with the silver lighter in his trouser pockets. 

You stayed silent for a moment, genuinely thinking back to your daughters and what this meant to them if you went. What this would mean for you two as well. 

Finally, you look up to him, returning his gaze.

“I need time.” 

He nods, face serious. “I understand.”

“Let me think about it.” You mumbled. 

And with that you turn around, walking up the steps to your front door. At the sight of your flowerpot, you quickly remember his comment and snatch it in your hands, slamming the door shut to Hongjoong as he finally lets a soft grin break out on his face. Letting his back come up from leaning against the door, Hongjoong nods his head, satisfied enough at that answer, as he walks silently down the road while opening his Uber app. 

At least you’d give it some thought. 

Okay, maybe now you’ve given it too much thought. 

Sipping your fifth glass of wine of the night, you’re sitting, back hunched over with your knees tucked into your chest on the breakfast table chair, zoning out as your best friend Sophie continues barking at you and your inconsistent commitment. 

“I don’t even understand why you’re considering going! Does the man realize what it takes to leave your own shop for a full week?” she fumes, adjusting her royal jelly sheet mask while cursing at your ex-husband for pressuring you into going to the family retreat. 

“Not everyone can just pack their bags and go swimming at the cottage, Jesus Christ” she rolls her eyes. 

“He didn’t pressure me,” you told her pouting. “He wants to do it for the kids” you mumbled looking down as you defended him. 

You invited your best friend Sophie over to your apartment that evening for your weekly slumber party, a time you each looked forward to dedicating a bottle of wine and chardonnay over some gossip, spilling all the uneventful drama in your lives. 

Perhaps you revealed too much drama to your best friend tonight. 

“I don’t think I would mind going, to be honest” you hiccup, words slurring. “I haven’t had a vacation in so long, Sophie, and the girls really want to go! I would feel bad for leaving them with nothing to do this summer.” confessing through the alcohol. 

Cheeks flushed, you sigh as you play with your silk robe mindlessly while Sophie shakes her head at you, one hand coming up to snap at you and bring you back to reality. 

“Hello? Earth to Ms. Divorcee?” She sighs, rolling her eyes in frustration. “You said you wanted to set boundaries with him! To cut the line straight and keep your distance so you could get over your feelings for him! Show him who’s boss!” 

“He said he’s willing to put his music projects on hold for us,” you muttered quietly, the thought making your heart weak as you smiled at the memory of Hongjoong teasing you about your flower pot. Your chest blossomed with warmth now. 

Sophie sighs, shaking her head as she thinks just how differently you were feeling four wine glasses ago.

“Listen, honey, I’m just warning you in advance” she sips the golden liquid in her glass before placing it on the table. 

“Take it from a girl who’s had three divorces. I mean look at me! I’m still somewhat young, I’ve got no kids, no responsibilities, filthily rich, and not once have I had to pay for my own divorce settlement fees!” 

You nod mindlessly, eyes blinking softly under the bright kitchen lights. 

“What you need is a provider, sweetheart,” she crooned, caressing your head. 

“A guy who won’t leave you stressed and unimpressed like Hongjoong does.”

You continue mindlessly nodding your head at her words, ears perking up when you hear small footsteps come down the stairs. 

“Hi mom, Hi aunt Sophie.” Eunbyeol greets, eyes glued to her iPad that Eunseo trails after from behind, whining how it was now her turn to play Super Mario.  

“Hi girls,” Sophie replies like the cool, hot aunt she is, eyes shut as she’s concentrating on giving herself a collarbone massage right now. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you mumbled, smiling at your daughters standing near the fridge getting a glass of water. 

“Say, did your dad tell you guys anything about the cottage?” You blurt out loud, avoiding the look that Sophie gives you. Eunbyeol looks up from the glowing screen, ears perking in interest. “No, not much, why?” 

Eunseo snatches the iPad from her twin, coming over to you. “Did Dad say we’re going?” She asks enthusiastically, eyes widening. Sophie is quick to assure them. 

“Now of course not girls, your mother here was just-”

“Oh fuck it, why not?” you say confidentially, shining a bright smile. “Let’s go to the cottage!” You exclaimed in drunk excitement, all three girls staring at you with their jaws hanging at your sudden profanity as well as your final decision. 

Oh, how dangerous the effects of a bottle of wine were. 

Eunseo and Eunbyeol immediately embrace each other in a passionate hug, squealing in excitement that their plan actually worked. You and Hongjoong were now both convinced. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to go as a family!” They cried in happiness. You giggled at their joy, reciprocating their enthusiasm.  

Sophie leans back in her seat defeated, shaking her head with pursed lips as she picks up the whole Chardonnay bottle and sips it. 

“Oh whatever. . . This isn’t my problem anyways.” 

When Hongjoong drops by the next morning to pick up Eunbyeol and Eunseo from your house for the weekend, he can’t lie but be a little heartbroken at the way his daughters ignore his kiss to them first thing. They instead, immediately shove the cottage advertising pamphlet in his face with victorious grins. 

“See! We told you mom would say yes!” 

“Say yes to what?” He pouts, avoiding the paper and obsessively trying to peck a kiss to each of his daughter's cheeks. The idea of going to the cottage almost slipped the busy man’s mind after almost a week of no news from you. 

“What’s so important that you guys don’t even say hi to me anymore?” he sulks.

Eunseo giggles, fighting back her laughter when her dad tries to tickle her with his kisses. 

“We’re going to the cottage!”

Hongjoong stills himself, leaning back to make sure he heard her correctly. 

“We’re what?”

Eunbyeol, taking after her mother, has a cheeky expression on her face as she places her hands on her hips and sasses her father. 

“Pack your bags and swimming shorts, daddy, we’re going on a family vacation!” 

In perfect timing, you manage to stumble out your front door, coffee mug in hand and mid-yawn when you realize Hongjoong is already staring at you in shock. 

“What?” you snap, still grumpy from your slight hangover. “You’ve never seen a woman wake up before?” You replied, asking your kids if they packed all their stuff. 

The twins watch as their dad stands up from his crouched position. 

“You’re going to go to the cottage?”

At Hongjoongs words you freeze, everything coming back to you all at once. The wine, the twins, the promises, it hits you like a moving truck. 

“Well…”

“No take backs mom! You said it yourself last night that you were excited to go to the cottage!” One of the twins pointed out. 

Hongjoong doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” You chuckled sheepishly, toes curling at the rookie mistake you made in parenting 101: saying yes when you should’ve said no. 

Your ex-husband quickly tells the kids to put their things in the trunk, promising he’ll be right with them after talking to you. As Hongjoong dashes up the stairs in his white polo golf shirt, you feel slightly exposed being in only your silk slip dress and robe. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here so early” you mumbled, looking down at your toes. 

He ignores you. “So I’m guessing we’re going then?” He smirks, looking at you with an expression of undeniable cockiness and peaked interest. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Let’s surround the focus of this trip towards the kids” you remind him, straightening your back.

Hongjoong nods, agreeing with you wholeheartedly. “Of course, that was my intention from the beginning,” he smiles. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, unnoticing his stare drop at your breasts perking up from the cool morning air. You jump in surprise as you hear the honking of the car. 

“Come on, love birds! We gotta go back to dad’s to get our swimming stuff!” Eunbyeol cackles, leaning from the backseat into the driver's seat window. Eunseo already begins journaling in her hello kitty note book, an organized list of what she’ll need to bring to the cottage.

Hongjoong looks back at his daughters, before looking back at you with a smile. 

“Let’s keep in touch about details, alright?”

You nod silently, gripping your mug. At the sound of your nextdoor neighbor coming out, Hongjoong contemplates for a moment before quickly leaning forward, shielding you from their view with his backside. Clearing his throat, Hongjoong nods his head to the inside of your house, leaning forward to whisper to you. 

“Think, um, you should get inside, it’s getting cold,” he mutters, his dimples faintly showing. You glare up at him, “I’m going to say goodbye to my own daughters”. Still clueless to what he was referring to. He grins, shrugging his shoulders before looking at you. 

“If you insist. Just thought you wouldn’t want your neighbor to see what I can see, would you?”

You gasp at his words, looking down at your chest to see what he means before wrapping your robe around you. You quickly waved goodbye to your girls before you shut the door in Hongjoong’s smug face. 

It’s now become the second time you’ve done that.

Thankfully, the next time you see Hongjoong you’re wearing a much more appropriate outfit. In a white cotton blouse and casual jean shorts, your effortlessly chic vacation outfit was the only highlight today, considering the day you had been internally dreading for so long was finally here. 

You tried to take deep breaths while scurrying all over your house and finishing some last minute packing. Reassuring yourself that a family getaway couldn’t kill you. 

Right?

Reservations at the cottage were made over the phone last week, booking a house with the perfect lake side view, access to the forest trail and close proximity to the offered activities. It would only be a seven day stay, both in your respective rooms, (you clearly emphasized you and Hongjoong had to have separate ones) while the twins would lodge together. You had no intention of interacting with your husband alone together on this trip, apart from the quote on quote, ‘family bonding times’ you promised your daughters. And yet why were you here sweating nervously like a sinner in church?

“What a hot lady!” Eunbyeol wolf-whistles at your outfit when she walks through your bedroom doors. You jump at the sudden entrance, realizing Hongjoong was already here to pick you up with the girls.

A pair of black designer sunglasses slightly too big for her sat perched on her nose. Eunbyeol smiles before jumping onto your bed of clothes. You already know Hongjoong must’ve spoiled her and her sister with those, buying them a pair each.

“C’mon Byeol, off the bed” you quipped, packing your toothbrush as she reluctantly slugged off the covers. 

Your suspicions of Hongjoong buying them designer items are correct when Eunseo walks in, classily perching her matching white ones on her head before chastising her sister's tasteless compliment. 

“Elegant. She’s Elegant, Byeol. You don’t just go around wolf-whistling at people.” she rolls her eyes. 

“You look very pretty by the way, mom”

You smiled, nevertheless pleased at both their compliments and thanking them before going back to doing a last minute check of your things. 

Sun cream, clothes, makeup bag, swimsuit…

At the thought of your swimsuit you immediately blush, thinking back to how Sophie forced you to borrow her yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination. Despite your protests that you wouldn’t be needing it, she insisted. 

Hongjoong is last to walk through your front doors, swinging his car keys around his index finger and calling to his three girls from the downstairs foyer of your apartment. The man is clearly excited for the trip, he can’t lie. 

“Come on ladies, we’re gonna miss the chance to swim in that lake if we don't leave soon!” 

Hongjoong is your typical dad, except for the fact that he does not mess with dad!fashion. The producer is dressed classily from top to bottom in a loose-fitting designer button up with a pair of reformed denim pants, his pearl earrings and gold piercings complementing his outfit perfectly. 

Kim Hongjoong didn't play when it came to fashion. Even as a father. 

“Coming!” You exclaimed, ushering your kids out of your bedroom and making your way down the stairs with your suitcase. Seeing that it would only be a week at the cottage, you tried to pack light, though you may have to reconsider that thought with the way you struggled to lift the case properly. 

“Need some help?”

A strong hand comes to help you, immediately inhaling the scent of Hongjoong’s cologne as he brushes his knuckles near yours. “Here, I’ve got it” he assures, making you step back and admire your undeniably fine husband. 

Ex-husband. You meant Ex-husband. Scratch out the fine as well. 

You watch from behind as he struts out the foyer, smiling and joking playfully with his twin daughters, carrying your luggage out the door with them. 

What was this trip doing to you?

Once you’re on route to the cottage resort and the GPS is set, the car is blissfully quiet, each and every one of you surprisingly at peace. Jittery excitement still lays deep in your daughters' minds as you overhear them talk about what they want to do first once they arrive. 

Hongjoong’s 2000s soft rock and ballad playlist is playing quietly throughout the speakers right now, relishing in the music as luscious, green trees flash by you from the passenger window. 

While Byeol and Eunseo distract each other on their own, Hongjoong turns to talk to you. 

“I’m not going to lie, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a road trip” he smiles.

You copy him, feeling good in the moment. “Same, I don’t remember the last time I went to one.” you confessed, thinking only of all the times you had in the past when you were a child and as a teenager. 

Even back to when you were a young college student, wide eyed and so innocent to the chaos of your first college retreat with Hongjoong. That was the summer you two began dating, and boy were you fools in love. You cautiously look to your husband driving, bringing up past memories.

“Do you remember that one college retreat we went on during second year?” 

The corners of Hongjoong’s lips are already grinning upwards, smiling as he reciprocates your expression. 

“Right, like I could forget that summer” he replies sarcastically, gripping the steering wheel. 

It’s an easy memory to digest. A time when you were both so young, filled with nothing but dreams and passionate love for one another. Love so deep, that you remember the nights you’d spend locked up with Hongjoong under the sweaty bed sheets inside your cabin, blissfully making love until the sun would rise and he would finally kiss you to sleep. Perhaps, it was that summer when you realized you were going to marry and be with Kim Hongjoong forever someday. 

Though it’s too bad, someday already passed. 

“Do you remember when Seonghwa got so drunk he ended up confessing to Jieun in front of all the girl’s sleeping cabins?” Hongjoong snickers, relishing in the embarrassing memory his friend always hates him for bringing up. You laugh out loud, remembering the memory. “Oh my god, yes!” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “In nothing but his underwear, right?” 

Hongjoong nodded, smiling with one hand on the steering wheel as he drove.

“Didn’t he end up jumping into the lake afterwards? With you having to go in and save him as well?” You share your laughter with one another, catching up on past memories as your twin daughters listened attentively in the back, reliving them with you together.

That's what makes the hour and half drive from the city into the wilderness feel so short, finally pulling into the graveled parking lot of the vast cottage resort. White suburban cottages lined along one another, a good amount of distance in between each for every family staying. 

As Hongjoong parked the car, the view outside was so glorious you had to hold your breath. Glistening clear blue waves in the lake reflect the bright sunshine from above. A light breeze is present today with the way the willow and oak trees swayed gently. 

“It’s beautiful” you gasped from as far as you got out of the car, stretching your upper body with eyes closed as you inhaled the fresh air. 

Hongjoong stills his movements, shutting the door before replying with his gaze caught at your backside.

“Yeah, it is” he smiles.

Both of you turn around at a loud voice coming from behind. “We’re gonna explore the campsites and souvenir shops first!” Eunbyeol shouts as she runs away with her sister's hand in hers, towards the wooden cabin that's settled further away. 

“What about lunch?” you call to them. 

“We’re not hungry!”

Hongjoong tells them to be safe, and to stick around nearby. You smirked, helping him unload the trunk as you told him. “They’ll be fine. They’re probably too excited to even think right now” you giggled, bumping shoulders with him. 

You feel the tension that was once so strong between you two fade slowly, walking up the wooden steps of your lodge and exchanging conversation with each other.

“Hey, I just want my babies to be safe” he admits, a grin on his face as he holds the cooler in his hands. You chuckle, shaking your head at his protectiveness. 

“Here it is!” he exclaims, setting the suitcases in the front foyer as he opens the door. “Lodge number 1117”

The two story cottage is larger than it appears from the outside, having a modern yet rustic interior that you and Hongjoong admired. It had everything you would need, from a well designed kitchen area to a cozy living room space.

“It’s perfect, the kids will love it” you beam, looking at the hanging hammock chair in the corner of the living room and the gray stone fireplace. It fit perfectly for your family. 

Hongjoong smiles, sunglasses perched on top of his head as he sets the luggage down near the kitchen. Walking up beside him, you help him unload the cooler and ice boxes first, settling into your new home for the next few days. 

“I’m guessing you still drink?” you ask, looking in his direction as you unloaded the case of beer you saw him bring from the trunk.

He gestured to the booze. “C’mon, it wouldn’t be a vacation without it, would it?” 

You wholeheartedly agreed, placing a few in the fridge before you shut it closed. 

“Hopefully, this time we won’t end up shit faced like we did back in college” you laugh, turning to face him. 

“I can already picture that time we got so drunk from that bottle of tequila my friend brought, we snuck out of the campsite and went to the forest and got lost.” you spoke, the memory a little foggy but nonetheless fresh in your mind. 

Hongjoong smiles, listening as you speak.  

“There wasn’t anything but trees and bushes in that forest!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. “What did we even do there?” 

Hongjoong replies nonchalantly, folding the cardboard box in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure we fucked.”

You momentarily freeze at his words, before letting out a soft awkward laugh, causing him to look up. 

“No we didn’t, Hongjoong” you immediately deny, not believing his words. But your brows began furrowing at the foggy memory, starting to realize you really couldn’t trust your alcohol tolerance, now as an adult and even back when you were a college student. Did you guys have sex? In a forest out of all places?

Hongjoong leans against the kitchen counter, across from you as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and smirks smugly. 

“Nope, I distinctly remember it” he recalls, taking a step closer so he was now in your space. 

“I held your hand in mind as we walked up that trail by the cliff. And gosh, were we horny that night, because I remember you complaining about all that dirt you got on your knees from giving me the greatest head i've ever experienced in my entire life-” 

Slapping your hands over his mouth to stop him from going on, you blushed as you glared at him. 

“Jesus christ,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes before confessing.

“I get it, we fucked.”

Suddenly, you and Hongjoong break out into giggles like varsity sweethearts again at the story. Though embarrassed and cringing internally from the way you acted as young adults, it was nice to share them together now. At the proximity in which you’re standing in, you can't help but stare at each other softly. A hand wraps around your waist, making your breath hitch as he pulls you closer. 

“What are you doing?” you grin, watching him.

He looms over you, able to tell that something sits right at the tip of his tongue that he hesitantly decides to say. “I’m pretty sure,” he mutters, staring at your face and cautiously grazing the skin under your blouse. You feel your breathing speed up. 

“I also held you like this in my arms as you were leaning against that tree” his grip gentle and immediately transporting you back to the scenery that night. His sharp tone contrasts his touch. 

“Yknow, the one we fucked against?” he teases to you one more time.

The scent of burning campfire. A cold, midnight breeze. The feeling of the rough cedar tree against your back as Hongjoong thrusted inside you with every delirious snap of his hips, holding you close while he fucked you to oblivion with only the forest animals standing witness to your sinful actions. The film replays like a cheesy R-rated romance movie in your mind. 

“Did you, now?” You gulp, looking up at him as you adjust to the foreign feeling of his touch on your hips. 

“Yeah. I remember it all” he states, smirking down at you with an intense gaze.

The memory dies down when you catch yourself staring at his lips, arms finding their way around his neck as he dives down to whisper softly to you.

“Do you remember too?” He asks.

How he held you in his arms. How he whispered in your ear while you came around his cock, drool and traces of cum littering the corners of your mouth while Hongjoong didn’t care if you were stretching his flannel from how hard you were tugging at the material.

You nod. “I do,” you muttered, lashes fluttering as you felt as though your heart wouldn’t stop beating. “I remember you kissed me on the lips,” you confessed. 

Perhaps you wanted him to do it again right now. 

He looks in your eyes, searching for your approval that you desperately give, breath hitting each other's faces as he slowly leaned down to try and connect your lips. His chest is pressed against yours, and you begin to realize you haven’t shared the same breath like that in so long. You were so close to kissing right then and there.

If only you leaned in closer…

“We’re back!”

You push Hongjoong across the kitchen, shoving his hip painfully into the marble counter and ignoring his high-pitched groan of agony as you immediately look away to avoid suspicion, continuing to grab the beer from the icebox in front of you.

“Girls!” you exclaimed, voice wavering. 

Of course, Eunbyeol and Eunseo walk in with matching postcards and goodies from the souvenir shop in their hands, their sunglasses perched on their heads as their eyes lit up with excitement. They were still oblivious to the fact that they almost caught their parents about to make out in the kitchen.

“Dad, this place is amazing!” Eunbyeol deadpans, telling her father. “They even have jet skiing on the other side of the lake! We gotta go now!”

Hongjoong clutches his hip, pursing his lips as he hides his expression of pain and surprise. 

“Really? That's great sweetie”

Eunseo however, is quick to catch on.

“What were you guys doing?” she looks at you suspiciously. Her words hang in the air for a moment. 

“Were you guys about to kis-”

Hongjoong and you frantically scurry to find a plausible excuse, shuffling awkwardly. 

“I was helping your dad unload the cooler” 

“I was helping your mom get something out of her eye”

Both girls stare at you meekly. Eunbyeol scrunches her nose. “Huh?”

Plastering on a fake smile, you briskly leaped over the luggage nearby, ushering them upstairs before they had the chance to ask anymore questions.

“I think it’s time to unpack your things.” you watched their eyebrows quirk at the way you pushed them out the kitchen.

“We can do it on our own, mom! It’s really no big d-”

You clamp Eunbyeol’s mouth shut with your hand, blushing profusely as you walk away with them. 

Hongjoong stands there alone in the kitchen, rubbing his hip and wondering what the hell just almost happened.

The next few days, you and Hongjoong don’t discuss the incident between you two. Rather, the beginning of the trip after that event has become a painful performance trying your best to be eerily polite yet distant to each other in front of your children, as if that would make you forget the fact that you two almost kissed in the kitchen.

“Could you pass the sunscreen, honey?” Hongjoong would say awkwardly, turning his back to flash you a cheery smile on the lake deck as Eunbyeol and Eunseo watched you interact while floating in the cool, summer waters. 

You passed the bottle to your ex-husband while maintaining awkward distance. “Of course, darling!” 

“Thanks honey!”

“No problem sweetheart!”

This resulted in Eunbyeol and Eunseo looking at their parents in horror, the youngest twin muttering under her breath as they discussed an urgent change of plans.

“We have to get them to stop being weird.”

Apart from that, the ‘family bonding time’ promise to your daughters was maintained, and each day was an adventure for all of you in terms of what you would do together next. An accumulation of forest trekking, water-skiing and outdoors barbeques on the patio of your cottage made everyday feel more and more special for your girls, seeing how they relished in having both their parents with them at the same place and time. It became moments of peace and resolution that eventually became special for you and Hongjoong too. 

“I hope we stay here forever,” Eunseo blurted out one evening after a blissful day near the lakeshore, watching as the sun began to go down. She was busy licking the sticky sides of her melting ice cream cone in one hand, the other one held in yours. 

Hongjoong and Eunbyeol were a few feet ahead, laughing loudly and holding hands as they compared their fruit popsicles with one another to see whose was bigger. 

“You and Byeol would eventually get sick of going to the lake all the time” You smiled, the corners of your mouth turning up before her next words made the strings of your heart tug. 

“Sure, but at least you and dad could be together with us too.”

You watched as she ran up to her sister and dad, joining in on their fun as she began boasting that her ice cream was better than theirs. Hongjoong’s smile is the biggest you’ve ever seen it to be, looking down at his girls with a golden tan from the past few days spent outside, and hair slightly damp from swimming. 

Any person could tell the love in his eyes was as pure a father’s love for his girls could be. 

Her words stuck with you until that very night, where after dinner, board games, and much pacing back and forth in your own room before getting into bed, you decided to cautiously approach Hongjoong’s room on the opposite side of the second floor.

Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as you peeked through the sliver of the open door.

He's wearing an oversized sleep tee and blue pajama pants, getting in some nighttime reading before bed. His glasses are perched on his nose, intently reading his paperback novel. He looks as domestic as a husband gets. 

At the sound of your steps though, he sits up from his relaxed state on his bed, one arm that was supporting his head coming out as the other hand settles the book down on his abdomen. He looks surprised to see you. 

“Hi” he states, looking at you. 

“Hey”

Hongjoong’s expression immediately softened at your figure, watching as you shuffled awkwardly in front of him. The room is quiet. 

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” He nods, setting his bookmark in the spine of the cover and turning his attention to you, offering you to take a seat on his linen covers. You see his polaroid camera with photos taken of Eunbyeol and Eunseo perched on a desk nearby. 

You don’t see the ones he secretly took of you, as those are in his drawers. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t sleep by yourself” he gently teases before watching as your smile doesn't reach the ends of your eyes. You wrap your silk robe closer to your body, feeling sort of vulnerable. 

“How do you like the resort so far?” He asks, watching as you played with your fingers absentmindedly. “Is the room okay?”

“It’s wonderful Hongjoong, better than I could ever have hoped for.” You spoke up, telling the truth.

It’s hard to arrange your thoughts in your head when it’s just the two of you in his room. The kids were already fast asleep. Now was your chance to just tell him how you felt. Why were you hesitating so much?

“Hey, look at me.” Hongjoong’s soft voice calls out to you, a protective hand coming out to caress the back of your head in habit. He can tell you want to say something, and the gesture makes you emotional, remembering how he always used to do that to ease your nerves when you were younger. 

“What’s wrong? Am I making things uncomfortable on the trip?” he worries about the boundaries you established with him at the beginning, watching as your lip begins to quiver and the emotions suddenly overcome you. 

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” you sniffled, tears forming near the brim of your eyes as you looked up at the father of your children. 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, shifting through the covers over to you. “Woah, hey, shh that’s alright I got you” he coos, immediately going into dad mode and embracing you in his arms, letting your head rest against his chest. 

The action is natural, no longer foreign or weird, and you silently thank him for leaving reassuring circles on your back. Husband or not, Hongjoong would always be your best friend first. You had forgotten how much you missed this comforting side to him.  

“Tell me what you’re sorry about” he states, chest tightening at your wet cheeks before he slowly raises your chin to look him in the eyes. 

“For being mean to you for so long” you sniffle, a weakened state of emotional guilt eating away at you. You let him watch you carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how happy the girls have been during this trip. A-And it kills me that we’ve been fighting for the past seven years, and that they’ve grown up seeing such bad parts of ourselves, of my own self” you ramble, confessing how you felt. 

You look up. “They’re happy because we’re together Joong. Because we’re not fighting or avoiding each other like we used to do before.”

He watches as you look up at him with tears forming in your eyes. 

“You’re such a good dad. And I realized you deserve to hear that.”

At the sounds of more sniffles, Hongjoong finally speaks, smiling as he brushes stray hair from your face. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else but you to be the mother of our children, I hope you know that”

His truthfulness throws you off guard.

“I’m sorry too” he sighs, letting you sit up straight and look him in the eyes properly. “I haven’t been the best partner either, baby. We were both mean to each other.” he says, brushing a tear away from your face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve thrown a hair dryer at me once before as well” he attempts to make you laugh, affection blooming in his chest when he sees he succeeds, wiping your tears. 

“But I already knew how you felt, sweetheart. I always know” he smiles, eyes mirroring a weak ache in his heart.  

“Married or not, we were once friends. And now we’re family” His voice turns deep, strong and dependable like the father he’s become.

“We can start over” you tell him, smiling as he folds his hands over your palm. “We can always do better from now and going forward. For ourselves, and for Eunseo and Eunbyeol.” 

Hongjoong nods, hesitantly for a split second before he leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, showing a gesture of affection that you longed for so long.

You shut your eyes, the kiss making your heart flutter. 

“Friends again?” He whispers, though silently wanting something more. 

You sighed, pulling him in closer to embrace in a hug. “Friends” you nodded while inhaling his comforting scent. 

The next morning, and for the rest of the remaining trip onwards, you and Hongjoong’s relationship dynamics did the equivalent of a 180 degree turn. 

It’s hard to believe you two really just wanted to be ‘friends’

Eunbyeol and Eunseo could tell by the way you talked to each other more, noticing you share more secret glances and fleeting touches that were innocent to the eye, but concealing a longing that you both tried to hide. You knew you couldn’t get carried away. You and Hongjoong were simply resolving a rough patch in your parenting. Not getting back together in a relationship. 

But after spending more time together while Eunbyeol and Eunseo became occupied on their own, it was hard keeping the interactions to a justified amount. Long walks in the forest, evenings spent cooking together, even cuddling together on the couch during family movie night. Thinking your kids were too busy watching the vintage Disney movie play on screen, when in fact, the real love story they were more invested in was happening right in front of their eyes, watching their parents falling in love again.

This led to the last event in their plan that they hoped would finally seal the deal. 

On Saturday night, the last night of your trip before you had to go back to the city, you and Hongjoong are surprised to find mini invitations left on your beds, scribbled in glitter pen and cursive handwriting reading out the following:

Gourmet Dinner Date for 2

Time: 7:30 pm

Location: Outdoor patio 

Dress code: Formal and Classy

You and your husband chuckled at the cards left on your beds, suddenly finding a twin each by your side and ushering you to get ready. 

“Do you and your sister even know how to cook dinner, Eunbyeol?” You questioned as your daughter rushed to push you into your walk-in closet, forcing you to get ready. 

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips looking offended. 

“At least my cooking skills don’t take after Dad’s, mom.” She mumbled, choosing your shoes for you. “Have some trust in a girl!”

Meanwhile, Hongjoong gets pampered by Eunseo in the other room, though in reality, her blunt critiques on her dads fashion are bruising his pride at the moment. 

“Dad, you have many normal clothes to wear. You have to chill with the ripped baggy jeans.” she demands, trudging through his closet to find something formal for him to wear. 

He begins to protest but his daughter shakes her head. “You’re supposed to look good for mom!” she huffs, searching on her own. At Eunseo’s words, the man starts to slightly worry, scratching the back of his head. 

“You and Byeol are gonna join too, right?”

She stops for a second, looking back to her father as she avoids the question and instead retorts back. 

“It’s just a date, Dad. Relax”

Back to what was happening in the other room at the end of the hallway, you huffed in frustration when you walked back into your closet after Byeol rejected another one of your outfits for the dinner date. 

“I have nothing else to wear, sweetie, these are all the clothes I have.” you came to terms with a hand coming to your forehead after having searched in despair. 

The ten year old shakes her head before pushing you out of the way and digging deep into your suitcase. She reveals a delicate piece of material you didn’t even realize you packed. 

“We got some help from Aunt Sophie and Uncle Hwa to pack you guys clothes that you could wear for a special occasion.” she wiggles her eyebrows, a smug grin on her face as you gap in shock. 

You inspect the dress, lips parting in disbelief as you feel the material. 

“I haven’t worn this since I was in college.” You uttered softly to yourself. 

At one longing look of the short dress, you shake your head, walking back into the closet to find something else. “I-I can’t wear this Byeol, what would your dad think?“ you asked nervously.

“Dad said he thinks your boobs looked hot in this dress so Aunt Sophie and I picked it specially” she looks up at you, proud of what she just said.  

You whip your head around, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Byeol! Where did you hear that from?” 

She sighs. “Dad had one too many drinks this one time and started talking about you guys back in college” she explained before shoving the infamous black dress in your hands. 

“Talked a lot about how pretty you were,” she draws out her words in a teasing voice. You curse your husband for his mistake.

You bite your lip as you stare down at the fabric in your hands. 

It was undeniable. You knew you looked amazing in this dress. You could testify from the amount of times Hongjoong ripped it off of you after countless night out’s filled with sexual tension and playful flirting. For god's sake, Eunbyeol and Eunseo could’ve almost had another sibling thanks to that dress.

“Fine.” you muttered bashfully, turning away as you walked into the closet to change. 

“But I’m just gonna try it on.”

Thirty minutes, one mental breakdown and too many outfit changes to count later, you walk down the stairs wearing the dress Eunbyeol had successfully persuaded you to wear. 

What do you know, the kid was right. Your boobs looked amazing in that dress. 

Not just your boobs, your whole body looked incredible with its strong curves and the beautiful fill it gave to the dress, making it slightly tighter than when you wore it as a twenty year old, but still all the more mature and sophisticated. You really did look hot.

Eunbyeol rushes down the stairs before you, catching up with her sister to inspect her job on their fathers preparation. 

“Well?” She says expectedly, looking at her dad. “Let’s take a look!”

He sports a simple yet timeless white collar dress shirt, the first few buttons undone as he wears a form fitting black dress-vest that accentuates his waist, dress pants paired to go along with it. Though simple, his silver rings pulled the outfit together, making him just as good looking and sophisticated as you were. 

Hongjoong’s back faces towards your front, watching as the man nervously shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“How do I look guys?” He gulps, adjusting his collar and sweeping his blond hair back. 

Eunseo rolls her eyes, a grin on her proud little face. “Do you even have to ask, dad?” She’s more than confident in the outfit she and Seonghwa coordinated together. 

He chuckles, shaking his head as he nervously tells them. 

“I want to look good for your mom, you know what I mean? She's a difficult woman to impress sometimes.”

“I’m difficult?” You tease, walking down the last few steps of the stairs. 

The man turns his head around, losing his breath at the sight of you standing there in front of him, wearing that dress that he hadn’t seen you wear for so long, looking breathtaking in every possible way. 

“Hi” you grinned softly, feeling sort of shy.

The way you fit in that dress made an insatiable hunger fuel inside Hongjoongs chest, eyes gazing at the way you strutted over in the black, lace covered material with your hair tied back and glossed lips turned upwards as your dimples showed. He breaks from his admiration when you quirk a brow at him, making the man almost fall to his knees and stutter uncontrollably. 

“I-I No I didn’t mean that-“

You giggle as you bravely take Hongjoongs hands in your own, shutting him up as you turn to your daughters standing in front of you, starstruck at your aura. 

“Outside, right?” you winked at them. 

“Right this way!” Eunseo enthusiastically leads you out back to the outdoor patio, a perfect view of the garden and lakeside coming into effect. Hongjoong slips his hand from yours, and slides it across your waist, pulling you into his side. 

“My parents are too cool” Eunbyeol sighs under her breath, watching from behind in awe.

Your ex-husband makes you swoon when he leans in to whisper softly. “You look breathtaking, sweetheart.” feeling an immense sense of pride at how lucky he was to make you the mother of his children. 

You blush, turning to him to whisper playfully back. 

“Not bad yourself.” 

You both look forward when you come to a stop at the patio steps, sheer amazement at the full preparation your daughters did for this event. Fairy lights were hung around the area, a table with two chairs on either side placed with a white table cloth and a bouquet of freshly hand picked flowers from the forest, battery powered candles that were sold at the souvenir shop lit in the middle and glowing softly. 

Eunbyeol dashes to the door when it rings, making you and Hongjoong furrow your brows. 

“Is someone here?” he asks, watching Eunseo fold a napkin over her arm like the pro waiter she was. The other one walks out, an oily fast food paper bag in her hands as she smiles. “Dinner is served!” 

“Turns out that diner 15 minutes away also delivers!” She chuckled, helping her sister plate the two cheeseburgers, fries, and vanilla and strawberry milkshakes. 

You and Hongjoong continue to watch in stunned amazement as the girls prepare the not exactly gourmet(?) but still impressive meal in front of you, their small hands working swiftly. 

“You guys prepared all of this?” You asked, getting a little emotional. They grin proudly, nodding their heads. “We called the place earlier and planned it all by ourselves!”

You pressed a kiss to each of their soft cheeks, thanking them both as Hongjoong did the same. 

“What did I do to get so lucky with my girls?” he smiles, ruffling their heads. 

“What about you guys?” You asked, watching as they slowly backed away to give you two some privacy. 

“Natalie and her mom invited us over for dinner and a sleepover tonight at her cottage,” Eunbyeol smiles. At the mention of their newly made friend that they had gotten close to over the week, Hongjoong looks at you then back at them. 

“What? But- ”

She cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “Her mom said it’s totally fine with her. She’s only two cottages down, and she’ll make sure we’re back in time again for tomorrow when we leave!” 

The two girls smile in excitement, though the both of you have your parental instincts kick in. 

“Please?” they begged, wanting you to let them go so that they could do this for you guys as much as they wanted to do it for themselves. “She’s waiting for us now!”

Hongjoong feels guilty. “C’mon, you guys should still join us!”

Eunseo immediately shakes her head, declining the offer. 

“Tonight is all about you guys. We don’t want to intrude” she chuckles, bumping shoulders with her sister who chips in.

“We’ll text you guys in the middle to let you know everything’s good of course” 

You and Hongjoong smile, a feeling of immense proudness overwhelming you from seeing your daughters act so grown up. There wasn’t anything else you felt grateful for more. 

“Thank you girls.” you muttered softly, watching as they flashed you a wink before hurrying out through the backyard door. 

“Don’t get all kissy in the backyard!” Eunbyeol teases, making cheesy smooching sounds with the back of her hand as her sister rolls her eyes and shoves her out. 

Before you know it, you’re left standing with just the sound of smooth jazz playing on the patio speakers and the buzzing of the summer cicadas. 

“She takes after you, I hope you know that” You told Hongjoong softly.  

He chuckles, “Not as much as you.” He gestures to the table. “Shall we?” 

And that’s how the next few hours seem to pass by without even realizing. 

You see, there was a reason why you fell in love with the man sitting in front of you, and you’re just beginning to remember it now. Being with Hongjoong felt as if the moment was everlasting, and you could testify that from the amount of laughter and deep conversation that was shared over dinner, bringing you to sit on that patio until the sun had set. Every so often you’d smile again at the thought of the twins preparing this all for you. 

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date like this” You blurted out after laughing about something, taking a sip of your strawberry milkshake through a straw. 

“Oh, so we’re going on dates now, are we?” Hongjoong grins, making you roll your eyes at him. 

You lean forward on the table cloth, watching as a glimmer passes through your husband’s eyes while he sits back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he clears his voice. 

“But you’ve gone on dates after we split, haven’t you?” he asks, leaning forward in interest now, letting his chin rest on his palm. 

You shook your head slowly.

“Nope. Not since signing those papers” you revealed. 

Hongjoong furrows his brows in surprise. “And why’s that?” 

You suddenly didn’t have an answer. “I-I don’t know, I just…” You began, watching how he looked at you with an unreadable expression. You smiled, looking down and suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“I guess I was too focused on running the bridal shop, I couldn’t find the time to.” You use as a cliche excuse. 

“Bullshit” he retorts back immediately. 

“It’s true!” You protested, throwing a fry at him that he dodges, landing on his finished plate. 

“You always did say back when we were younger that you wanted to be a designer. And look at you now” he admires, letting the candle lights shine a youthful glow to your face. 

“You always said you wanted to become a music producer and write your own songs.” you reciprocated, smiling as you soaked in the presence of one another. “And here you are now.” 

You think for a moment before asking the same question. 

“How about you?” 

Hongjoong silently shakes his head as his answer, though silently thinking about something else. The music changes to some old Billy Joel song in the back. You don’t realize it, but Hongjoong smiles to himself when he realizes the girls added it to the playlist. Of course they had to, it was one of the songs you played at your wedding. 

“What were we thinking when we got married like that?” You asked out loud, looking at how far you’d both come. You definitely skipped some of the order of the stages of a normal relationship. 

“I mean, we had no money, no prospects. Hell, we didn’t even have a car, Hongjoong!” you realized.

Your husband laughs, sitting straight and letting some skin show through his unbuttoned collar. 

“We were young” he justifies. 

“Yeah, and stupid too,” you pointed out, feeling the summer breeze pass by. It felt good to sit here like this with him.

You wondered, could sitting here like this with Hongjoong be a regular thing? After this trip, would you be able to walk back into each other’s lives again like this? 

As both parents and lovers?

Hongjoong brings up something you wouldn’t have expected him to. 

“Do you remember when we first found out about Eunseo and Eunbyeol?” he questioned softly, looking at you. 

You blink, taken aback. Suddenly you’re back in your college dorm washroom, sobs wracking through your body as Hongjoong who had only just sent his first few mixtapes to recording stations and companies nearby, pulled you close into his chest, eyeing the two lines left on the counter while he caressed your back. Only twenty years old and figuring out what you wanted to do with your lives, you were suddenly stuck in a sudden situation that had made you feel like your dreams would have been given up on completely. 

“I do,” you told him, pulling yourself from the memory. 

“I remember because in that moment I felt like the whole world was caving in”. You laughed, though it wasn’t fully cheerful.

“I don’t regret it, though” Hongjoong replies after some thought, gazing at you with truth in his eyes. 

You shook your head. “Of course. Neither do I.” 

It was a blessing to have two beautiful daughters as the product of your love.

“I don’t regret you either.” Hongjoong states.

You lock gazes, unable to take your eyes off of his face. 

“I loved you when I first met you and I still loved you when we divorced,” he says all at once, making your breath hitch and heart waver. 

“Don’t say that.” you tell him, looking away and suddenly reminding yourself you’re still divorced from the man sitting in front of you. 

How could he still love you after all this time? How could you feel the same about him?

Hongjoong continues, shaking his head as he bites back the lodge in his throat and makes up his mind. He has to tell you. 

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.” 

Don’t do this to me you begged silently.

“I’ve hurt you just as much as you’ve hurt me.” He swallows, thinking back to the times you already knew he was referring to. The times where you fought to the point where there wasn’t even anything worth fighting for anymore. 

“But you have given me the greatest gifts of my life.” He smiles, holding his tears back.

“And for that I will always love you.”

You push your seat from the table, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and wanting to avoid him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you dejected, walking away from the patio and from Hongjoong.

There wasn’t anything else you could fake anymore. You couldn’t bear to hear the man you once loved, possibly even still love, say these things like he had a dagger lodged in his heart. Didn’t he know he was only going to do the same to you?

Hongjoong is quick to catch up, holding onto your wrist and turning you around, that your back collides with the nearest wall inside, pressing your fronts together and closing the distance.

“Why do you always run away from me? From the possibility of us?” He exclaimed, voice breaking. His heart crushed at the way you turned your head, hot tears already clouding your vision. 

“Because ‘us’ can’t happen again, Hongjoong!” You cried, staring up at the man you once promised your life to.

“Don’t you get it? Us going on this trip isn’t a sign to get back together. What would we do seven years after breaking up?”

“We could do it” He states firmly, staring you down, both your chests heaving.

You bite your tears back again. “No we couldn’t, honey. We would be pretending to think we solved our marriage. What would we do about our daughters? After putting them through our constant fighting— ”

He slams his lips to your own, shutting you up as you painfully resist his touch. Your hands came up to push him away, but at the sudden gesture, you’re already giving in and sobbing softly, letting him hold you for just one last time. 

Your lips mold so perfectly, it almost hurts how much you missed this feeling. To have him slot his arms around your waist, pull you in close, and cherish you. You almost forgot this feeling. 

He pulls away softly, watching your lashes flutter, pleading to you for a chance as he leans closer, making your breath hitch. 

“We could be together as a family again,” he states firmly, your name leaving his lips in a desperate plea. “We never know if we try—”

You drown out his words, looking up with tears falling as you cut him off. 

“Seven years ago I gave you those papers to sign, thinking that you would’ve chased after me,” 

Hongjoong holds his breath, watching as the next words stumble from your mouth. 

“I realize now, how stupid I was to think that.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to chase you”

Shoving his chest away while mustering the last of your strength you uttered. “Of course I wanted you to chase me.” You let go of his hands. “It’s too late either way”, walking away from the defeated man.

Hongjoong stands alone near the patio entrance, watching his tears fall to the wooden floorboards. Holding the ring he had kept hidden in his trouser pocket, he plays with it in his fingers, silently wishing he had given it to you sooner. 

It rains the next morning on your departure back to the city. Perfect, considering it reflects the sudden storm of utter depression that falls upon your family. Long gone are the cheerful giggles and longing stares that were shared between you and Hongjoong during the ride to the cottage. 

There was no room for that, not after last night.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo sat slumped in the backseat, rain hitting the roof of the car as they mindlessly played on their cell phones. Really, they were peeking from behind every so often and watching their parents sit in the front seat with tension so thick, you could’ve cut it with a knife. 

What had they done wrong? They planned the trip, the activities, the dinner— it was all perfect. And yet why were you still fighting with each other? 

These questions racked in their brains, baffled to have witnessed the sight of their parents refusing to talk to each other after walking back from their friends' sleepover. 

Eunbyeol and Eunseo felt as useful as matchmakers without a couple, feeling their efforts all gone down the drain. 

At the sudden ring of your cell phone, you pick up, answering at the voice of your assistant. 

“I’m driving back up right now”

Hongjoong continues focusing on the road, the occasional wiping of rain from the windshield wipers on the front window. 

“Yes. That’s okay, I'll take care of it.” You muttered, glancing at the rear view mirror for a moment. Your twin daughters immediately sigh, having an idea of what to expect when you say those familiar words. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

You hang up the phone, 

“One of us isn’t going with you, are we?” Eunseo asks, making you look back at her with a sigh. 

“No, you’re not” You confess, apologetic. ‘I’m sorry honey. I really am.”

You look back facing the front, swallowing as you told Hongjoong. 

“You’ll have to drop me off at the studio. Some things aren’t working out with the client so they need me to come in and take care of it.”

He nods, unphased as he continues to look straight. 

“Will you be fine with the girls?” You asked carefully, watching them as they were slumped in the backseat.

Hongjoong grips the wheel before turning to you. 

“I‘ll be fine. Don’t worry about it” sending a small smile, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. 

The twins thank god that at least neither of them had to choose to go back home with either parent. 

They would’ve hated that more. 

After barely being able to depart and say goodbye to your daughters in front of your studio, holding them close for a warm embrace and thanking them for an unforgettable weekend, Hongjoong drives off with his daughters, an empty feeling cascading his thoughts. He puts on a smile still, trying to cheer up his girls. 

“What do you want to do first when we go home? Want to unpack and then eat? We can eat and then unpack. Or we could- ”

Eunseo crosses her arms, having been fed up for far too long.

“Dad, you must be out of your mind.” 

Hongjoong stills, furrowing his brows and peeking at the first born who crosses her arms, holding an attitude. 

“Eunseo, what are you- ” 

“You’re telling me you and Mom just spent a whole entire week together at the cottage, had the best time of your lives since separating with one another, and now you’re just going to go back to not speaking or talking to each other again?”

Hongjoong blinks at his daughter’s sudden outburst, already making a turn into the driveway of his house.  

Eunbyeol now reciprocates her twin, looking at her dad as she slouches beside him, coming near the front seat area. 

“She’s got a point dad. Do you really just not love mom anymore?” She worries, looking up at him genuinely concerned. 

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to answer these sudden questions right now, stuttering to reply.

“Me and your mother are fine!” He lies, trying to reassure them. “That trip wasn’t just for us, it was also for you two to enjoy— ”

Eunseo asks the million dollar question. 

“If you still love Mom, why are you letting her go a second time?” 

With the engine turned off, it's gone silent. Two pairs of eyes staring at their father, awaiting his response. 

“Well? Are you going to chase after her or not?!” Eunbyeol groans, her fathers lack of response making her pull her hair. 

They were right. How could he have made the same stupid mistake twice?

Hongjoong struggles to put the keys back in the engine, telling them to put their seat belts back on. Their eyes begin to glow with hope.

“Do you girls mind staying at your uncle’s for a bit?” He asks hurriedly, punching into his cell phone to call his brother for a favor as he pulls out of the driveway. Eunbyeol squeals, hands clamping over her mouth as her sister speaks on behalf of them both. 

“Dad, if you don’t drop us off and get your butt over to mom’s right away, I’m gonna report you to child services.” she threatens, watching as he steps on the accelerator, heart pumping so fast as he smiles through the rear view mirror.

You sighed, holding up your cellphone to your ear. 

“Call me once she approves the design then,” you told your assistant through the receiver, one hand looking over the sheets of paper, highlighting the changes to the new blueprint. 

“Alright then, bye.” 

After hanging up the phone, you rubbed your temples, head pounding as you tucked the files back into the folder. 

The clock in your studio showed the hands about to reach seven pm. A few hours had already passed since coming back from your trip to the cottage, trying to forget everything by burying your focus into the new dress prints a client of yours requested, remodeling them after the original was rejected. 

Fingers worked away swiftly, comparing textiles and fabrics as you looked at the piles of papers and messy sticky notes in front of you. But yet the gears in your mind seemed to churn achingly slow, sighing as you repeatedly told yourself the same thing. 

Just focus on the dress, focus on the dress, focus on the dress.

Don’t think about him. 

The task is impossible. Your mind can’t help but slip back to what your relationship has become with Hongjoong, and what you were going to do now that those seven days were over. For so long you had deprived yourself from indulging in your love life, prioritizing taking care of Eunseo and Eunbyeol while juggling your job as a designer. Had you been doing it all wrong? 

Hongjoong’s words repeat in your head like a broken record player. 

I will always love you

Lies. That promise couldn’t be kept. Your divorce was a clear outcome of it. You and Hongjoong were two people not meant for one another. You were too different, all you would do is hurt one another, make life an unbearable living hell—

And yet you missed him. You missed Hongjoong so much. 

What was fucking keeping you from loving him? Was it your stubbornness? Was it really the fact that he didn’t chase after you? Or was it none of that and just your own self being stupid?

The front door of the studio opens, pulling you from your thoughts as you got back to the sketches. You called up from your desk as you worked quietly. 

“The studios closed for the- ”

Heavy breathing. The man who just walked in catches his breath from dashing out of his car and up the three flights of stairs, driving through almost an hour of traffic in pouring rain to be here in this moment with you.

“Hongjoong?”

He’s drenched, making a mess on the floor of the studio as the droplets fall softly one by one. 

Suddenly he's striding over to where you’re sitting in long steps before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss throws you off guard, the shock of his cold hands cradling your face makes you close the gap unknowingly. 

Linking your arms around his neck while kissing back passionately, you let your hands rest on his shoulders, pulling back for air as you panted heavily, catching your breaths and looking at each other with pure love and lust. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, feeling dumb because your heart already knew the answer. His hands wrap around your waist, desperate as if you would leave him again. 

But he’s just so fucking tired of that now. He just wants to love you now.

“I lost you once.” He breathes, eyes watering.

“I’m not going to lose you again”. 

Suddenly, everything that kept you from being with each other is thrown away. 

That hate, that fear, everything is gone because you realize you still needed each other. You’re still the same twenty year old couple standing in that dorm washroom, holding each other close and knowing it’ll be okay because at least you had each other. 

You grasp onto his damp shirt, pulling him down with such force that your lips meet again, taking charge as you finally allowed him to have you. 

“You’re a fucking idiot” you whined between kisses, curses escaping your lips when he softly bites the flesh of your neck to test the waters. “I hope you know that”

He agrees wholeheartedly, nodding as if he was already getting pussydrunk.

“I’m an idiot” he mumbles to himself, letting it escape his lips like a mantra. Well, he was stupid enough to only chase after you this late, so if his wife told him he was an idiot, then so he was.

“Let me prove how much I love you,” a hand comes to graze near the collar of your shirt. 

You gasped, watching as Hongjoong lifted you from your seat and rutted his hips against your core pathetically, your ass digging into the edge of the table.

“Here?” Your eyes widened, watching his expression turn dark. He presses kisses on your collarbone, making your hands grasp the wood for support. “Hongjoong wait,” you exhaled in a deep breath, heart beating against your chest.

But he doesn’t give a shit. He’s tired of waiting. 

“It’s been too fucking long” he protests, ripping your top off. You’re dizzy from how abruptly he’s stripping you, latching onto his shoulders for support as you wobble from him unzipping your jeans and pushing them down, exposing you in nothing but your underwear and bra. 

And like the good little whore you are, you immediately spread your legs, letting Hongjoong get a view of the embarrassingly wet patch leaking through your panties as he’s crouched down to let you step out of the denim near your ankles.

Holy fucking shit

You stand bashfully, toes curling from how exposed and vulnerable you were being the only one naked. 

“Please?” you asked nicely, letting your foot rest on his shoulder as your pussy was now on full display for him.

You don’t have time to even finish the last word before Hongjoong dives in, lapping at your soaking cunt and humming in pure ecstasy at the taste. The muffled vibrations make you throw your head back, tugging on his locks to shove his face further. 

Hongjoong’s hands press into your thighs that cage his head in, leaving a grip that you guarantee with littering the flesh with red splotchy bruises. Did you mind? Not at all.

When his tongue pokes at the gummy flesh of your walls, you let out a full moan, echoing throughout the studio as the air begins to smell like sex. 

“Right there, yes” you urged him, leg beginning to shake from how weak it was getting. 

He's so invested, you fear he might suffocate any longer if he doesn’t pull back for air. So you grasp his head, pushing him away from his meal while you both gasped lightly.

You watch him wipe his slick covered chin with the back of his hand, not breaking eye contact as he stares. 

“You were just begging to be fucked for all these years, weren’t you sweetheart?” He teases. 

Though you wanted him to lap at your juices until you came, you knew you needed to still feel his cock inside after so long. 

Your fingers played with the hem of your underwear, smiling back at your husband. 

“And you were just begging to get a taste of this pussy, weren’t you, Joong?” wiping that smug grin off his face.

”Lay down for me” he demands, getting up so that one hand finds its way to the back of your bra to unclasp it. The other clears half your desk covered in wedding dress blueprints and sketches, making sure nothing would make you uncomfortable before he fucked you on that mahogany surface so all you’d remember would be his name. 

And people said romance was dead. 

When the bra slides off and your bare back hits your desk, you suddenly realize what Hongjoong’s intention was when he ordered you to do that. 

Soft mounds spill out as your breasts take their natural form, giving Hongjoong the perfect view of your tits. Pervert. 

He immediately latches his tongue on a nipple, taking his hand and playing with the other, twisting painfully. 

A cry escapes your lips, parting them open as you let him play with them as much as he wanted to. He smiles against the motherfuckers, knowing that shut you up perfectly. 

“Are you ready for me to fuck you now?”

“Please, Joong, I need you” you whined, submitting yourself to your husband. He already knows you’re in need of one last kiss, coming up to give his wife what she wants by slotting his lips against yours again, this time much harsher. 

“Tell me so that I treat you good, baby” he mumbles, pulling back and making you clench your thighs together. He undoes his shirt in the meantime, unbuckling his belt and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek when you sobbed. 

“Fuck me, please” 

His fingers slide your panties to the side to press his aching tip to your wet core. 

“Like this?” He teases.

“Inside, Hongjoong” you emphasized, meaning what you said with the way your nails dug into a pile of papers nearby. Biting your lip from how sensitive and needy your cunt was. 

“I know, I know,” he murmured, smiling to himself after messing with you. 

“I just missed this pretty cunt” before in one strong thrust, Hongjoong’s bulging tip enters inside your walls, giving you a stretch you forgot how much you loved. You whined softly. 

“Shit” he curses, relishing how the buildup finally led to this moment. 

The man is ravenous, but he’s genuinely trying his best to ease the painful stretch as you adjust to his thickness, nipping your neck in a trail of hickeys and love bites posessively.

With every thrust he makes, you arch your back, pencils and papers shuffling near by you. 

“Fucking look at my wife” he admires proudly, watching the woman he loves bounce her tits at every thrust of his cock. 

“S’too much” you caved in, shaking your head at the stimulation. 

You claw at his arms, head turning to the side as your eyes roll back from pleasure. 

“I know, mama, I know” 

He grabs a tit in his left hand, the right one coming down to play with your clit, pressing slow circles near where you were connected. 

“Fuck, I missed these” He rasps, savouring the feeling of your soft flesh in his hand, making you throw your head back. 

“Missed how they looked when you were pregnant” he says, thinking of how ethereal you looked when you were knocked up with his kids. 

“God, at this point I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant again” Hongjoong grunts, snapping his hips deliriously back and forth. He envisions you round and full, fulfilling his inner fantasy. 

“Shut up.” You spat, breaking the mood as you bit your lip to suppress a moan. He almost laughs when you then crane your hips back to give him easier access to keep penetrating you. The desk shuffles. 

“Your mouth is saying one thing, honey, but your body is saying something else” 

After hearing his words, you suck him in further, both of you now getting close. 

“M’close. M’so close!” you whimpered, sitting up so that now Hongjoong could hold you in his arms, caging your body so his cock could stuff you better. 

Your mouth hangs open in silent bliss, hands scratching his back. You leaned into his ear, making the final chord inside him snap. 

“Make me cum, daddy” 

And just like that, you’re clenching around Hongjoong’s massive cock as a creamy white ring begins to form. Hot ropes fill you up inside, tangled in a sweaty mess as he purrs, caressing the back of your head again in habit. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart. You did so good for me”

The sounds of your breathing fill the studio, a pencil or two rolling quietly away on the ground from being shoved off the desk. He shakes his head when you try to pull your sweaty bodies away, hair sticking to your neck but feeling the way he refuses. 

“Just let me love you,” he mumbles into your shoulder, dick softening inside you. “Just for a moment.”

You’re too tired to say anything back, so you finally give in. 

Seven years passed by you two without even realizing how much you still loved each other. Though you wouldn’t be able to get that time back, for once, there was something that you and Hongjoong agreed upon. 

You had no intention of wasting that time any more. 

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Months later, and it still takes everything in Eunbyeol and Eunseo hearts to not scream at the sight of their parents when they walk hand in hand, smiling happily in public as they pick their daughters up from the first day of school. 

The girls jump into their parent’s embrace, eying the two silver rings they now wore proudly together. 

“How was school, darlings?” Hongjoong asks, pressing a kiss to Eunseo and Eunbyeol. 

“It was fun! We watched a documentary about lovebirds” she smiled, looking back up. You laughed softly.

“Which reminded me to tell you,” she grins, watching as you, her sister, and father all looked at her. 

“I hope you know that getting you and dad back together was my plan from the start.” she confesses, smirking at Eunbyeol who scoffs, crossing her arms. 

“Nuh uh, this was my idea first!” 

Before her sister could yell at her twin, you jumped in. 

“Plan? What plan?” You asked quizzically, both you and Hongjoong standing there confused.

“To get you guys to fall back in love again, of course!” Eunseo smiles, both her and her sister now giggling softly together.  

“How am I just finding out that there was a plan?” Hongjoong mutters, scratching his neck in confusion. You turned to the two girls, stopping in your tracks on your way to the car

“When did you two even think of all this?” grinning in astonishment as you felt Hongjoong slot his hand and intertwine it with yours. It felt natural now.

“Yeah, I'm curious too” he states, leaning close and becoming intrigued.

Your daughters look at each other before smiling. 

“It’s a long story.”

But at last, time is something you finally now have as a reunited family of four, walking back to your car, holding hands with a twin on each side.

Listening carefully, as your daughters start from the very beginning.

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

[itsthecline]

smoke and smush

ex-pogue kook!reader x jj maybank

summary the day you and jj make it official , and the morning after when kie finds out.

warnings profanity , sexual innuendos , established secret relationship ( and getting caught ) , smoking marijuana , porn with plot ( grinding , praise , soft dom!jj , fingering , oral fem!receiving , unprotected pinv , kinda rough sex , hair pulling , creampie ) y’all this is filthy…

18+ minors dni

“kie , are you sure you have to go?” you asked , holding your hand to block the sun from your eyes as you watched your friend slip her shorts back on after her dip in the pool.

you invited all of your friends to come over for a pool day. pope declined , explaining he had to help his dad with stuff for work and that he was super , super sorry. you insisted it was not a big deal. john b was still hungover from the night before and whined through the phone that ‘i don’t wanna have to see jj trying to hide his boner from you all day’. you audibly and dramatically gagged into the speaker before hanging up on him , wondering if it was that obvious you and jj were a thing.

so , it was just you , jj , and kie.

and now that the sun was setting , so she was headed home. jj was already going to spend the night ; he didn’t exactly want to go home , and you were beyond okay with having his company after the morning you two had. kie , though , had parents that wanted her home at a decent hour , especially when they knew at least one pogue was hanging around too.

“yeah , the mother is still on my ass after the kegger last weekend,” kie groaned , yanking her t-shirt on as well , it clinging to her still wet skin, “but if you want to , i’m free in the morning! we can get breakfast?”

jj looked at you quickly , nodding for you to agree so he could come with you both. he always told you how much he liked eating with you two because you were able to find such cute spots. “we all get breakfast?” you smiled , tilting your head to jj for kie to get the hint.

“sure,” she laughed , grabbing her bag and slipping her sandals on, “see you bright and early!” and just like that she was heading through your back gate and going home , leaving you and jj swinging in your hamock.

you nudged jj with your foot , getting his attention. “hey , boyfriend?” you spoke flirtatiously , batting your eyelashes in a dramatized fashion.

“yes , girlfriend?” he replied , smiling ear to ear , pressing a kiss to your calf before starting to message your foot.

as of that morning , jj asked you to be ‘his girl’ officially. he had brought over a handful of your favorite flowers , hashbrowns from the wreck , and a cd burned with your favorite songs with ‘will you be my girl?’ scribbled across it in his messy handwriting and little doodles mixed in.

you couldn’t help but giggle out of pure joy. for the first time in a long time , things felt good around you. “you wanna get high and do dirty stuff? y’know my mom and dad aren’t back until monday.”

“you need to get high to wanna do dirty stuff with me? ouch!” his hand flew to his forehead he dramatically threw backward, “you wound me , baby!”

“shut up!” you kick at him, “the dirty stuff is because i want to ; the smoking was for you , shark boy.” you wobbled up , standing from the hammock and slipping your shoes on.

without a word , jj got up and followed you into the house , already knowing you were headed up to your room. one : it was where you kept all your paraphernalia your parents could never know about. two : your king size bed that was perfect for all of the things jj was already hard thinking about.

he reached forward , smacking your ass that was barely covered by your little , green swimsuit. “jj!” you laughed , swatting his hand away as you reached your room. you started digging through the shoe box you kept under your bed first , preparing the bong for the two of you.

“good thing that cd i gave you is the perfect smoke and smush playlist,” jj bragged , manspreading on the edge of your freshly made bed and watching you.

“stop saying smush,” you groaned , packing a bowl with a sour look on your face.

“you think it’s funny on jersey shore!” he argued back , throwing his hands up in shock.

you roll your eyes obnoxiously. “i do! i just don’t think it’s sexy , baby,” you explained softly , leaning over to press a kiss onto the inside of his thigh. he had to hold back a moan at the action , standing up quickly and going to the balcony so you could smoke a bowl or two.

you were on cloud nine. maybe three bowls ago you and jj repositioned to make-out while you straddled his lap grinding down into him. and after about three more you had moved back into your bedroom , settling into your silk sheets.

“you’re my dream girl,” jj muttered into your skin , pressing kisses and sucking deep bruises on your neck, “favorite thing ever. my perfect girl.” your neck craned further back , jaw dropping to let out a soft moan.

“will you show me?” your voice came out more whiney than expected , hips thrusting up to create more friction than jj was giving you. in the midst of moving to the bed , your bikini top came off , but between you and jj still rested your bottoms.

jj pulled back to look you in the eye , goofy smile on his face that was partially covered from his shaggy blonde hair you’d mussed up from combing your fingers through it all day. he leaned in , twisting your lips together deeply once more before planting shorter , softer ones down your body.

“mhm. i’ll show you just how perfect i think you are.” his words were split up by more kisses as he made his way between your legs. he adjusted , throwing your calves over his shoulders , biting at your thighs.

again , you lifted up , needing him. you felt his breath fan across your damp swimsuit as he chuckled. he moved one of his arms to rest his hand on your hip , effectively holding you down. with the other , he so graciously touched you through the fabric. it was soft , barely there , but it forced a whine out of your lips nonetheless.

his fingers expertly pulled your bikini to the side , exposing your slick pussy to the your cold , air conditioned room. you couldn’t help but shiver , goosebumps blossoming across every inch of your bare body. your own hands busied themselves with your tits , pulling and twisting at your nipples to help ground yourself just a little.

“oh , you poor thing,” jj cooed , looking up at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes, “you been like this all day?”

you nodded frantically , another pathetic little cry slipping into the thick air. “i think i’ve waited long enough,” you defend yourself , raising up to your elbows to look down at your boyfriend who was still rubbing at your slit , playing with the slick that had started to pool. “don’t you think , baby?” you encouraged him , biting your lip to keep quiet.

he had the decency to meet your gaze back lovingly before twisting his hand and sliding two fingers into your waiting core. you elicited a louder moan this time , hands flying to grip your sheets. “yeah? you like that , baby?” jj borderline mocked you , moving his fingers in and out of you slowly just before leaning back in to add his tongue into the mix.

your thighs started closing in around jj’s head , and though he didn’t mind it in the slightest , he did mind how much you were squirming. he adjusted his arm to lay flat across your hips , holding you more firmly into the mattress while he continued working his fingers into you. he could hear you begging for him , but all he was focused on was devouring you.

it wasn’t long before your legs had clamped entirely around him , keeping him in place as you got higher and higher. closer and closer to your orgasm. “doing so good for me,” jj groaned , rutting his hips into the mattress. you could only muster a moan in response as your tightened your grip on his sweaty , blonde hair. “want you to come , baby,” he breathed out , pulling his mouth away from your weeping pussy but not stopping his now three fingers from fucking you.

he lifted himself up , hand keeping up with its ministrations but allowing him to hover over you and kiss you. your tongues fought for each other , and you sighed at the taste you on his lips. “so fucking close , j!” you couldn’t even hear the music from the cd playing anymore , but you could thank god your parents were gone for the weekend.

“fucking come for me ; right now.” it was a demand , but jj’s voice was so sweet and his fingers were hitting just the right spot. his head dipped lower , taking one of your nipples into his mouth , running his tongue around the stiff peak before grazing his teeth against it. “please , baby. wanna see you come all over my hand. you hear that? y’so fucking wet,” he was moaning himself , getting off on getting you off , listening to the way your moans were changing as you got closer.

and then it snapped. the long day’s pressure that had built up finally released in the form of you leaking around jj’s fingers , your arousal spraying onto your bed and moans that filled your bedroom and floated out the balcony door. “fuck , fuck , fuck!” you whimpered , grinding into his hand now that your hips were free to move.

jj’s eyes shot down to his hand as soon as he felt your release forcing his fingers out of you , wanting to watch how much of a mess you were making on your now soaked sheets. he slid his fingers out of you , rubbing up and down your folds for a moment before pulling away and letting you catch your breath for a moment. “fucking beautiful,” he chuckled , kissing into your neck as his hand moved up to your mouth.

you breathing was shallow as you let his fingers into your mouth , cleaning your juices off of him. “want you to fuck me,” you admitted , nibbling at jj’s ear with a giggle. god , you were so happy.

“it’s like you’re right out of one of my dreams,” jj groaned , sitting back on his heels and flipping you over with ease. you let out a yelp , shocked by how fast he maneuvered you around. it was his turn to laugh , just as giddy as you were. what a beautiful thing he had here with you.

his hands reached forward , gripping your hips and hoisting you up long enough for you to arch your back for him. one hand went to yank his swimming trunks down and tug at his throbbing cock. his other hand stayed on you , rubbing your ass , moving you back and forth for his viewing.

“you know i love you , right?” he wondered aloud , hand running up your spine slowly.

you turn your head over your shoulder , arms still stretched out in front of you , ass still in the air. “i love you more , jj,” you beamed back to him , reaching between your legs to grab him, “i’ve always wanted this.” your almost cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the confession as you situate the tip of him at your entrance.

it takes a minute for you to fully sink down on him , ass meeting his hips. when you do , jj lets out a matching curse to your whine. and it takes you another moment before you can start swirling your hips , bouncing yourself on him , letting him take a moment and relax.

your head falls forward , and you take a bite of your sheets to muffle the moans escaping you as you fuck yourself harder against jj. “fuck , baby! feel so good,” jj grunted to you , hands finding their place on your hips and taking over in administering your movements. he pulled you back and met you with his own powerful thrusts before adjusting to shove you flat onto the bed and just fucking into you.

“harder , baby. fuck your pussy harder!” you cried out , desperately trying to reach another climax by moving yourself on his cock the best you could.

“yeah? this my pussy?” he echoed after you , yanking your hair up to expose your face more which only opened your mouth wider for more cries to fall out. he pounded into you harder at your request , feeling his own release inch closer. you nod the best you can. “that right? this is your cock,” he added , accentuating his words with deeper thrusts, “only yours , baby. only you.” his words got weaker as his hips moved sloppier.

you knew he was getting close , and you were almost there. “cum in me!” you shouted, “cum in me , please. please , baby!” that was all it took for jj to double over , covering your body with his as his hips stuttered in and out of you. he kept going , overstimulating himself in efforts to get you off one last time and fucking his cum into you.

the sound of his fucked out whimpers sent you over the edge. “yes , yes , yes! fuckkk!” you cried , body heaving at the exertion. you two slowed down ; your breathing was loud in your ears , slowly faded out as you came back to your senses.

jj was still glued on top of you , littering kisses all over your shoulder. “i love you , y/n,” he whispered sweetly , nudging his nose into your cheek.

“i love you,” you smiled , finally able to hear the song that was playing now.

it was nearing ten o’clock in the morning. the sunshine was starting to creep into your room , past the sheer , lacey curtain you had hung up with jj earlier in the week.

jj was sleeping on his stomach , arm thrown tightly over your waist , holding you close to him. his head was resting on your chest , and light snores were coming from his mouth. your hand was still in his hair from the night before. and your covers were hardly doing their job of hiding your bodies at that point.

“hey , i checked the guest room , and jj wasn’t in there!” kie’s voice practically shook the walls of your house just before she opened your door , barging into your room.

you jolted awake at the intrusion , causing jj to stir as well. “kiara!” you yelled , not having ever used that tone of voice before.

your friend — upon seeing that jj hadn’t left , screamed and covered her eyes before slamming your door closed behind her. jj yanked the covers up to hide your bodies , reacting far too late for the situation.

“what the fuck!” he questioned , still half asleep and beyond confused.

“oh , my fucking god! kie’s here,” you curse , rushing out of bed and clothing yourself in the first options you see. jj’s left behind as you run after kiara , who hid in the living room to wait for you. “kie!” you shouted , looking for her as you came downstairs.

there she was , pacing back and forth while chewing on her thumb’s nail. you stopped and stared at her , and she looked up when she noticed you. “found jj,” she shrugged , flicking her hand up to the stairs where a half dressed jj stood , still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“it’s not what it looks like,” you lied , saying the first thing that came to mind despite it being exactly what it looked like.

jj’s quick footsteps rolled down the stairs. “how’d you get in here?” he asked , as if all of your friends didn’t have the alarm code to your house. as if you didn’t have breakfast planned for the morning.

“i was here to wake you harlots up so we could go eat!” she shouted , starting to pace again, “but i found my best friends naked in bed together!”

you wince at her volume. “kiki , let me just explain everything real quick,” you requested , taking a step toward her. you knew she wasn’t mad that you were hooking up with jj ; she knew how much you liked him. she was mad that you didn’t tell her. you were supposed to be best friends.

“explain that you’re a liar?” she scoffed , crossing her arms as she glared at you.

“hey!” jj was quick to step forward , point at your friend in warning not to talk to you that harshly, “love you , kie , but take a breath , dude.”

you silently thank jj , knowing you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to kie that way. you didn’t like having to raise your voice. “we didn’t tell anyone , okay?” you started, “it all just snowballed , and we just couldn’t find a good time to tell you guys. i think i kinda wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit anyway. keep it just for us?”

kiara had softened slightly , trying to hear you out. “why? i’m your best friend. we tell each other everything , y/n. this is , like , sort of a big thing to hide from me.”

“i know , and i’m sorry , boo,” you sighed , not wanting this to be a fight, “our friends , we all share everything. all the time. beds , food , drinks , weed , clothes , everything. this is the one thing that i’ve— we’ve had to ourselves. we got to enjoy it for it exactly as it is.”

“plus , i was also scared you’d beat me up,” jj added , trying to lighten to mood as he rubbed a hand up and down your back.

kie failed to stifle her laugh , hand covering her mouth. “okay , okay. i get it. you’re in your little honeymoon phase. whatever. just no more secrets , ‘kay?” she surrendered , grabbing your hands and swinging them with a smile.

you looked at jj , grimace rising on your face. “actually , we were planning on telling you guys on our , like , maybe three month anniversary…” you announced.

“oh , my god! i’m gonna have to keep this a secret for three months?”

[sometimesanalice]

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be. 

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza. 

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over. 

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps. 

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed  khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.  

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS - LN

lando x fewtrell!reader (cos who doesn't love a bit of brother's best friend?).

no content warnings for this part. pls lemme know what u think of this pls and thank u.

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

y/n was a bit of an enigma in the fewtrell family. yes, she’d grown up karting with her older brother and his best friend, but it wasn’t a career for her. not like it was for max, who took his love of karting to championships and content creation and especially not like lando, who made it all the way to F1.

no, y/n fewtrell wanted a career, for now at least anyway. which leads us to now, she’s sat in a second year lecture, not listening to a single word as a slew of messages from her brother almost vibrate her phone off the desk.

she didn’t really need to think about it at all, of course she’d be there. whilst she had no interest in her actually involvement, she loved motor sports, and loved supporting lando. the amount of times she’d been recognised in her uni towns sports bar, watching the F1, was getting concerning. not to mention the time she’d finished a 10 hour shift and somehow fell asleep in said sports bar, made worse and more recognisable to lando fans by the quadrant hoodie and LN4 beanie - max had not let her live it down since the moment the photo came on his twitter feed. it just seemed odd that lando all of a sudden wanted, no, needed her presence - after all, he'd had minimal contact with her for almost a year.

but, she weighed up in her head, getting to see lando was somewhat of a reward. yes spending the day with her brother would be good, although she could sense her summer would potentially be spent with him anyway. but lando, what could she say about lando. he was always around growing up, and yes admittedly there had been a few moments shared in her early adulthood that would indicate something more but it always remained unspoken. lingering touches here and there, the night they spent dancing together in a club, though written off as drunk friendliness, and most notably an interrupted moment where he whispered “max would kill me if he knew the truth”. y/n never got to find out what the truth was, as max himself came barrelling into the room, equally as drunk as everyone else at the gathering. from that night on, she barely saw or heard from lando, well, until now supposedly.

ultimately, y/n decided that dwelling on what could’ve been, whilst lando jets off around the world, was simply not worth it. she focused on her studies, and began declining offers to watch lando race on the other side of the world. y/n fewtrell was a strong independent woman who did not need the validation from her brothers best friend.

didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it.

as predicted, the academic year ended and y/n found herself moving a bag of clothes into max’s spare room. people started spotting her in the background of streams again, fans excited to see the fewtrell’s back together and in full force - y/n now adorning a lovely bruise down the side of her arm from where max had shoved her too hard off a chair and onto the floor. sore losers run in the family.

“MAX! that hurt,” y/n whined from her new found position on the floor.

“oh did it,” max asks mockingly, “sucks to be you i guess” he adds with a shrug, although letting her use his arm to pull herself back up.

he moved back to playing his game when a text popped up on her phone making her giggle.

“what? what are you laughing at?”

“lando said “push him back”. lando,” y/n said, looking at the camera, “if i could, i would - but i quite like having somewhere to live and my own personal chauffeur,” she laughed, max laughing with her.

a month later she was in the passenger seat of max’s car, him pulling in to park outside the silverstone track. it was hours before the public would show up, so she instantly spotted the curly haired man. yes, the bright orange jumper was like a bat signal for lando, but y/n’s eyes were immediately drawn to him naturally. max had just about pulled the handbrake on when lando bounded over to the car, pulled the passenger door open and lunged himself around y/n.

“you came! it’s been too long since ive had my little lucky charm in my garage,” he says, looking directly into her eyes. a red flush runs up her cheeks, hoping that the boys will put it down to the loss of air conditioning. any awkwardness she had anticipated between the two dissolved almost instantly.

“i know, i’m sorry. i should just drop out of uni and follow you around the world, i know. forgive me,” she jokes holding her hands up, and lando quirks an eyebrow up, as if saying “you should”.

“don’t do that, y/n. one of the fewtrell’s needs to be properly educated,” max jokes, ”besides, not having his lucky charm around all the time keeps his ego in check.” lando chuckles in response, finally moving to stand fully out of the car and allowing y/n and max to climb out and join him.

“so, home race in 2 days - how you feelin’ mate?” max asked lando, raising his hand to do one of those bro hand grabs. they continued talking, y/n trailing just behind them as they walked into the building and around to the mclaren area. it was always a spectacle, coming to races. the teams, the drivers, the media, the celebrations - it was somewhat overwhelming. it was weird to see the place so empty, then again, it was 7am on FP1 day so the only people walking around were the odd driver and mechanics.

they continued to walk through the paddock, y/n just listening to the boys discussing an upcoming quadrant project, eventually reaching his drivers room. the sofa looked so inviting, especially to the girl who was dragged kicking and screaming out of bed at 5am. whilst lando distracted max, showing him his helmet for the home race, y/n crawled over to the sofa, curled up in a corner and shut her eyes.

“y/n? you good?” lando asked, after clocking her new found position.

“shut up.”

“ouch.”

“she threatened to rip my eyeballs out and shove them down my throat this morning when i tried to get her up. being told to shut up is nothing,” max laughed, ruffling the top of his sisters head and messing up her hair, “she just likes her sleep.”

“yes, she does, please let her have it,” y/n mumbles bluntly, met with chuckles from the boys.

“we’re gonna get breakfast. ill bring you back something if you want to stay here?” lando asks, her eyes perking up at the thought of food.

“yes please,” she says, with a soft smile directed towards him.

-

“next time, me and you are getting separate hotel rooms,” y/n groaned, rolling around the sofa of her hotel room trying to get comfortable.

“next time, tell me you want to come with me early enough for me to book you a separate hotel room, y/n,” her brother grumbled back.

“i’m gonna see if there’s a gym here. i need to tire myself out if i’m going to sleep on this…thing,” she said, poking at the solid leather of the sofa.

max didn’t respond to his sister, instead he rolled over to face the door and shut his eyes. y/n grabbed her key card and her shoes, and walked out the door, happy to be away from her brother. she loved him, she really did, but after spending the entire day in lando’s small driver room with him - she really just needed some brother-free air.

she barely reached the lift at the end of the hallway when she got a text, diverting her entire plans for that evening.

i’m bored. come on a drive with me?

going on a late night drive with lando was not out of the ordinary, but usually max was there. had he sent max the same message? either way, she responded with a quick yes and thumbs up.

cool. im outside btw. hurry up.

have you just turned up assuming i was going to say yes?

was i wrong?

shut up im coming down now

[birdyisthewordyy]

HELLOOO this is my first request.. 😔

Like can you make a thing where the reader (please make it a fem reader for this one) is mascular fem reader and how the mouthwash crew will be react or be with the reader😻

if you can do this pleasee do it!! This has been just on my mind..

(I'm sorry if I couldn't describe it pretty well but I hope you understand it👅🙏)

a/n: I went ahead and combined two asks because they were pretty similar I HOPE THATS OKAY!! ANYWAY I love these askS MUSCULAR WOMEN FTW

Tulpar crew with a muscular! Fem! Reader

Curly

He can still lift you up easy peasy

Loves doing weightlifting with you

Brags on you

“My girlfriend can bench press 400!”

When you get sore he runs a hot bath for you

With rose petals and Epsom salts

Watches movies with you and gives you massages

Anything for his girl

You two have a friendly competition to see how much you can lift

The gym hates to see y’all coming

Or loves to

You kind of brighten up the atmosphere with your mushy couple junk

Y’all are matched in arm wrestling

You try every day

Never works

You just stay there with your arms shaking

Lol

He’s ecstatic to have another workout buddy though

Especially one that doesn’t take it as seriously as Jimmy

Jimmy

Speak of the devil himself

He’s jealous

Right off the bat he’s jealous of you

Because he could never achieve that physique

His metabolism is too fast

And it pisses him off

He eventually comes around

Makes underhanded comments sometimes though

Meanie

He might weightlift with you

You’re a good spotter he has to admit

Encouraging and all that

Despite how jacked you are you are pretty feminine

Which he enjoys

He likes that you dress up and do makeup and all that

And if you’re not he appreciates how…

Eugh

“Drama free” you are

One of those guys

Yikes

You love him though

Swansea

Swansea didn’t grow up in a generation where women could just pick up a weight and start growing muscle

Despite this he thinks it’s badass

He’d never say that but he does

Appreciates your commitment

Maybe even attracted to it idk

An excellent cook so he makes things for you if you’re hungry after lifting

Makes banger soups

He’s pretty strong himself

But doesn’t work out too often

Just enough and if he feels like it

He’s got a bad back so nothing crazy

Take this man to a chiropractor

If you use protein powder he doesn’t understand it

“Back in my day we had to work for what we got!”

You try to explain it’s not like steroids

But he is NOT having it

Sometimes you go overboard though

And he does worry for you

“Just…be careful, alright? Don’t want you exhausting yourself on me.”

Daisuke

Daisuke is also just a little bit jealous

He gets over it though

He buys you one of those giant water bottles that have words of encouragement on the sides

Says it’s like he’s there with you

You love this boy

Would be like

“Oh yeah? Can YOUR partner do 50 pushups? (Name), show em!”

Makes you personalized playlists

Eye of the Tiger is definitely on there

Along with Wheels on the Bus

He giggles when he hears it coming from your headphones

You just look at him like WTF

Would be your spotter

Very encouraging

“You can do it! Two more!”

Fists in the air

Tries to fist bump you

You are exhausted I fear

Would sit on your back while you do push-ups

To prove a point

What point? Idk

Anya

Anya has tried working out in the past and never really got into a routine

She’s a little bit out of shape so she’s at least happy that you know what you’re doing

Buys you sweatbands with pretty little designs on them

Also makes you protein shakes in the morning

Without you asking

May try to work out with you

Gets extremely sore though

Anya with a ponytail is cute tho

She can’t do push-ups

Like physically she just collapses

It’s not even that she’s weak

She’s actually quite strong physically

And mentally too but that’s not the point

She almost beat you once in arm wrestling

She just gets tired easily

Little chubby

Totally not projecting again

Hee hee

[moonlightspencie]

hands that make hell seem cold

Description: Friends to lovers, emphasis on lovers.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!: porn with almost no plot, p in v, brief mention of a breeding kink

Word Count: 3.2k

link to the spotify playlist

James took a deep breath, looking around his space.

He'd been cleaning all day long. Not really for any reason other than his mates coming over later that night.

He propped his hands on his hips, scrutinizing his own work for a moment.

"Good," he mumbled softly to himself, nodding as he walked back into the kitchen.

He busied himself picking up all the towels he'd used, and set a kettle on the stove for a cup of tea when he finished. He threw the towels in a hamper in the laundry room of his flat, and went back to the kitchen, waiting mindlessly on the kettle to start whistling.

Though, that's when he heard a knock on his door. He frowned a little, not expecting anyone over for another hour or two. He shuffled over to the door, opening it to see an unexpected face.

His smile grew. "Baby!"

"Hi, angel," she smiled back at him, walking past him and into his flat.

He chuckled, shutting the door, then turning to watch her take her shoes off very impatiently. He was practically bouncing by the time she finished and turned to him.

“Okay,” she opened her arms with a laugh, letting him practically tackle her.

He squeezed her into a crushing hug, knocking her off her feet, only protecting her from falling with the intensity of the embrace.

“James,” she chuckled, voice muffled by his chest. “You’re squishing me.”

“Mm,” he hummed absentmindedly, still holding her for a moment. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she said, then kissed his shoulder once as he loosened his grip. “But you know how things are. I’ve gotta visit home sometimes. My family does like to see me on occasion, you know?”

“I know, love,” he mumbled, kissing her forehead. “But can’t they just come here instead?”

“They do on occasion. But I love being home, even if I still want to be around you more,” she winked.

James giggled, squeezing her again. “You flatter me.”

“I know. That’s kind of the point, Jamie.”

James smiled, his cheeks a little rosy as he looked at her. It had really only been a couple of weeks since she’d been around, but it felt like forever. He’d always had a soft spot for the girl, but it seemed to have intensified in the past months. Sure, they were still friends, but… there was something else there. He just didn’t want to be the first to admit it. Lately, he’d been thinking about it, though.

He sighed softly. “Uh… the boys are supposed to be over tonight.”

“Oh! Well, that’ll be fun. I’ll make sure to head out before they show up, then.” 

“What?” He furrowed his brow in question.

“I’ll… make sure I’m not interrupting–”

“You’re not!” he cut her off, shaking his head.

Her brows raised, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “You sure?”

“‘Course I am! Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, shrugging a little. “Here, let’s go sit. I wanna hear all about your trip.”

He grabbed her hand, practically dragging her behind him to the living room. She shook her head in amusement, letting him pull her along without a hint of resistance until he’d sat them both down with not a centimeter of space between them.

“How were mum and dad?”

“Good, mostly,” she replied, not batting an eye as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Mom’s been a little under the weather, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. You held down the fort here without me, then?”

“Barely,” he feigned a pout. “Could’ve fallen apart if you were gone one more day.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed, leaning into him.

“Only ‘cause I love you.”

“Mhm,” she snorted. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Can’t help it.”

“You never can.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, then kissed her forehead again. “God, you got even prettier. What were they feeding you over there?”

“Nothing you’d like, I’m sure.”

He laughed. “Probably not. But seriously, love… wow.”

She snorted a laugh, looking at him curiously. “When did you become such a flirt?”

“Please, you love it,” he chuckled, then shot her a sideways glance. “You love it, right?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good,” he breathed out, then straightened up as a terrible whistling came from the kitchen. “Shit.”

She laughed as he shot up and hustled into the kitchen, following after him and watching as he grabbed his oven mit to take the kettle off the stovetop. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling to herself as he quickly pulled down two mugs and tea bags, preparing them both. He always put the tiniest bit too much sugar in hers, but she’d never complain to him. She accepted gratefully as he put a mug in her hand.

“There you are,” he muttered, then leaned against the counter. “Almost forgot that was on the stove.”

“Almost? James, you jumped up and practically ran in here.”

“...Shut up,” he hid a smile behind his mug, trying to take a sip before quickly moving away from the steam. “Hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” she muttered, barely thinking about it as it passed her lips.

His cheeks turned pink again. “You’re bound and determined to make me blush, aren’t you?”

“You’re cute when you blush,” she grinned, poking one of his cheeks. “You know I like to tease you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes in response, but there was no malice behind it. He sighed softly, then let his eyes wander back to her. “Seriously, how did you get hotter?”

“Oh, and I’m the one trying to make you blush, huh?”

He giggled again. “Maybe we’re both guilty.”

She hid a smirk, shaking her head at him again. She glanced down at her still-steaming mug, then back at his face. His wide eyes and his lip pulled between his teeth. She had decided that it was incredibly annoying how attractive he was. 

“James?”

“Yeah, love?” he responded immediately, his eyes widening in question.

She smiled again, unable to stop herself this time. “God, you’re fucking annoying. I say that with love.”

“Annoying?”

“You’re annoyingly hot.”

He looked away, his cheeks only warming further. He set his mug on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. A move that she thought was very distracting.

“Can I ask you a question, love?” he asked after a beat.

“Of course.”

He glanced at her again. “Well… what do you think of me?”

“Huh?”

“Like… duh, we’re friends. But… like..”

“Like…?”

“Do you think we’d be, like… good together?”

She quirked a brow. “As in…?”

He groaned. “Like us. Together.”

“You mean like… together?”

“Duh.”

“I mean– Well, I haven’t… I can’t say that I’ve never thought about it,” she admitted quietly.

He sighed softly, looking at her carefully for a few moments. She looked right back, unsure what to do next after that. He wasn’t quite sure either, turning over that information in his head. She set her mug next to his on the counter, not wanting to hold it if they were going to keep standing there having that kind of conversation. He watched her as she moved closer to set her tea down, feeling a little restless as her perfume wafted up to him in a wave.

“Fuck it,” he huffed out, moving to put his hands on her cheeks, crashing his lips into hers. 

Usually, he might not be so forward. But she was so fucking tempting, it was almost a crime to not kiss her at this point. And it felt good.

She froze up at first, a bit shocked that he’d gone and kissed her. Though, it didn’t take long before she gained her senses again and kissed him back like she was born to do it. He moaned into the kiss, nipping at her lip, pulling her flush against his body with his arms wrapped around her waist.

“James…” she mumbled against him, not really for any reason other than to feel his name on her lips.

He kissed along her cheek and jaw, mumbling in her ear, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathed out.

He groaned, biting her neck gently before sucking on the skin. He attached himself there until he’d left a dark mark, determined to make her remember how it felt to kiss him.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages,” he muttered, kissing all the way back up her neck.

“Really?”

“Yeah…” he kissed her lips again, then pulled back to look at her face. “I think… maybe for a year, now. You’re just… you know I’ve always thought you were hot.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to fuck me,” she laughed.

“Who said I did?”

She scoffed, her mouth dropping open. “You dick!”

He giggled. “Couldn’t help it. But… I definitely do. Really bad.”

She hummed, glancing down at his lips again. “So… a year, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“When did that start?”

He smirked. “When I realized my best friend was insanely hot and I was crazy to not want more. But… Well, the day we all went to the beach and I saw you in that itty bitty bikini definitely helped.”

“You perv,” she laughed, smacking his arm lightly.

“I already love your personality, what else was I supposed to say?” he defended himself with a chuckle.

“Whatever,” she snorted, pulling him back in and kissing him, much more softly this time.

He sighed against her lips, happy to finally know what she felt like in this way. He let his mouth open for her as she slid her tongue against his bottom lip, groaning into the kiss as he felt her tongue against his. He followed her lead for a moment before taking control of the kiss, backing her against the kitchen counter.

Her lower back hit the counter, and she smiled against his lips, letting him push her onto the counter. He stood between her legs, letting his hands travel up her thighs.

“What, are you gonna fuck me in the kitchen? Not super romantic, James,” she laughed.

“Mm. I’d take you anywhere. We’ll have time for romance later,” he replied easily, kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone.

His hands slid under her shirt, feeling her stomach. “God, you’re perfect.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it,” he asserted, pushing her top up and off of her, letting it drop to the floor. He took her in with a dreamy sigh. “Wow.”

She smiled. “It’s not that special.”

“Says you,” he glanced at her, scrunching up his face in distaste at her blase attitude about her body. His hands wandered over her skin, feeling her tummy, her ribs, her breasts. “You’re a damn angel, love.”

“You’re sweet.”

He hummed, tugging off his own shirt before going back to just feeling her. After a few moments, he couldn’t handle not seeing more of her. He let his hands wander again, reaching around her back to pull off that pesky bra. He let that drop onto the slowly growing pile of clothes on the ground. He reached up again, experimentally squeezing her breasts, feeling himself grow painfully hard against his jeans.

“See? This is all I could think about when you were in that stupid, gorgeous bikini of yours, love. And I was right. You’re incredible underneath it all,” he mumbled, locked in on feeling her chest. 

His mouth watered at the sight of her, topless on his kitchen counter. His pretty best friend perched up there just for him to see and feel. He started kissing down her chest, stopping at one of her nipples, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud before he sucked it gently into his mouth.

She let out a small, breathy sound as she watched him with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure from sucking on her. He looked so pretty and desperate like that. She ran a hand up his arm, tangling her hand in his hair. 

“God, you’re eager,” she breathed out, a small laugh passing her lips.

“You’re fucking sexy’s why,” he mumbled against her skin, moving his lips to the other breast.

She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut from pleasure as he kissed and sucked at her tits, gently groping one with his hand as his mouth worked over the other. He slowly started moving his lips down, kissing along her ribs and stomach.

“You’d look real pretty pregnant, you know? I’ve thought about that a few times,” he mumbled, nipping the skin of her stomach.

“James…” she groaned.

“Sorry love. Can’t help myself,” he apologized, though they both knew he didn’t mean it. “Just wanna make you mine, ya’ know? Plus, we’d have pretty babies.”

He smiled again as another sound left her lips, his hands working to tug off her pants. He pulled them down her legs, kissing back up her leg once he’d dropped the pants on the floor.

“As much as I’d love to taste you, doll, I think that might have to wait. If I start, I won't be able to stop,” he said softly, kissing up her thigh. “You even smell perfect.”

“God, James. You’re such a slut,” she smirked a little.

“Only for you, baby,” he said, his dimple poking in his cheek as he stood straight.

He cradled her head in his hands, looking over her face for a moment before he leaned in to kiss her again, his lips moving soft and slow over hers. She held onto his biceps as he kissed her, feeling them move and flex under her palms as he dropped his hands to start pulling off her panties. He did it slowly, teasingly, until he’d pulled them off her legs entirely, letting them fall to the ground. He pulled back from the kiss, looking over her bare body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, eyes trailing over her. “Pretty girl. I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too, Jamie.”

He kissed her again through a grin. “You’re the best friend ever, too. For the record.”

“I better be after this,” she laughed.

He chuckled along with her, pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. She let out a small noise of satisfaction, seeing him all naked and beautiful.

“God damn, James. No wonder the girls like you so much.”

He giggled at that. “I always thought it was my personality.”

“Sure,” she teased, pulling him in for another kiss.

He groaned into it, his hands wandering up and down over her body, feeling her soft curves under his skin. He let one of his hands reach down, slowly stroking his leaky cock, stepping closer to the apex of her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yeah. Please,” she nodded, breathing him in.

He shuddered, dragging himself along her slit before pressing at her entrance. He whined softly, barely pushing in.

“God…” he breathed out desperately, pressing his forehead against hers. He moaned softly, pulling a similar sound from her lips as he pushed into her, letting her heat envelop him. “You feel so good, love.”

“Yeah,” she groaned, her arms around his shoulders.

He pushed himself in all the way, a soft needy sound coming from him as he stilled for a moment before pulling out and repeating that motion slowly. They breathed each others’ air as James pushed his hips into hers slowly, almost teasingly, getting used to how she felt around him. He’d dreamed of fucking her a million times before, but there was nothing that could prepare him for how she really felt.

She dropped her head in his neck, feeling impossibly full. He wasn’t the biggest she’d ever seen in her life, but fuck if he didn’t feel like it. Not to mention the fact that his cock was gorgeous, and the mere thought of it dragging in and out of her had her feeling dizzy.

“Fuck, love,” he moaned, suddenly pulling her off the counter. “I need more.”

She chuckled breathily, though she whined softly as he pulled out.

“Wha–”

“Shhh…” he shook his head, spinning her around and bending her over the kitchen counter.

She let out a shuddering breath, a grin on her face as her breasts hit the cold counter, his hand pressing down on her lower back. He pushed back into her immediately with an animalistic grunt, picking up the pace immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he grit out, gripping her hips with one hand, pushing down on her back with the other. “Feel so perfect around me, baby.”

“Yes,” she moaned, her voice broken and needy as she pressed her hands against the counter, unable to do anything else.

He pounded into her, her hips hitting the edge of the counter with every thrust. Usually, he’d care much more about her safety and comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with the sweet sounds she made for him every time his hips snapped against her ass. 

“James,” she said, her voice whiny.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.”

“Already?” he smirked, pounding into her harder.

She merely moaned in response, her eyes fluttering shut again as he moved one of his hands around her neck. He didn’t put any pressure on her, but it forced her to arch her back more, letting him hit a slightly different angle.

“God, Jamie…” she whimpered, her body suddenly convulsing, pulsing around him without warning.

He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fucked her through it, loving the way she felt squeezing him like that. 

“Shit, baby,” he said through a gasp, his hips beginning to stutter in their movements.

He let her drop against the counter again, gripping onto her hips with both hands, pulling her back against him with every thrust. He lost himself in pleasure, pushing himself into her with vigor until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled out of her cunt, using his hand to stroke himself a few times before he was finishing on her ass, watching thick ropes of his cum cover her skin. He barely held himself upright as he watched it happen, breathing heavy from the effort until he was completely spent.

He braced himself on the counter with both hands. “Fuck, baby.”

She laughed softly through a whimper. “Y-yeah. Fuck.”

“You’re… God damn, love. You’re perfect,” he smiled to himself, catching his breath as he looked down at her body again. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this. All covered in my cum.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, chuckling quietly. “But… maybe get me a towel? It’s starting to get cold.”

“Gross,” he snorted a laugh, moving to get a towel from one of the cabinets in the kitchen, dampening it with warm water. “Good thing we’re in the kitchen. Easy to clean up.”

“I guess,” she laughed as he wiped her clean of his seed. “Maybe next time you can just cum in me.”

He paused, his eyes widening. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she nodded easily.

“Shit, you’re sexy,” he mumbled, finishing cleaning her off. “Okay, love. All clean.”

“Thanks,” she said, standing straight.

They looked at one another for a moment, both quite satisfied with what they’d done, before she started picking up her clothes.

“So… the boys will be here soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, laughing a little at her switch in topic. “Yeah, they will.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe an hour.”

She nodded, pulling on her panties. “How long are they staying?”

“Until dinner time, I suppose.”

“Cool…” she nodded with feigned nonchalance.

He smiled a bit, looking at her with a raised brow. “What have you got planned?”

“With you? Everything,” she smirked.

[puckinghischier]

Crowded

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets nervous in the crowd, but luke is right there to help her out of it

notes: i’m once again throwing a luke fic out into the world. i saw this request in my inbox and immediately thought of the zach bryan concert the boys just went to. i would literally give anything to attend a concert with them. i just KNOW they’re great concert buddies. sorry it’s kinda short, i just didn’t know how to drag it out any longer. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - Character A can tell Character B is getting nervous in a big crowd, so A slips their hand into theirs to help them calm down.

[2.8k]

You had been looking forward to tonight for months. From the second Luke surprised you with the tickets for your birthday, you immediately started planning an outfit, making a playlist, and anticipating the trip.

When he told you his brothers and a few friends were tagging along, it only made you more excited, enjoying every moment you got to spend with your boyfriend’s brothers and their hockey friends.

After the concert, everyone was driving over to stay at the lake house for a few weeks, enjoying as much of the summer together as they can before pre-season training starts. You couldn’t wait to have a few weeks of fun on the water, but also wanted tonight to last as long as it could.

Your excitement grew even more when you found the perfect outfit for the occasion, even buying a matching light-up cowboy hat off of Etsy. You were especially excited for the chance to wear your boots again, not having many excuses to wear them in Jersey.

Luke had his hand planted firmly on the small of your back, making sure not to lose you as you weave through the crowd. You had bought Luke a new shirt for tonight, the orange t-shirt matching the burnt orange color of your dress.

He leads you over to the crowded merchandise stand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. You struggled, loving every item tacked onto the display board. When you told him you couldn’t decided between a t-shirt and a hoodie, he bought you both before you could even open your mouth to protest, buying himself a hat and t-shirt as well.

“Luke, you just spent over $300 without even batting an eye,” you barked at him, crossing your arms to try and look menacing.

You know Luke could’ve afforded to buy you the entire stand and still not make a dent in his bank account, but you don’t like when he spends large amounts on you for no reason.

“Yeah, so?” he shrugs, taking your elbow and leading you away from the cloth covered table, slinging the clear bag of merchandise over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and huff at him, unfolding your arms and taking his hand, letting him lead you through the sea of bodies.

“’So?’”, you mimicked his response. “You didn’t have to buy half of the merch stand just because it took me more than three seconds to choose which shirt I wanted.”

He glances back at you over his shoulder. “The fact that you didn’t have your mind made up the second you saw the options means you clearly wanted both, so I bought you both.”

You reach over and pinch his side, mildly annoyed with how well he understands the way your brain works.

“Quit pinching me you little gremlin,” Luke hisses out, the nickname being one he uses when you’re being stubborn or annoying.

“Quit spending all of your money on me, you giraffe-man,” you fire back.

You can see his shoulder’s shake, your impromptu nickname for him amusing him.

He doesn’t respond right away, the two of you having made it to the entrance to your seats, walking up to the worker standing under the numbered sign.

The usher instructs you to show your tickets to one of the workers at the bottom of the set of stairs.

When you walk into the arena, you notice how large the space feels, the open floor and mostly empty seats creating the illusion of size.

Luke has to nudge you a bit, reminding you to keep walking, too in awe of the fact you’re actually here.

“Not so unhappy with me spending my money on you now, huh?” he leans down to whisper into your ear, making sure you can hear him over the roaring chatter.

You hit him lightly in the chest, a smirk on his face as the two of you walk down, showing your tickets to the usher once you reach the bottom of the stairs, a bright colored wristband with bold letters spelling out VIP FLOOR printed on each one.

You make your way over to a small, sectioned off area near the main stage, seeing the rest of your group already waiting for the two of you.

Jack is the first one to notice you approaching, his eyes lighting up and arms being slung into the air.

“It’s about time! We were starting to worry the two of you got lost!” he calls out, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads and call out greetings.

You smile, having missed those in the group that didn’t live in New Jersey.

Walking over to Quinn first, you give him a long hug, the last time you saw him being when he played his brothers in Jersey months ago. The frequent facetime calls the two of you share not being enough to scratch your Quinn itch.

“Quinnifer! I missed you!” you squeal as you squeeze him as tight as you can.

You can feel his chuckle as he squeezes you back. “I missed you too, Munchkin” he leans back, ruffling your hair.

Although you see Jack nearly every day back home in Jersey, Quinn is the brother you’re closest to. You and Jack are literally two peas in a pod, but there’s something about Quinn that made you feel comfortable with him from the moment Luke introduced the two of you.

He’s like the big brother you never had, always calling him when you need advice or need to complain to someone about Luke.

Anytime you have a particularly nasty argument with Luke, Quinn is the one you call. He always allows you say whatever you need to get out of your system before breaking the problem down and agreeing that his brother is an idiot, but that he also loves you with everything he has in him.

At first you tried to go to Jack with problems surrounding your relationship with Luke, but he clearly didn’t know how to help you. He either told Luke about your conversations, causing the argument to grow worse because Luke claimed Jack had no business knowing about what’s happening in your relationship, or he would shrug his shoulders and say “just don’t yell at him when I’m trying to sleep. I need my beauty rest.”

You swat Quinn’s hand away, trying to smooth down your now tousled hair.

“I see you dressed the goon, tonight,” he points out Luke’s orange shirt.

You turn your head to see him talking with Cole.

“Believe it or not, it was his idea,” you think back to after you bought your dress, trying it on for Luke once you came home from shopping with your girls. He loved the way you looked in it, his eyes widening the second you emerged from your walk-in closet.

He swallowed thickly, his gravelly voice choking out a “Did they happen to have a matching shirt? Because if you’re wearing that, I’m going to need something to match so everyone knows you’re there with me, not up for grabs.”

You blush at the memory, looking back over to Quinn.

“I always knew he was whipped, but damn you’ve got him down bad, huh?” he shakes his head, smiling in amusement.

“Wrapped around my little finger,” you hold up your pinky, wiggling it at Quinn with a giggle.

You feel a pair of arms snake their way around your waist, a heavy object resting itself on top of your head.

“What’s wrapped around your little finger?” Luke asks, his chin bumping against your scalp as he talks.

“You, duh,” you reply, moving your head forward and craning your neck to look up at him.

He looks between you and his older brother before uttering out a “Oh one hundred percent. Couldn’t unravel myself if I even wanted to,” he lets go of you, stepping up to stand beside you.

Quinn just laughs, bringing Luke in for a hug.

After you make your way around to greet everyone, the lights are dimming and the atmosphere inside of the arena changes.

You love the hum of excitement in the air, finding Luke and standing in front of him. You hear the first notes of Overtime as Zach Bryan comes onto the stage, screaming as loud as you possibly can.

Luke has a content, amused smile on his face as you scream out the lyrics, jumping and dancing around as the beat allows.

As the concert goes on, you make the switch from dancing with Luke to dancing with Jack, attempt to get on Quinn’s shoulders to get Zach’s attention, and slinging your arm over Cole’s shoulder to sway back and forth with him during one of the slower songs.

When it comes time for Zach to sing Revival, your favorite song of his, you beg Luke to leave your secluded area to get closer to the stage, wanting to experience being in the crowd for this one particular song.

He looks at you apprehensively, eyeing the large sea of people on top of one another, barely any room between the bodies pressed together. He worries about losing you in the crowd, your small frame allowing you to get swept away easily.

You tug on his arm like a little kid, repeating “please, please, please,” over and over again, assuring him you’ll be fine.

Luke eventually gives in, letting his brothers know where you two are going, claiming you’ll meet back up with them after the concert.

Grabbing your hand, Luke leads you off of the small platform and into the crowd, pushing his way as far up to the front as his large body will allow him.

You stop just a row or two of people away from the stage where Zach had just climbed onto, adjusting his guitar and microphone before starting the song.

As the song rang out around you, you sang along to every word, joining the rowdy crowd as the chorus starts.

You start to jump around in the small space you have, enjoying every second, until Zach walks his way over to the small portion of stage in front of where you stand.

As soon as his figure stands over the crowd around you, bodies start pushing against one another, everyone trying to get as close to him as they can. You feel yourself being shifted towards the metal barricade, not being able to fight against the rush of people.

You start panicking, whipping your head from side to side to find Luke. All you can see around you are strangers, not being able to move your body to look behind you. You have absolutely no control over your own body anymore, being stuck in-between a girl slightly taller than you and a man that has at least a hundred pounds on you.

Squeaking out a “excuse me,” and “can you let me out please?” you try to make your exit from the suffocating situation. Your eyes turn frantic when you realize that no one can hear you or cares to hear you. Your breath picks up, heart pounding in your chest.

You can feel the tears pricking in your eyes, not being able to regulate your breathing anymore, gasping hot air into your lungs as fast as you can.

You’re about to let out a scream, begging someone to pay attention to you and let you out of the mess you’re in, when you feel a familiar hand slip its way into yours.

Whipping your head around, you catch a glimpse of curly hair behind you, not realizing that the body pressed against your back has been Luke this entire time. You figured you had lost him when you were surged forward, unable to see him anywhere around you.

Your breath starts to slow slightly, knowing you’re not alone in this crowd easing some of your nerves. The feeling of your heart pounding is still present, not wanting to be in this situation one second longer.

Luke attempts to tug your body back towards him, but the impenetrable wall of people around you prevents him from doing so.

You manage to wiggle your way in a circle somehow, now facing Luke.

He takes one look at your frightened face and knows he has to get you out of here, now.

Pulling you towards him, he cages you in with is arms, your cheek pressed to his chest. He starts walking backwards, his hockey roots coming in handy as he all but body checks people out of his way. The two of you finally make it to the back of the large crowd, Luke not letting go of you until you were back over in your original section.

Quinn was watching the whole thing from the small platform he was stood on, about to walk over and fish you out himself before he noticed Luke’s head slowly moving backwards, away from the stage.

He can see you’re still shaken, walking over to meet the two of you at the top of the ramp.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Quinn asks, concerned about how frightened even Luke’s face looks right now.

“No, she’s fine. Just shaken up, I think. She got trapped between a random girl and some dude at least triple her size,” he tells Quinn, running his hand down your hair in soothing motions. Your hands were still clutching his t-shirt, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

Quinn stares at your trembling figure the whole time, knowing you don’t want to leave Luke’s embrace but wishing he could do something to help you.

“Let’s get her out of here and to the car, yeah?” Quinn suggests, picking up yours and Luke’s bag of merchandise off of the floor of the platform.

Luke just nods, leading you back down the ramp.

Quinn steps over and let’s everyone know to just meet them in the parking garage before following yours and Luke’s intertwined bodies towards the nearest exist.

Luke manages to get you up the stairs and out into the outer ring of the arena without letting you go. Both pairs of your feet moving in tandem, not once risking tripping over one another.

He leads you out of the doors and into the cool night air.

You finally allow yourself to leave his embrace, instantly feeling better in the openness of the outdoors. Never letting go of his hand, you continue to let him lead you to the large garage.

Luke’s BMW sits right where he parked it, the loud beep echoing in the dark garage as he unlocks it.

He opens the passenger door, lifting you slightly to sit you down on the leather seat. His hands come up to your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the stray hairs that were sticking to the damp skin under your eyes.

“All good now?” he asks you, the frantic look of your eyes now gone.

You nod, looking into his concerned eyes. “M’alright. Just got scared. Too many people,” you mumble out, leaning into Luke’s palm slightly. “Sorry I made us go out there. Just wanted to have fun.”

Luke leans his forehead against yours, shaking it back and forth slightly. “No, it’s not your fault. Just bad timing is all,” he assures you, knowing how upset you’re going to be when you realized you missed most of the last song.

He pulls his head back, standing back to his full height outside of the SUV.

You notice Quinn standing a few feet away, letting you and Luke have your space.

Frowning, you call out to the eldest Hughes. “You didn’t have to leave early too, Quinny.”

Quinn looks over when he hears you address him, walking closer to the vehicle.

“Ehh, show was almost over anyways,” he waves you off. “Had to make sure my favorite little munchkin was okay,” he shrugs, telling you its no big deal.

You smile at him, thankful you not only have your boyfriend to look out for you, but Quinn as well.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Both of you,” you look between the two brothers, only ever seeing how alike they look when they’re standing in front of you.

They both tell you it’s not necessary, the main priority being that you’re safe and sound outside of the arena.

“Fine, I guess that means neither of you want to stop for post-concert pancakes on the way to the lake, then?” you tease, watching both of their heads snap up. All three brothers’ secret love of sweets is something you use to your advantage, only ever having to mention how good ice creams sounds before Luke and Jack are ushering you out of the door and driving you to the nearest ice-cream shop.

“Well, I guess if you really just feel the need to do something nice for us…” Quinn trails off, making a smile break out on your face, unable to hide the laugh at the sudden switch up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you continue to laugh at the pair, Luke leaning in to buckle your seatbelt for you as Quinn climbs in the backseat, sending a quick text to the rest of your group, telling them if they want to join in on the pancake outing, they need to be making their way out of the arena, and fast.

[nectardaddy]

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

when a strange woman races him in the middle of the night - and wins - he simply doesn't know what to do with himself.

pairing: k. sakusa x fem!reader

content: smau, formula drift au, street racer reader, timeskipped characters, friends to lovers, mutual pining but they're both too dumb to realize, some car/drift jargon, I only included characters that look like car guys to me, written parts are probably wordy as fuck

series content warning: mdni!, illegal street racing, dangerous activities, language, sexual mentions, drinking, everyone is probably ooc [more may be added, check each chapter for warnings]

COMPLETED

[🏎️] used for chapters with written parts

bonus: sakusa's playlist | yn's playlist | vibes

drivers: fast and furriest | baby got track

one: rematch

two: big girl pants

three: boss level germ [🏎️]

four: group chat nightmare

five: painfully awkward [🏎️]

six: a way with words

seven: bat outta hell

eight: no faith [🏎️]

nine: really? [🏎️]

ten: fucked up [🏎️]

eleven: bad mood

twelve: terrible timing

thirteen: parking garage [🏎️]

fourteen: half - assed [🏎️]

divider by @/saradika

[taintandviolent]

new tattoo ; Eric Draven x Reader

summary: You’re visiting your friend, Chance, for a new tattoo; a chest piece. While he's working, one of his friends comes over to chill; someone you've never seen before. His name is Eric Draven.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, unprotected sex, kissing, canon divergence/alternate universe (technically), neck kissing, tattoo needle mention, sex in someone else's apartment, hook-ups.

a/n: Shelly doesn't exist in this -- all in the name of reader getting fucked good n' hard. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It’s been about an hour since Chance started on your newest tattoo; a beautiful chest piece of a bat, nestled perfectly below your breasts. The room is filled with the hypnotic buzzing of the tattoo gun, and whatever music is playing on his speakers. You tap your fingers on the table beneath you, a staccato rhythm against the smooth leather.

The light is angled over your chest, illuminating the nakedness of your torso for Chance – who is completely unfazed by the lack of clothing. He’s working, and despite doing tattoos out of his apartment, he is ever the professional. You, on the other hand, enjoyed flashing your tits whenever you got the opportunity. You could’ve brought pasties, sure, but why bother? He’s already tattooed spiderwebs around your nipples, it’s not like this is something new.

Knock knock knock. Your eyes move first, but your head follows stiffly, careful not to move your torso too much and cause an error. 

“Do you wanna’ get that…?” You ask. Chance shakes his head. 

“It’s open!” He shouts without pulling his attention from your tattoo. A thrill runs through you; whoever is about to open the door is going to get an eyeful. 

The man that walks through the door stuns you. Literally. It takes everything in you not to let your jaw hang slack like a fool, like a teenage girl who has just seen the hot new guy. He’s tall, easily surpassing six feet, wears a black jeans, and a sheer tank top that allows you to see through the fabric, letting you see all the ink that decorates his toned torso. Your eyes dance over his tattoos, wondering passively which ones Chance did. You recognize his style in quite a few pieces. Your gaze holds a weighted bias; you do love an inked up man. But even if he weren’t, you think your reaction would be the same. 

“What’s up, man?” 

“Nothing,” he says casually, his voice low and smooth. There’s a sadness there, something that you want to reach your fingers into and pull out, but you refrain, watching him quietly as he approaches the couch to your left. 

Chance pauses, pulling the gun from your chest, to introduce you to the nameless friend.  He fist bumps him and nods to you. “This is Eric.” 

“Hi Eric,” you say with an obvious, enticing smile in your voice, extending your hand nonchalantly upwards to him. You don’t seem to shy away from the fact that your tits are just… out, but Eric seems daunted by the visuals – god, is he shy? Your stomach clenches at the thought. The way he’s desperately trying to avoid looking at them is cute, and you feel your smile widen further. You let out a tittering laugh, and push your hand closer to him, urging him to take it.

“It’s okay, they’re kind of unavoidable right now…” you confess, assuring him that any glances won’t be met with a smack across the face. Secretly, you welcome them, wanting his pretty green eyes to trail over every inch of your body until he has it memorized, or can’t resist touching you. Either or. He chuckles, breathily, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle shake. Like the rest of his body, his hand is covered in tattoos, and you can’t help but play with his long fingers as he pulls away. As your hands break apart, you suppress the urge to reach for it again, pulling it back to you. Eric takes his place on the sofa, grabbing a cigarette from the pack that lies on the table. You hear the flick of the lighter, and the familiar scent fills the room.

Chance’s hands return to your chest, laying carefully atop your skin. The hypnotic puncturing of the tattoo needle lulls you into a relaxed state, but every time you look over, Eric’s enchanting green eyes dart away, feigning innocence. He looks at the window, Chance’s bookcase, anything that isn’t you. Each time, you smile, feeling like the butterflies in your stomach are going to rupture through the layers of your skin.

When you finally catch him, his eyes are sweeping along your body, watching as your chest rises and falls with each breath, watching as Chance draws on your skin, creating a permanent piece of artwork to be admired, though you gather that he’d rather admire the artwork that was your body. After painting your form with his gaze, his eyes finally meet yours, and as though by supernatural force, you hold him there, squeezing as tightly as you possibly can. He doesn’t look away, and you blink your eyes slowly, affectionately, like a cat. Eric’s full, pink lips pull up in a crooked smile, and he looks down at his hands, nodding softly. You wonder what he just agreed to in his head. There’s an undeniable draw to him, a pulling sensation deep in your stomach, and you think, with the way his eyes dance over your face, he feels it too. 

Chance interrupts the staring contest going on between the two of you. “Alright, I think we’re finished. There’s a full length mirror in the bathroom.” 

Carefully, you sit up and scurry to said bathroom. There’s a few moments of silence until it’s shattered by a high-pitched squeal; your reaction can be heard throughout the apartment. The bat is hanging perfectly between your breasts, clinging to a crescent moon, and looking so real that it might just flap away at any moment. 

“Chance!” You rush back into the living room, and clap your hand over your mouth for a moment before speaking. “Chance, oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much!” 

“What do you think?” You turn around, bouncing on your heels excitedly. Eric’s pupils dilate, black amongst the green. He watches as your ample cleavage jiggles with your enthused little steps, and makes a fist on his knee. You can see the wheels turning as he coaches himself to focus on the tattoo, to stop staring at your tits and actually comment something useful. 

“It’s really sick, man. Nice work.” 

Chance thanks him with a handshake before tapping the table again. He has a piece of Saniderm on his lap, cut to size and ready to cover up your new ink. Eric watches, knowing the process well. 

Once you’re sealed up, you hop off the table and reach for your shirt and the wad of cash that’s tucked in your pocket. You pass the cash to Chance, and shake out the tank top. Eric almost seems sad to see you get dressed, watching silently as you pull the sheer grey tank top over your head – as though it really covers anything. It’s sheer enough to see the tattoo through, and your nipples are two peaks in the fabric. 

“Hey, I’ll be back. I gotta do a tattoo downtown. You guys gonna chill here?” 

You both exchange a glance, and seeing nothing wrong with that proposal, you shrug. Eric nods his head. “Sure, we’ll hang here.” 

“Cool, cool. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” 

And just like that, you two are alone. The silence hangs heavy between you two, an adolescent awkwardness crackling in the space between your bodies. You clear your throat. He raises his attention to you, brows lifted on his forehead. 

“So… how about a tattoo tour?” 

“A… tattoo tour?” He asks, confused. 

‘Yeah, y’know. I show you mine, you show me yours.” You pause, looking into his eyes, letting the innuendo land as heavy as he allows it to. “What they mean, where we got them, so on and so forth.” 

“I get tattoos because I like them… a lot of mine are just…” 

“I don’t care,” you say, standing up. “I want to see them.” 

He stands up, and you crane your neck to look up at him. Now that you’re next to him, the size difference is staggering. “Holy fuck, you’re tall.” 

He chuckles, and tosses his shirt on the sofa. You mimic the action, tossing your own shirt over to join his. Taking it a step further, you pull your grey sweats down your hips and step out of the circles. You take a step closer, fingers outstretched to touch him. You start at his hairline. 

“Face tattoos... crazy. Commitment is off the charts.” 

Again, he laughs. 

“To someone?” Bold. Your fingers continue their path over his shoulders.

He shakes his head solemnly, fingers trailing over a quote on your forearm. “No. Not to anyone.” 

So he’s single. Good. His hands scan over your tattooed arms, ghosting over the flesh like a nervous lover. His thumb rubs over the tattoo just before the crook of your arm – a portrait of a cat. 

“My cat. She died.”

He furrows his brows, knowing the staggering sensation of loss. You hum, and continue your exploration of his body, digits gently raking over each piece of artwork that decorates his toned physique. Your fingers trail over the giant eye that stares at you from his sternum, trailing over the rays that come off it. You ghost over his biceps and his highly-inked forearms, your fingertips tasting each tattoo. 

Finally, you reach his torso, his abdomen. All taut skin and muscles. He reaches between your breasts, lightly tracing the new addition. It’s still tender and warm underneath the plastic. He smiles.

“Why is good crossed out?”

“Hm?” He looks down. Your finger hovers over the GOOD BOY tattoo.

“Are you not a good boy?” You ask, dropping the pad of your finger to his skin, and outline the words carefully. “Why’s it crossed out?” 

His cock stirs in his jeans at your delicate touch. It doesn’t help that you’re so close to him. “I don’t think I am, no. Not with all the shit I’ve done.”

A laugh tumbles from your lips and your hand trails farther down, caressing the centipede that curves past the waistband of his jeans. You long to go deeper, but in a shocking act of good behavior, you start to let your hand drop to your side. Eric’s large hand catches it at the wrist, encircling it with ease.

“Don’t… stop… please?” 

Your eyes light up with a tantalizing mixture of lust and disbelief. 

“Eric,” you mutter almost tauntingly, tasting his name on your tongue. “I can’t see the rest. You’ve got clothes on…” 

The statement is a weighted one, but it’s also factual; the clothes are impeding you from seeing the inevitable ink that decorates his lower body. His gaze drifts from yours to the couch again, before he takes long, careful steps, dragging you with him. His grip is soft but stern, his fingers circling your wrist like a shackle. 

“Sit with me.” His voice is soft, subdued, barely above a whisper and dripping with an eroticism that you want to wrap yourself in. Instead of pulling him next to you, he pulls you harshly down on top of him. Your legs spread on either side of his hips, straddling him. Between your legs, pressed against the fabric of your jeans is a growing stiffness. You look at your bodies, pressed together and spot the bulge in his jeans, considerably more prominent than before. You laugh through your nose – it’s a giddy chuckle, one that tumbles out of your mouth with an elation behind it. Hearing your laugh, Eric looks up, his brows pulling together. 

“I don’t usually do this,” he confesses. You can tell, he’s worried you’re laughing at him, poking fun at his desperation – which couldn’t be farther from the truth. To remedy that, you lean down and press your mouth against his pouted one, feeling the firmness of his chin against yours. It takes a moment, but eventually, his soft, pink lips relinquish and press back against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He grants it, and your tongue swipes along his, teasingly. 

He’s warm against you, the heat comes off his skin in waves. You wrap your arms around his neck and tug your body closer like you’re trying to melt together. His hands find your ribcage and sink downwards, trailing over the curve of your waist, and the gentle flare of your hips. You shudder into his touch, contentedly. His hips twitch up into you, pressing his hardening cock into your heat. 

“Eric,” you breathe into his open mouth. “I think you’re really hot.” 

He nods against your lips, wordlessly agreeing that the feeling is mutual. You inhale his scent as it mingles with your own and pull back, resting your forehead on his. 

“I wanna’ see the rest of your tattoos…” you whisper. Your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the dark strands gently.

Eric separates from you, just enough to bring his hand up between your bodies, to cup your cheek, completely enveloping it with its size. He looks at you, memorizing all the features of your face. He seems satisfied with whatever he sees, and pulls you back in for a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping out to wrestle with yours. 

Your hands are the ones that are wandering now, finding the button of his jeans. Breaking the kiss to free his cock, you pause to admire it. Framed by a thatch of dark hair, it’s long like the rest of him, and the head already weeps with anticipation. You pull his jeans down his hips and underneath his ass, tugging until they’re pooled at his ankles, over top his combat boots. His legs are heavily tattooed too, but your attention is elsewhere. Greedy to feel the warmth in the palm of your hand, you reach forward, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your thumb swiping over the tip. Just as you expected; throbbing, velvet warmth. As your thumb spreads the bead of precum down the head, down the length of it, Eric’s breath hitches. 

You look up. 

He’s watching you. Intently. His eyes are locked on your hand as it moves, teasing him. Like he feels your gaze on him, without moving his head, he looks up at you. There’s a deep, deep longing in his eyes, a desperation and a plea to continue… he’s begging without saying a word. He longs for the comfort of pleasure, of knowing someone intimately. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been with someone, how long his apparent loneliness has consumed him.

Taking a breath, you let go of his dick and straighten up. Your fingertips scrape along your own hips, dipping underneath the elastic of your underwear, catching them on your hand. You continue sliding your hands down your legs, taking your underwear with them. Once you're free of them, Eric’s eyes flicker from tattoo to tattoo, but come to rest on your face, looking deep into your eyes. You suck your bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and return to the couch, straddling him once more. Tenderly, he kisses a heated line from your neck down to your breasts. His lips press against one of the aching, swollen peaks before drawing it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. You look down, watching him and let out a particularly pornographic whimper. It feels so fucking good… he’s so attentive.

You’re on your knees, but he’s big enough to reach you, even there. Eric’s dick twitches against your aching center, twitches up between your folds. You whimper, nodding, granting him whatever permission he needs. It’s enough, because he reaches down, taking himself into his hand, and after a few strokes, he lines it up with your wet slit. He kisses you as he pushes himself into you, as though it lessens the shock of his thick cock as it breaches your slick heat. Your jaw comes down, poised in a silent scream as he splits you open, finding comfort within your clenching walls. 

He jerks his hips once, burying himself all the way inside. A deep, throaty groan erupts between you two, and you wrap yourself around him tight, supporting yourself on his neck. You raise yourself off his cock slowly, feeling the slick tug as it slides out. Your walls clench around it like they’re desperately trying to pull it back in, and you grant them their wish, slamming yourself back down on his cock with a high-pitched whine. You find a quick rhythm of bouncing on his cock, and Eric tenses underneath you, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Oh my god.” 

You nod, already breathless. Though you’re in control of the speed, his cock is bullying, and the tip kisses your cervix every time you lower down onto it. Your breaths are replaced by moans as you ride him, bouncing on his length with reckless abandon. 

Mid-movement, Eric suddenly grips your hips tight, freezing you in place. You look down at him, pupils blown wide with lust, but perplexed. He’s focused on your cunt with his debauched expression; slack-jacked and heavy lidded with lust. He bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with a renewed fervor. You jerk forward, collapsing into his shoulder. Silently, you thank god for the music that’s cutting the heavy sound of his hips as they slam against you and the wet squelch of your cunt as it swallows him whole, otherwise, you’d be almost embarrassed. You hold yourself up on your knees, letting Eric do the work. 

“Fuck yeah, baby… you feel so fuckin’ good…” he growls, one hand slithering around to grip the firmness of your ass. He kneads the soft, pliable flesh with his massive hand, pulling a desperate, whimpering moan from your lips. He feels so good. Your senses are consumed with him; the way he looks at you, hungrily, deeply, like he’s trying to unravel you from the inside out. The way he smells, cologne, the faint lingering scent of cigarettes, and the heady mix of mutual sex and sweat as he continues his assault on your dripping cunt. The way he feels, fucking into you with an insatiable hunger, like he’s trying to get deeper than he actually can. Everything about him is consuming you and you quickly feel yourself growing obsessed with him. 

The coil in your stomach winds tight around itself, a building pressure deep in your core. Your breaths are ragged, broken with pleasurable whines and moans, as he buries himself inside you over and over again. 

“Fuck, Eric… fuck, don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…! Shit!” 

His hand abandons its place on your cheek and comes to rest between your legs. His middle and ring finger slide down to your entrance, feeling his own cock as it slides in and out; slick and coated in mutual arousal. He grits his teeth, bringing some of the slickness around to your clit, where he encircles it with tight movements with his thumb. Electricity courses through your veins, and you shudder at the explosion of white, hot  heat on your cunt, your eyelids fluttering shut in bliss. 

You feel his muscles draw up tight as he slams into you with one final, hard thrust. His cock twitches as he releases, pumping his essence deep inside your cunt. You feel it flood you and leak out the sides, running down your thighs and dripping heavily onto his. Languidly, Eric thrusts his cock up into you, feeling every clench, fucking the cum back up into you as it dribbles out. The feeling of that paired with his ministrations on your cunt makes you come. Hard. You let out a deafening moan as your spasming walls clamp down on his cock, milking it as your own orgasm washes over you. You seize up, back arching with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red, indented crescent moons amongst the ink. 

“Fuck m-me… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eric!” 

Eric’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, still coming down off the high of the fuck. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and you run your hands along the length of his torso, scraping your nails against the skin. 

“That was fuckin’ amazing,” he pants, his hands coming to rest atop your thighs. His cock softens inside you, and you almost don’t want to move. But… this isn’t your apartment and while Chase has seen your tits, he hasn’t seen you fully naked and it’s going to stay that way. 

You lift up, letting Eric’s heavy, flaccid cock fall from your cunt. You wince as you straighten up, backing off the couch carefully. Your lips are spread in a delighted smile, watching Eric as you dress yourself, pulling your clothes back onto your sweaty, fucked out body. Eric reaches down to pull his jeans back up, tucking himself into the confines of the fabric. 

You plop down next to him, laughing lightly. “That was really great. I don’t think I’ve gotten fucked like that in a long time. Maybe ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever.”

By the time Chance gets home, you’re both asleep on the small sofa, back to chest, and Eric’s arm wrapped sleepily around your waist. Chance knows what’s happened, but he doesn’t mention it when you wake up.

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

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╹synopsis :: good luck appears suddenly, even if it's just for little while, but there is always hope and faith for another tomorrow.

╹contents :: MAP OF THE SOUL PT. 2, 2.4k words, fluff + angst, KAISER BACKSTORY TW: physical abuse, alcohol.

╹taglist :: @chaosinanutshell @rinitoshisgirl @thebluelockroyals

Closing the door as he heard a glass breaking once he stepped outside in the sun that shined upon him, giving some type of warmth as he put the black hood over his head walking away from the so called 'home'. As Michael strolled through the neighborhood, the faint jingle of a bell caught his attention. Pausing, he realized the sound ceased whenever he stopped. Strange, the boy though and continued walking, the bells chiming anew as he moved forward. Turning, he spotted a sleek black cat with a white collar and a bell attached to it.

A lost cat? Kneeling down, he inspected the collar, discovering the cat's name, Felicity, and a phone number. Too bad he didn't have a phone to call and get the cat out of here. Well, there's nothing for me to do. He patted the cat on the head, got up and continued to walk aimlessly leaving the animal behind. Michael was now a little further away, and there was no sound of the tinkling of a bell. Maybe the cat found its owner already and is taken care of by receiving treats and pats.

Speaking of treats his stomach rumbled, and before he went out, he took a little bit of his savings in case of getting hungry. It was strange for him to go into the store and buy something instead of stealing it like his father wanted him to do. He took the most ordinary sandwich with ham, cheese and some sauce. When he was at the register paying, he saw the candy Y/N gave him as a reward — he will keep the location of the sweets in mind.

Walking out of the store, holding the soccer ball in one hand and the sandwich in the other, the blonde boy made his way to the playground where he first saw the girl two weeks ago, and sadly he hadn't seen her since. Well the boy can't blame her — she probably went to school and has other close friends to hangout with, something he doesn't have. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the graffiti wall he began to eat, until suddenly the sound of a bell was heard again.

Michael looked up, his eyes locking with the familiar black cat from earlier. She mewed at him, her white collar glinting in the sunlight as she approached rubbing at his leg. He couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "You again, huh?" he murmured, tearing off a piece of ham from his sandwich and offering it to her.

The cat wasted no time, devouring the ham eagerly. Once they both finished their meal he got up and without hesitation, started dribbling and kicking the ball around. To his surprise, the cat seemed intrigued, her paw batting at the ball whenever it came close. It reminded him of someone, though he couldn't quite put his finger on who. Michael took a break, sitting back against the wall and Felicity wasted no time in curling up in his lap, purring contentedly as he stroked her fur. It was a rare moment of peace for him, every time he goes out it's his free time from the prison with the awful guard that stayed in. He cherished moments like that more than anything and he wished to see Y/N again, so they can play together and maybe win another pack of candy.

As he enjoyed the quiet moment with the cat, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning his head, he saw the angel in disguise running towards him, clutching a poster in her hand that had a photo of the now sleeping pet. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her bright smile and eyes that were glossy, Did she cry?, he wondered but her sad face was quickly replaced upon seeing the boy.

"Michael!" the girl exclaimed, relief evident in her childish voice as she reached him. "Thank you for finding Felicity! I was so worried to where she could have gone."

A smile graced Michael's lips as he realized the cat belonged to her. No wonder it reminded him of someone he knew. "I didn't know it was yours," he admitted, still patting the sleeping feline. "She just followed me all day."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "She has this habit of following people, though it was only family members and not one of my friends." The word friends echoed in Michael's mind, stirring something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. He looked into Y/N eyes, feeling something that he had never imagined to exist, as if he was lost in the galaxy with millions of stars to explore, falling deeper and deeper into the black holes, losing himself. What's this feeling? Why is my heart beating so fast? He couldn't figure it out, what's happening inside him, and why is she the reason for it?

"And you know animals can sense if a person is good or not, so she chose you for a reason." Michael couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth at your words, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm glad I could help," he replied softly, his gaze still locked with yours. "And I'm glad you were here, because I was going to ask you to help me, but there is no need anymore."

There was a moment of silence between them, Michael shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. But before he could gather his thoughts, Y/N spoke again, her voice gentle and caring.

"Michael, are you okay?" she asked, eyes searching his face with concern. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

For a moment, panic gripped Michael's chest as he instinctively reached for the hood of his jacket, pulling it over his head to hide the scar his father had left that morning. "I fell very hard on the ground while dribbling," he lied, of course he would lie not to make her worry about his personal matters and mostly not to scare her, because what if she tells her parents about him being abused? It will not end well.

The girl frowned, clearly not convinced by his answer. But instead of pressing further, she reached into her bag and pulled out some pink bandages. "Sorry, it's the only color I have left," apologizing, a small smile playing on her lips as she gently applied the bandage to his forehead.

Michael's heart swelled as he watched Y/N tend to him with such care and kindness. Despite his best efforts to keep his struggles hidden, she always seemed to see right through him, offering comfort and support without hesitation. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more and more with each passing day.

As she finished bandaging his wound, Michael couldn't help but meet the girl's gaze once again, his eyes soft and vulnerable — a child's look. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but it was genuine.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N lips as she reached out to tuck a hair behind his ear, wanting to see his beautiful and gentle face. "Anytime, Michael, friends help eachother."

For twelve year old he thought she was very mature, always so kind, so gentle — a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world. He couldn't help but be jealous at her innocence and grace, hoping that she would never lose that spark, unlike him, cursed by the mistakes of two adults.

"Also I'm sorry for not showing up, I know you must have been waiting for me"

He just stared at the girl slowly nodding his head acknowledging what she said but he wasn't mad, not even in the slightest. The cat who slept in Michael's lap woke up and went to her owner "Felicity don't you run away like that!" Y/N scolded the cat but of course the animal just let out a 'meow' as she laughed enjoying a moment with her pet then she looked back at Michael who was still staring.

"Hey, Misha, do you want to play tomorrow?"

"Misha?" Y/N giggled, noticing Michael's uncertain expression at the nickname. "Sorry, is it okay if I call you Misha? It just popped into my head, and it's kinda cute, don't you think?"

Michael blinked, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he processed her words. "I mean, sure, yeah," he replied, his voice softening at the end. Looking doen kicking the ball with his feet to distract himself from the burning tension in his body. He couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the sound of her calling him by that name.

Y/N grinned, delighted by Michael's response. "Great! Misha it is then." She scooted closer, her excitement bubbling over. "So, tomorrow, let's meet at the playground at 14:00. We can play some soccer, swing on the swings, and I can give you the cookies I made. What do you say?"

Michael's heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with Y/N. "Yeah, that sounds cool," he said, his smile widening. "I'll be here."

As they continued chatting, Y/N suddenly leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hey, Misha, can I ask you something more?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Y/N hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to ask, "Um, do you have a phone? I thought maybe we could exchange numbers so we can call eachother for when to play."

Michael's cheeks flushed even deeper as he nervously played with the ball. "Um, actually, I don't have a phone," he admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. "Sorry."

Y/N's smile didn't falter as she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it," she reassured him "We can still meet up here at the playground whenever we want to hang out, okay? And if anyone of us doesn't show up we can always see eachother the next time."

A sense of relief washed over Michael as he gazed into Y/N's comforting gaze. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, feeling grateful for her understanding. With a bright smile the youngster nodded, her eyes filled with happiness. "See you tomorrow at 14:00 then?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," the young boy replied, his smile matching hers as they made plans for their next date. Y/N and Michael stood facing each other as the silence fell, but it was calm and pleasant, not oppressive as if they were expecting some monster to come out of nowhere.

"Thanks for looking after Felicity," Y/N said softly, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on Michael's cheek, it was a tender action, making him melt on the spot, something so simple meant a lot — it was his first kiss, his first touch filled not with anger and hatred but instead of love and care. She was causing his heart to flutter even more, was it not enough for his heart to beat so fast earlier?

"It was no problem," Michael replied, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. With a shy smile, she turned to leave, her cat cradled in her arms. Watching her go, feeling a sense of longing already creeping into his chest as he didn't want this moment to end, not now, not ever. Michael touched his cheek gently, still feeling the warmth of her lips lingering there, is this what it feels like to be blessed with angel's grace? He hopes he will get to experience it again. Realizing he was standing alone in the fading light, the sounds of laughter and play fading into the distance.

He took a deep breath and he was infront of his home, his heart now heavy with the weight of the inevitable goodbye and the welcoming sounds of glass breaking.

Opening the door he was met with his drunk father who was watching TV but he didn't seem entertained and the bottles and trash on the ground made it for the energy in the house. But before the boy stepped further into the room he removed the patch from his forehead because he knew there would be even more scars if a bystander helped him and he wanted to keep Y/N safe.

His father's eyes snapped towards him, bloodshot and furious.

"Why the hell aren't you home earlier?" His father's voice boomed, shaking the walls of their small house. "I told you to be back hours ago, you useless piece of shit!"

The boy swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to appease his father's anger. "I'm sorry, Dad. I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time?" His father's voice rose, the frustration palpable in every word as he got up from the couch. "And where's the damn alcohol I asked you to bring,huh?"

The boy's heart sank. He had hoped his father wouldn't notice, but the empty bottles strewn across the floor were impossible to miss. "I... I couldn't find any," he stammered, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

The older man's face turned a dangerous shade of red. His eyes widened, his pupils narrowed, and the emotions he displayed were enough to scare anyone. Maybe it's better for his mother that she's gone so she doesn't have to see this, even though that she is the cause of everything. "Couldn't find any? You stupid pig..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the boy's father lunged towards him, his words drowned out by a tidal wave of anger and disappointment. The boy braced himself for the onslaught, knowing that this was just another night in their tumultuous existence. But amidst the chaos, he made a silent vow to be stronger so he can have another day to see his angel.

With a swift motion, his father's hand connected with his cheek, the same cheek Y/N kissed him now is tarnished, sending him crashing to the ground. He layed there, stunned and helpless, as his father's tirade continued, the sound of breaking glass punctuating each sentence. There was no defense, no escape from the torrent of anger that engulfed him. All he could do was endure, his body trembling with fear and resignation but he was already so used to it.

Each blow, both physical and verbal, carved deeper into his already bruised soul. But through the haze of pain and despair, one thought burned brighter than the rest: he had to stay strong, for her. For the hope of a better tomorrow, where he could see his blessing sent from above, but why isn't he blessed with good fortune right now? Is his suffering not enough, dear God?

As his father's rage finally subsided, leaving only a hollow silence in its wake, the boy clung to that flicker of hope, knowing it was all he had to hold onto. Will something be different? But this day will be over when the minute and second hands overlap as the world holds its breath for a little while.

Felicity means happiness, good fortune

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[tryingtofindava]

creeps with a goth gf

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡! 𝐆𝐅*ೃ༄

lolz didn’t know what specific creeps u wanted so imma just choose who!! ^_^ ALSO THE READER IS A TRAD GOTH!!

(INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Jane the Killer, Nina the Killer, Kate the Chaser, Clockwork.)

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Has at least nearly roundhouse kicked you bcs he thought u were Jane on MULTIPLE OCCASIONS… (he’ll say he’s sorry in the most dull non apologetic way ever and probs doesn’t mean it.)

“My bad, I guess.”

He doesn’t care abt aesthetic that much I believe, as long as he finds you hot lolz.

Though when he’s out killing people and he sees something that catches his eye that he’d class ‘gothy as fuck’ he’d snatch it for you… so that’s sweet ig.

He deadass brought you a dead bat once…

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

HE LOVES U AND UR AESTHETIC SM

Midwest emo x trad goth, what a combo :3

His first words to you ever was that you looked like you crawled out a Tim Burton movie (he was tryna impress u with his film knowledge).

Type of guy to ask to make a shared Spotify playlist and try and learn all of the songs you like and force himself to learn the lyrics for you.

Bro will jump you just to get a hug, and when he finally pulls away you’ll just see the black imprints of your makeup on his white tee.

BEGS YOU TO GO THRIFTING TOGETHER TO FIND COOL THINGS TO WEAR FOR EACHOTHER!!

“T-this would luh-look so cool o-on you!!”

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

TWINNING!! :D

She’s a trad goth too lmao.

You two definitely share clothes, no matter what it may be. Corsets, dresses, boots, gloves. Anything in the closet really you two own together :)

ALSO she WILL help you doing your makeup, not because you need the help just because she likes to practice so she doesn’t get rusty. (She mostly wears her mask so she doesn’t rlly do a whole lotta makeup besides lashes and lipstick)

Like Toby will take you thrifting (without the breaking in part).

╰┈➤ 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

She thinks your so so so super duper awesome sauce.

She’s a scene girly, so she LOVES the fact that your twos aesthetics are so different and unique from eachother.

Also likes helping to do your makeup, because she just wants to be able to do trad makeup to impress you.

WILL ASLO TAKE YOU TO THE THRIFT SHOP. (these guys like thrift shops okay)

Would love if you guys swapped wardrobes for a day.

“BABE, PRETTY PLEASE??? JUST FOR TWO MINUTES!! I’LL GIVE ‘EM BACK!!”

And you’ve deffo caught her in your clothes MULTIPLE times :3

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

She doesn’t care all that much what you’re aesthetic is lolz.

She just wants someone in her life to love and to love her back.

But she does compliment your look nervously when the convo gets a lil too quiet.

Though you do catch her staring at you lovingly while doing your makeup .

She may bring you back little things that caught her eye that reminds her of you, that being anything rlly. BUT ESPECIALLY CLOTHING.

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

She will compliment you every chance she gets. Mostly calling you hot and sexy.

SHE’S GOT THE HUMOUR OF A 12 YEAR OLD BOY WHO HASN’T HIT PUBERTY!! (And you love it and hate it at the exact same time.)

Like I mean she makes goth mommy jokes ALL THE TIME… there’s no stopping her. She cackles so hard afterwards after u scold her for it too.

“I love my big tiddy goth girlfriend<3”

“Nat, I swear to fuck-“

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - This chapter-rough sex, anal play, daddy kink, deep throating, masturbation, oral (both receiving)

ꕥ Word Count- 8.5k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 8 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 9

You blink sleepily, opening your eyes to watch the sun filter through the blinds of the hotel room, and you feel a light caressing down your tummy. Your eyes shut again, as you feel strong arms around you, as you feel one of his heavy, muscled thighs shoved firm between your plush ones. He’s pressing up as he pushes on your hip, pressing that thigh up.

You whimper in pleasure, as you’re growing hot against him, and he moans softly, kissing your neck and pressing you tighter against him. Your hand reaches for his own, entwining your fingers and bringing it to your lips, kissing the scarred, rough hand, one you really didn’t know enough about. All you know is you love them, his big rough hands in yours.

Toji exhales softly, tickling your neck, then he’s got you flipped on top of him, and you look down at his handsome face, tracing a fingertip down his scar, as your hair falls like a curtain on the side of your face. Toji reaches up, grabbing your hips and pressing you down, and you cry out as you feel his length against you, pressing right between your lips.

“T-Toji…” You whisper, your voice still sleepy, crying out when he’s got your tits in his hands, over his soft white shirt you’d slept in.

“Beautiful, doll, waking up to this? M’fucking dreaming.” His husky morning voice breaks you completely, as does how his dark lashes lower over those mossy green eyes, and you kiss his forehead softly, then his cheeks, pecking kisses everywhere you could see.

“I thought last night was a dream.” You whisper, grinding on him then, making him tense, growing harder against you under his sweats. “But, you’re here.”

“I’m here, doll. Right… here…” He presses up again, dragging you against his length again then it’s too much, you’re yanking off his shirt, then sliding down, pulling down his slutty ass gray sweats, and he’s sucking in a breath, his ab muscles tensing as you go lower. “Doll…”

“Want you in my throat.” You whisper, looking at him then, his eyes narrowed, vermillion lips parted as you pull his thick cock out, stroking it from that base of curly dark hair up to his leaky red tip, lapping it up with your tongue.

“Fuck…” He hisses then, as you suckle right at that little line, where pre cum is pouring out, and he grips your hair in his big hands, snapping his hips up, shoving that cock all the way in your mouth. “You’re the death of me, too fuckin good at it.”

“Mmm…” Is all you can manage as you’re sucking him, stroking your hands in little twists up and down his length, he twitches in your mouth, and your eyes lock. He is pulling your hair so hard it’s pricking little tears in your eyes, and you’re drooling all over him as you watch him fall apart for you.

Toji, big strong Toji, is reduced to a mess as you work him, as you taste his sweat, and you like it, you love his salty precum, you’d suck it all day. Everything about him, as he’s now groaning so sexy, shoving your face down on his cock now, deeper, and you breathe through your nostrils, taking him as deep as you can. Your nose pressed against his pelvis before he yanks you off.

“Get up here, now.” He orders, and you giggle a bit, shaking your head and looking right at him, batting your lashes.

“No, daddy I’m having fun.” He narrows those eyes, jaw tensing, then on your lick up the veins of his thick cock he’s got you flipped under him, shoving two fingers in your eager, slick entry, making you scream out. “T-Toji!”

“Nuh uh.” He smacks your little cunt, and you hiss and the sting, blinking rapidly as you try to gain your senses.

“Daddy.”

“Mmhmm, what do you want, fuckin brat?” He smacks your cunt again, before sliding two fingers back in, and your wetness makes the lewdest noises as he scissors his thick digits inside you.

“Wanted to- ah- suck you off. Dick. Ow!” Now he’s smacked your cunt again, hard this time. “Daddy.”

“You’re such a fucking brat, swear ya don’t learn do ya?” You just smirk now, earning a playful glare.

“I’m a slow learner, daddy, I’m sorry.” You reach down to stroke his sensitive cock again, giggling like crazy when he’s got your wrist in a brutal grip.

“You’re psycho I swear.” He grumbles, then he’s lifted your leg, dragging you by your hips, lining his cock up, and you feel his tip pressing just into that tight ring of muscles, and fuck if you’re not close from just that. He exhales, cupping your face gently for a moment, studying you. “Tell me what you want, doll. Words.”

“Want you in me, daddy. Please. Ngh!” You scream out then, gasping as he slides his thick length to the fucking hilt, and he’s tense above you, face contorted in pleasure.

“Oh fuck .” He’s sliding out, his hips snapping up then as he shoves his entire length inside, making your body rock, pleasure coursing through your entire body.

You love it, you love this, love the way he’s holding your hips tight and bruising with one hand, as his other delicately holds your jaw. As he’s giving you long, hard strokes, but they’re slow , they’re intimate. You love feeling him, rolling up your hips and gasping, as his cock is sliding nearly all the way out before he thrusts back in, your cunt gripping him like a vise.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy, harder please...” You scream out, your walls tightening around him and he’s groaning like he’s in pain, those abs of his flexing, his chest flushing with his exertion, cheeks reddened as he huffs over you.

“You’re a little whore f’me, ya fuckin know that?” He says with a smirk, and you just nod, loving it when he calls you names. “ My whore, my slut, my little fuck doll.”

His possessiveness kills you, along with his nasty fucking words, and you’re even wetter around him, whining when he rolls those talented hips, his cock dragging against your walls. “Y-yes, Daddy, yours .” You repeat, and he’s sliding in and out of you, fucking you so good, so deep it’s unreal.

You’re shaking, as he grows sweaty working over you, now he leans back, spreading your thighs, and he’s got his thumb pressing right on your clit, pressing down as he’s fucking you, and you feel your climax close as he rubs it, he knows just where, just what pressure. Your eyes roll back as he’s got a leg up on his chest, kissing down your calf, down your ankle.

His tongue slips to your toes, making you squeal, and he grins. “You’re… s’nasty… Toji….”

“You fuckin love it, little slut.” You just nod, whining when he bites the thin skin of your ankle. “Cum all over Daddy’s cock, doll. Lemme feel that tight fuckin cunt soak my cock.”

You obey, of course you do, how can you not when Toji Fushiguro’s thick cock is shoving deep inside, stretching your little hole, when his rough pad of that thumb rubs your clit just so. When he’s looking at you like that? Of course you cum, shattering around him, losing vision as you gush all over, and he’s groaning, gripping your leg so tight it will bruise.

You whine out, gasping, and his head falls back, so fucking sexy, as you watch that Adam’s apple bob up and down under dark stubble, and he’s feeling you pulse around his length, that weeping tip dragging on your spot. He’s moaning now, shoving his thumb in your mouth.

“Taste that, little slut. Taste how wet ya get f’me.” You eagerly suck on that thumb, and he’s moaning now, coming to lay on you, his heavy weight so perfect on your body, now he’s fucking even harder, on hand on the side of your head, inky black hair falling over a brow.

He’s making you feel like you’re going to break, and your nails are digging into his shoulders, leaving half moons as you try to hold on. He’s slamming his lips against yours now, and drinking your cries, pumping harder and harder in your already sore cunt, and you tremble as you feel yourself close again, as each stroke sends you higher.

“Let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry, let me hear you scream f’me.” He’s grunting it out now, as your walls clamping down so hard around him, his cock jolts in response. “It’s just us.”

“Just- us- ah! Daddy! ” You scream out now, and he groans right with you, as you let go of anything and everything, letting Toji fuck you stupid. He’s gripping your waist with his rough hands, and your eyes lock. Yours are cock drunk off him, your brows drawing together, struggling to focus as you’re pulled higher and higher.

“Ready f’me? Can you take- ah- all of it?” You nod, and he slams his lips on yours then, shoving up so deep you feel him in your stomach, feel him fucking everywhere, then he’s fucking with hard slaps, so rough it’s painful, but you love it. “Feel me fuckin your guts up, huh?”

“Sh-shut up… Toji. Mnh!” You’ve earned a light smack on your pretty face, then Toji’s hand wrapped around your throat.

“Bratty lil fuckin’ mouth. You shouldn’t be able to- ha- talk.” You’re dying now, as he’s choking you so hard, and wrecking your cunt, rubbing those sore walls raw, but you want him to. Feeling like Toji will split you in two is indescribable.

You can’t speak anymore, your eyes have rolled back, your mouth is stupidly open and your little tongue is lolling out, and Toji’s looking at you as he’s squeezing, as he’s fucking you, as he’s owning you. You are getting fuzzier and fuzzier, as he takes your oxygen, his own face contorted in pleasure, veins popping out of his neck, which you eagerly grip with limp hands.

Then he’s cumming, and so are you, his loud moan mixing with your broken whimper, as it’s fading to black while you’re shattering, cumming so hard it hurts, filled with Toji’s white cum. It’s coating your walls, his cock is pulsing more and more, so much it’s fucking stupid, and you’re gushing it all back out and down him, cumming so hard you’re convulsing.

He finally releases your throat, and you struggle to breathe, holding your throat and coughing then, as you greedily suck up the air he’d prevented. Then he’s kissing you again, and there’s no hope to catch that breath, not when he is utterly taking over your body and mind.

“Stupid f’me. Huh, doll?” He huffs, pulling out now, and his cum and your arousal slide and drip out of your sore little cunt. You whine at the sensation, at how sore you really are, and he’s softly rubbing the neck he’d left two hand prints on.

“You’re s-stupid.” You choke out, making him glare again, and you manage a breathy giggle, before he’s got you spun, on your knees now, whacking your ass so loud it reverberates in the room. “Ah! Ah, fuck !” You cry out, and he’s not going easy either, he’s thwacking you so good there’s welps.

“Ya done running that pretty mouth?” You nod weakly, and then bury your head in the bed, soft blankets making your already heated face even hotter, when he’s shoving the cum that’s poured back in your cunt. “Say sorry, be a good girl f’me.”

“Sorry, daddy, I am.” You look back and pout at him, viewing that sight behind you, his eyes locked on your pussy, his entire body glistening with sweat, enhancing every muscle he has.

“Good girl, let daddy take care of her.” He’s sinking off the bed on his knees now, and when you feel his tongue slide between your juicy lips of your cunt, lapping his own cum off you, you scream at it. “Fuck we taste good together.”

“Sensitive, daddy, ngh!” He’s humming against you, his big hands grabbing your ass and dragging it to his face, his chin is on your clit as he drinks both of your cum greedily out of your hole. “Ah! Fuck!”

“Mmmh, ya taste so good doll, I need you cumming again.”

You shiver, your cunt is somehow still soaked for this man and you can’t fathom how you have that much pouring out ( stay hydrated, reader ) but Toji is now fucking you with his tongue, taking it all down his throat, and you’re arching back, stupid mouth open again, eyes slamming shut as the pleasure works through you. You’re cumming again, you’ve lost count, you’re barely clinging on.

Once he’s lavved you clean, humming his satisfaction, his cock is sliding against you again, and you tense, hips jerking back. “Toji, my pussy hurts, I can’t go another round.”

“Can’t fuckin take dick, huh?”

“You left for months, so no , I cannot.” You turn and stick your tongue out, earning another smack that jerks your entire body.

“I haven’t had enough of ya, I need you to get that shit stamina in check.”

“Me!? Listen it hurts, your dick is huge and you’re not gentle shithead.”

“Shithead huh!?”

“Mmhmm! Ow!”

“Thought ya loved me, now I’m a shithead?” You giggle breathlessly, sinking your head on your arms, exhaling.

“I do love you, but you’re a shithead. Mmnh. Toji even eating me out is too much right now, I can only cum so much.” He’s back to licking you like a fiend, as if your pussy is the only thing that will fill him up and he’s starved. Then he flicks up, and you gasp when he’s got his tongue on that little hole. “Toji, don’t lick there!?”

“Why not, don’t like it?” He does it again, making you shiver in pleasure.

“I do, but that’s…”

“Nasty?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Doll, I’m nasty as fuck.” He’s doing it again, burying his face between your cheeks now, and that stubble scratches as his tongue flicks.

“Don’t- you- ah!- need to see… Megumi?”

“I’ll see him after I’m done with you. For at least a few.” He’s fingering your ass then and you’re screaming out at how good it feels, as his other fingers find your clit and press. “You like it, don’t ya doll?”

“S’good but… freaky fucking… Toji! Mnph! Did you just spit on it!?”

“I love spitting on you.” You shiver as he spreads the sticky spit all over your ass, plunging his thick finger back in, the burn makes you hiss, his other hand is now pulling at your hair, bringing you up to your knees in front of him. “Should let me take it first in all your fuckin holes.”

“Nasty… man, ngh…” He’s smirking right at you, as your eyes are fluttering shut from the stupid amount of sensations being pulled with expert, nasty fucking fingers.

“Not now then, scared little brat.”

“Not scared!”

“Mmhmm.” He eases his fingers out, stopping that insane pressure. “We’ll go spend time with Megumi, then.”

“We!? You mean you.”

“Nah, he needs to spend time with his step mom.” He’s grinning bright and white as you smack at him, turning and shoving his stupidly strong body.

“You stop that shit. So full of it.” You huff, blowing your hair out of your face while he’s got you in a tight hold.

“Think I’m full of it?” You nod with a glare. “Why, what’s wrong with the idea of being a stepmom?”

“We’d have to be married, idiot.”

“And.”

You blink then, confusion washing through you, and before you can demand he stop being so stupid , he has decided to slam a kiss on your lips, slack and open. You yank back. “Toji don’t say shit like that, I’m already fucked up enough from you. You’d never marry again, and I already know that.”

“I know I said that before. But…” He tilts your chin up, and his gaze is so easy to fall into, to lose yourself in, this man who’d just drank his cum out of you and smacked your ass so hard it’s burning. This man who’d just had a finger in your ass and even lapped at your toes. He’s somehow… sweet, genuine, loving.

You shake your head at the suggestion, at his look, your own eyes darting away, lashes lowering over them. “Don’t say that, don’t.”

“Think I wouldn’t, brat?”

“I know you wouldn’t. Let’s just… get ready.” You shove off him, you can’t have your heart anymore crushed than it would be when he leaves again, or when your dad finds out, fuck when everyone finds out.

How is there some future of a happy wedding and baby for you two?

And the agony of not believing it’s existence has you in tears.

“Doll… you too young for it?” He asks, suddenly holding your shoulders, and you exhale, shaking your head.

“That’s not it. It’s just, I can’t even think like that. I just wanna have fun with you while you’re here. I know it won’t be long.”

“I’ll keep seeing ya, doll, and bring you home to me on-”

“On breaks? What would I tell dad?”

He sighs, looking away then, running a hand through that shiny black hair. “You’re the rational one now!?”

“I guess fucking so. But… Toji?” He looks at you, his jaw tense, as you wrap your arms around him. “I don’t care, I’ll wait for the once every couple of months to fuck you. I won’t be with anyone else. I’m too ruined now.”

“Doll…” You’re tracing that cleft on his chin with your fingertip, and shut his mouth with a finger. “I want more than-”

“Shh. Don’t give me so much hope. Just kisses.” You’re yanking him down, and his hands grip you everywhere, until he lifts you, slamming you into the wall, and fuck if you won’t go again, even as your little cunt just hates you, no you’d push yourself to be consumed.

“I want more than that. Making me fsay it. Have me a whiny little bitch lately.” He speaks between kisses, as you both lose your breath. You taste his cum and yours on his tongue, that nasty, wicked tongue that annihilates any sense you have. “More than… that.”

“More?” He nods, gulping, and now you’re wrapped around him, legs around his lean hips, your arms around his strong neck, he holds you in his huge hands, and you feel your cunt throbbing as he’s pressing against you.

“Not just more sex. More you, doll.” You blink back tears then, and his face softens, a hand sliding up to cup it gently, delicately holding on and just watching you now. “More of you.”

“Toji… how…”

“Just come with me.”

“Toji I can’t! That’s selfish to ask. Sorry college, I need Toji’s dick.”

He grins at that, white teeth glinting, mischievous fucking look in those dark green eyes. “Ay, it’s good dick though.”

“Facts. But. No.”

“Ugh. Killing me. Okay, summer is coming, spend the summer with me? Ya got classes?”

“I have a three week break. Maybe I could be convinced to stay at a pervy old man’s house.” You whisper, trailing your fingers down his hard body, and smirking up at his angry scowl.

“You’re the one saying ‘oh no more, ow’ and I’m old?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” You both glare, then you’re just kissing each other again, and he’s holding you like you’re nothing, as you dangle in the damn air, clinging to him, breathless. “Stubborn fuckin brat.”

“You love it, don’t you?” You nip his lower lip, then he pulls back a bit to study you, eyes committing you to memory.

“I love you, even if you’re a bratty little bitch.”

“Bitch!”

“Yep.”

“Asshole.” He smirks at you, and you’re kissing again, fuck will you ever get enough of this?

“Keep kissing me and we’re fuckin again, doll.”

“I can’t! She needs rest.”

“Rest. She got two months of that.” He rolls his eyes at you, then you’re cleaning up in the bathroom, and it’s oddly easy to be with Toji alone. He’s fixing his messy hair, putting on deodorant, and you’re using his toothbrush, then washing your face.

“Shit, Toji I looked like a racoon this whole time!?”

“You’re a sexy raccoon.” You smack him now, his big hands are gripping your hips, as he stares at you in the mirror, kissing down the side of your head. “Look how good you look in my arms, ma. Too pretty f’me.”

“Okay, Insta baddie.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Thousands of likes on one fuzzy ass picture!”

“Aw, my doll is jealous. I don’t want any of them, I want you , every bit of you, too.” He’s squishing your breasts now, and you are hopelessly leaning your head back, moaning softly at how good it feels. “Perfect tits. Perfect body.” His hands slide down the nip of your waist, the jut of your hips, around to your tummy, as he touches you everywhere with those big hands.

“We’ll never get anywhere if you start again. Don’t you wanna see Megumi?” He sighs, his brows low as he bites your throat. “You’ll give me more hickeys!”

“Good, they need to know who this belongs to.”

“This!? Am I some object or something you have some claim to?”

“Mmhmm, my toy, my doll. Just f’me.” He’s biting again, and you throw down the brush then, it clatters to the floor, as he’s pressing that hard cock against your back, and his touches are making your sore little cunt ache more.

“T-toji, fucking stop. Mmnh.” Your eyes close as you enjoy his touch far too much. “You need to spend time with your son.”

“Spending time with my baby mama.”

“Toji!”

“Oh fine.” He rolls his eyes at you, before pressing on your stomach, humming to himself.

“Stop thinking about putting babies in me, old man.” You turn, patting his cheek, leaning up to plant a kiss on his chin. “Go see Megumi.”

“I’ll pick you up tonight.” Your hands slide down his strong arms, fingers caressing his muscles, feeling the sinewy lines under your fingertips.

“You even gonna ask me, old man?” He smirks down at you, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“Nah you want it. Don’t ya, pretty doll?” Your lashes lower, as he pulls you flush against his bare chest with his other hand, you feel his body heat radiating through you. “Ah-ah, look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“You’re awfully sweet. Usually such a jerk.” You do look up at him, as his lips part, then he sighs, caressing your cheek before he’s brushing back your hair.

“Fine I’ll ask nicely, since you’re such a brat. Will you stay another night? Before I have to leave.” Your heart starts to hurt now as you think of how he’s going to leave you, it sinks in your stomach, and it’s clearly reflected on your face, he frowns a bit now as you tense in his hold. “I’m not going to just dip the fuck off. I promise.”

“It’s hard to believe, that's all.” You feel little tears slipping down your cheeks, ones he swipes away with a serious set to his features. “I don’t blame you, Toji, it just really hurt.”

“I know doll, c’mere.” He pulls you against him, hugging you tightly, and you inhale that scent you’ve missed so much once more. “Making me soft. Embarrassing is what it is.”

“No, it’s just who you are deep down. Beneath all that aggressive bullshit. I love when you open up.”

“When I open up those thighs?”

“Toji Fushiguro!”

He’s just chuckling, and how his eyes crinkle in those corners, how that scar you now peck a kiss on stretches, fuck you’re in love, and terrified. “Sure you don’t wanna come, you’re gonna be a shit step mom to Megumi. He already had a shit dad.”

“You stop that. Go be a good dad for me , and I’ll call you daddy later, mmkay?” His eyes get lidded, and you feel him getting hard against your tummy. “Not right now old man, let’s go.”

*****

Three weeks later

“Fuck I miss ya, doll.” Toji murmurs on the phone, and you turn over to your side, sighing then, Toji calls you every night, and texts you all day. He has surprised you by sending things to your dorm, no flowers or anything. Vibrators.

Yeah.

Toji’s nasty.

Usually you would use those toys and he’d listen, or you’d send him videos, earning his hard cock with cum all over it in an image as a reward, but it was honestly torture. You toss and turn constantly, missing being filled by him, and now missing being held in his arms.

“Two more days, old man. Can you wait that long?” You ask softly, and he just exhales again, fuck you’re getting turned on by his breathing.

“I want you to stay longer than two weeks, that’s what I want.”

“Toji, I already promised dad a week. That would look awful. Plus, I miss him…” Toji sighs again. “That’s three sighs, old man.”

“I hate you not being with me. I gotta worry what college boy is staring at that ass, the one that belongs t’me.” You smile then, looking at your phone and requesting a video chat. “What’s that?”

“Facetime, old man. Accept it.” Soon Toji’s on the video, and your heart is thumping out of your chest, as you strip down your top, revealing your breasts that bounce gently as they’re released. He moans, setting you down now, and you watch as he’s grabbing for his cock under white sweats. “Miss them?”

“Askin’ dumb fuckin questions, doll. How are they even nicer? How?” You play with them gently, teasing him as you lean close to the phone camera. “I’ll come get ya early.”

“No, play with that cock for me, Daddy , I really wanna see.” You beg with a pout now, and you watch him eagerly, his hand stroking his huge cock up to the leaky tip and down to the base. Your pussy starts throbbing, already getting wet as you see him.

“Wanna suck on those pretty titties, wanna fuckin taste ya again.” You whine now, positioning yourself so that your thighs are spread, as you slide your panties down right in front of him. His moans reverberate through your body, until you can’t take it, it’s like torture not touching him. “Mnh, you want me to fill ya up again, don’t ya?”

“Ugh… yes, I do. This is the worst.” You lean back, watching him watch you, biting your lower lip while your own hand sliding down your stomach, over your bare mound, to your clit, rubbing it gently. You cry out at the touch.

“Spread them f’me. Lemme see all of that perfect cunt.” You do as he said, and watch him stroking that cock faster as he looks at you. “Oh yeah, doll, just like that, get yourself ready for me, you’re gonna get that cock so good when you're here.”

“Want you now.” You whisper, sliding a finger into your pussy, pulling out a stupid amount of wetness, his eyes are glued to your screen, watching as you play with yourself. “Look how wet I am for you, Daddy. Mmnh, so wet.” You’re rubbing your clit now with the slick you gathered, and your other hand is playing with a nipple, rolling it, pinching it.

“Fucking… this is stupid I’m leaving now.” You giggle a bit. “You can come a couple days early.”

“Toji… f-finals. Can’t.”

“Fuck me.”

“I will soon.” You giggle again, earning his glare through the phone screen now, as he’s stood up, looking down at the camera, and fuck if that angle doesn’t do things to you, like you’re looking up at him, ready to suck him. “Want him in my mouth.”

“Want you on my tongue.”

That makes you even more sensitive, imagining him tasting you right now, his tongue all over you. “Y’know… who needs… mmm, finals.”

“Grab that toy.” You get up and head to the dresser, grabbing the little vibrator you’ve been using from him. “Ah-ah, not that one. Want you to fuck yourself in front of me.”

You’re flushed then, as you hadn’t even taken that out of the box, you look back at the phone now. “I haven’t used one.”

“I know, it’s way smaller than my dick don’t worry.” He’s chuckling, and you roll your eyes, pulling out the little dildo he’d gotten out of the sleek black box finally, your hands trembling a bit as you get back over there, pushing it in bit by bit. Toji’s huffing, gripping his hair tightly, working himself, his abs flex as he moves.

“I’m nervous.” You admit then, pressing the silicon in your entrance, gasping when it fills you.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re being s’good f’me. Ease it in.” You’re shivering while you’re pressing it in even deeper, and your pussy is pulsing around the toy, it feels so different from Toji.

“I don’t like it like you. Want you inside me.”

“I know doll, I know… can you get it any deeper?” 

“No, I don’t… it’s not the same.” You pull it out then push back in, sliding it just a couple inches in and out, then it does start to feel good, but it’s not enough. “Not enough Toji.”

“Push in more, I know ya can. I bottom out in that pussy.” You’re all flushed as you glare at him, and he smirks, your lips ache to kiss that scar at the corner of his mouth. “Balls deep too.”

“Not the same. Mmm.” Your eyes shut as you begin to fuck yourself with it, as Toji’s noises from the back of his throat urge you, then you’re getting wetter. “Daddy… want you.”

“I want you s’fuckin bad it’s stupid. Wanna cum and fill that pussy, it’s only mine, isn’t it?”

“Only… y-yours…” Now his words urge you, the sounds he’s making, seeing him twisting a fist on that cock you want so badly. Your eyes go half lidded as you watch him watch you, your breath coming out in short gasps, your hips bucking. “T-toji, oh my… fuck I…”

“That’s it, doll, take it all like a good girl, I wanna see ya messy, that’s it.” He’s huffing as you’re crying out, as you’re imagining his cock thrusting instead, and soon your eyes shut, head falling back on your little twin mattress.

“Close, close. Need you, need you.” You keep whispering, over and over like a little mantra, now the toy is easily fucking in and out, and you feel yourself raising higher under his watch.

“Cum f’me doll, lemme see.” So you do, your orgasm hits you harder than your usual clit play, your eyes are rolling back, mouth open as you whine out your release. “Mmm, that’s it, cumming for daddy yeah?”

You slide the toy out, legs twitching, as you lean on elbows to watch him through the camera, as he starts to cum now, pumping white and messy from his reddened tip. You lay there, panting, your chest heaving as you watch his eyes shut, him covering his face for a moment, catching his breath. It’s all over his thick muscled thighs, up to his belly button.

“So messy for me.” You tease, earning a scowl, making you giggle at it. “What? I like it. Messy boy.”

“Boy, fuck no.” You watch him clean up now, his abs flexing with the movement, and you’re biting your bottom lip even harder, so hard you feel the skin break, feeling that ache deep in your core again, that need that’s never really satisfied even with the best of the toys.

“Messy man then.” You slide up your little panties, picking up the phone and laying it sideways, resting your head on your hand as you watch him do the same in his own bed. Your fingers trace the phone, wishing more than anything he was here physically.

“You’re too fuckin hot. Keep dreaming of that body, that face when you cum.” You flush at his words, looking down for a moment at those lips. He licks his lower one, darting over that scar.

“I dream of you too, Toji. But more than sex.”

“Didn’t say it was only sex f’me either.”

You’re both silent for a moment, ever since he left, those insane talks about babies and… living together? Marrying? Those weren’t a thing, it was typically purely you both being horny as fuck and playing. Or talking about life, about how you missed each other. But they linger, the things he spoke of.

Would Toji ever be serious like that?

“What’s on that mind, hmm? Should only be my dick.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “It takes over a lot for sure, but I guess there is more in my head than that.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm… it’s something we can talk about soon.”

He looks at you seriously, and now you feel emotion take hold of you, closing in your throat. “You sure doll?”

“Mmhmm. I’m sleepy. Gonna dream that I spank you for being a bad boy.” You snicker at his growl, covering your mouth with your hand as it mixes with a yawn now, your eyes getting heavy.

“That’ll never happen so keep dreaming.”

“Mmm, you love when I ride you though, don’t you?”

“I’m hard again brat. Gonna give it to you so good when I get you.”

“How are you gonna handle the three hour drive then?”

“Your mouth will be on my cock.”

“Oh yeah?” He just grins, that lewd grin, and you find yourself thrilled by the thought of it.

“Don’t worry, when you’re here I’ll eat you out right on my kitchen table. Finest fucking meal.”

“Mnh… Toji….” Now you’re wet, again, your pussy throbbing and practically begging for this damn jerk. Jerk you love. “No more until I see you, it’s literally the worst.”

He smirks at you now. “You would be a pretty little housewife, you know.”

Your eyes roll at that, then narrow. “Toji what do you even do?”

He’s full on grinning now. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes. No. Later.”

Soon you’re fading in and out of consciousness, exhaustion pulling at you. Classes and tests, along with all nighters studying, and fitting in time to talk with Toji as much as you can? Kind of exhausting, especially since he wants you to cum damn near every time you talk.

“Sleepy little thing.” He says it tenderly, you think with a muddled mind. “Good night doll.”

“Night Toji. Love you.” You mumble, blinking him into view once more, seeing his eyes blink a bit, as if he’s tired too.

“Love you, doll.”

Fuck his words make you smile, as you fall asleep. You’re so tired you didn’t hang up the phone.

*****

Toji’s headlights pull up, and Megumi, Nobara and Yuji are there, of course they were, and as Toji pulls up your heart stops. It’s been over three weeks, and you’ve missed him so bad you can’t stand it. You clutch your luggage closely to you, it may or may not have Hello Kitty on it.

“It’s the dilf.” Nobara says, sucking a lollipop then, and you cover your face in embarrassment, as does Megumi. Toji laughs, stepping out of the car now, a thin white shirt doing nothing to hide all his muscles, stretching across his chest and cutting off on his biceps.

The dark jeans he’s wearing hug him like a glove, and damn if your eyes weren’t shamelessly drinking in how good he looks. He takes your luggage and smirks at it, you glare. “Don’t say shit.”

He just pecks a kiss on your head, hugging you to him, then putting it in his car, then goes to Megumi, ruffling his spiky black hair. Megumi smacks at his hand. “Missed you kid.” Megumi rolls his dark green eyes, hands in his jeans pockets as he smirks at you.

“You came for her. Don’t even try that shit.”

“I also came to… say hi to you.” He snorts at that, and Toji’s eyes hit you then, draping down your body hungrily.

“Sure dad.”

“Hey dad!” Yuji waves with a grin, and Toji grimaces.

“Ugh you’re callin’ me that too?”

“Want them to call you daddy?” Nobara quips, earning her own glare from Toji Fushiguro.

“I see you can’t stop talkin’ about me, huh, doll?” He says then, and you’re flushed with the look he gives, you want to jump this man, fucking climb him, and also smack him. While fucking him!?

“Not at all.” You bat your lashes innocently, earning an eye roll from him.

“She just says you spit-”

“Yuji! I didn’t even tell you that!?” You smack a hand on his mouth, and now Toji’s grinning like the damn devil he is.

“Well I’m tired of getting left out.” He pouts now all cutely. “Plus, you know I was her first kiss, right?”

Toji cracks his knuckles at that, and Megumi is snickering behind his hand. “Oh shit, you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” Nobara says, giggling as she licks the lollipop again.

“I was just kidding!” He’s waving his arms like mad, as Toji approaches closer, until he dips out into a full run. You pop a hand on Toji’s chest now, your own laughter bubbling up in your chest.

“Don’t beat him up, old man.” You say, and he sighs.

“I’ll take it all out on you tonight then.” He whispers down at you, breath against your lips, drawing your gaze to them, and you can’t help but to step closer, licking your own lower lip in anticipation.

“Yuck! Yuck yuck yuck.” Megumi’s noises barely register, and you clear your throat a bit, stepping back. Toji just looks at him amusedly.

“What? It’s your future step mom.”

“Yuck! Go you two, blegh.” Megumi shivers, waving a hand as he and Nobara go off to find Yuji now, and you’re… alone with Toji. Outside your dorm building.

You’d fuck him right here.

“I missed you, old man.” You slide your hands up, wrapping them around his neck, your breasts pressed on his chest now, making him moan softly, grabbing your ass with two big hands, you squeak at it.

“Missed you, fuckin brat. Talking about my dick hmm?”

“Amongst other things.” You tap on his lips, and he’s got you in his car so quick you blink and you’re there, and he’s already got the car in gear. “How…”

“I can’t wait till we get home. Imma fuck you right here.” He huffs, then he’s pulling over just a bit away, into a dark little parking spot, abandoned this time of evening, when the sky is all pinks and purples.

“Wh-what?” You ask breathlessly, but he shakes his head, pulling your face to him as he lets the car purr, the rock music slowly playing in the background as his lips slam on yours, and you moan into them. “Oh… Toji, fuck. Feel s’good.” Your throaty whisper turns into a whine as he’s got his hands sliding down the side of your breasts now.

Your nipples perk right up, and he pulls back to look down at you, hunger clear in those green eyes, his lashes low over them, lips parted. “Fuck I missed tasting you, doll. Missed feeling you.”

“Me too. Me too.” Now you’re kissing him desperately, and he’s pulling you on his lap, you eagerly straddle him, his hands immediately sliding up to cup your ass under your skirt. He groaned against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore your mouth with a hunger that matched your own.

The car was cramped, the steering wheel pressed against your back, the gear shift shoving in your thigh, Toji’s so goddamn huge everywhere you barely fit, your head is so close to his little roof you’re sure you’ll whack it, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the world mattered except the feel of his rough hands on your skin, the way his tongue danced with yours, the desperation in his grip.

You could feel his cock growing hard between your thighs, and you ground down against him, eliciting a deep groan from his chest. His hands slid up to your breasts, kneading them roughly, squishing them before his thumbs found your nipples. You gasped into the kiss, arching your back, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue even deeper into your mouth.

The world outside the car had faded away, you weren’t even sure where he had parked, and you really didn't care either. Not when you’re soaking wet between your thighs now, and all that existed was the two of you, tangled together in the front seat. You reached down and unbuckled his belt, sliding your hand into his pants to grasp his length, feeling him rock hard and hot in your palm.

“Freaky lil brat.” He huffs, but he’s panting heavily, and you see it, he’s as lost in this crazy fucking connection as you are, isn’t he. “Need to be inside you, now.”

“Then fuck me, Toji.” He’s frantic now, as lifts you just a bit off him, pushing the seat back as far as it would go. He slammed his mouth back down on yours as he’s yanking your panties to the side, sinking two fingers in, and you scream at how good it feels, soaking his hand. “Yes, yes there. Ngh!”

“So wet f’me, only me. Say it doll.” He presses those fingers, hitting your spot you can’t find for shit on your own, and you scream out, the car getting overheated as the two of you fill it with your desire. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself by holding his shoulder, the other struggling to pump on him. “Say it.”

“Of course it’s only you, old man.” He glares now, yanking those fingers out, and you gasp. “N-no, back in, s-sorry!”

“Fuckin brat.”

Toji’s hand slid back up your skirt, his calloused fingers finding your panties soaked with need, sticking to you. He rips them off then, and you blink in shock. “I really liked those!”

“Shouldn’t even wear panties around me then.” He tosses them and you glare, breathless as his fingers are sliding back into your wet heat.

“You take them all!”

He grins, chuckling under you, but then he’s fucking you with those fingers so good you hear yourself squishing in the little car, and your eyes are rolling back, as your head tilts back, shoving your breasts in his face as you scream out. He’s shoving that top up with his free hand, sucking on your breasts, your nipples which are so sensitive you can’t stand it,

“F-fine. Keep them, freaky old man.” You grind down onto his hand as he works you closer to the edge, your body overheating as he’s watching you hungrily. You needed him inside you, filling you up, claiming you like only he could, and you’re already cumming from just one more pump of thick fingers.

“That’s it, doll, cum like a lil slut f’me.” His nasty words are just what you want, you’re falling apart over him, clenching his fingers like a vise as you can’t even see anymore, it’s all feeling too fucking euphoric. You’re floating on that high, Toji makes you cum better than a vibrator ever could. “S’wet too, slutty lil cunt.”

“Fuck me, please. Please.” You’re begging, and you don’t care that you’re begging either, you need him so goddamn bad you can’t stand it. His eyes never leave yours as he lines himself up with your entrance now, moaning and biting his lower lip with stark white teeth.

“Begging, so fuckin desperate huh doll? For an old man .”

“Shut up, please . Fuck me. Please… I… Ah!”  With one swift movement, Toji’s eight inches are buried deep inside you, and you both cry out at how good it feels, as you’re stretched beyond your means, as your cunt is squeezing him so tight.

“F-Fuck… doll, I…” He exhales, blinking a bit, his usually sure hands squeezing your hips so tight you can’t breathe. Your eyes lock, and his lids lower, his jaw relaxing and his cheeks going red as he lifts you up his length, then slams you back down. He buries his head against your chest, and you cling to his head, shivering as you struggle to take him.

“Toji… Toji …” He began to move now, his hips driving into you with a force that had you gripping the headrest above him to balance yourself, to cling. Each stroke brought you closer to the precipice, and you could feel the beginnings of your climax already building low in your belly.

You wrapped your legs around him, thigh uncomfortably shoving into the door on one side, the console on the other, as you’re pulling him in deeper, your breath hitching with each powerful thrust. Toji’s eyes were dark with lust as he watched you, his jaw clenched, drinking you in, hands everywhere.

The way his chest heaved with every breath, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you down, how gorgeous he looks makes you wetter and wetter, until you’re gushing all over him, down his length, down his thighs. He’s inhaling as he shoves up so deep you scream out, making you cum now, you’re cumming so hard it takes over everything you are.

“Toji! Ngh!”

“ Good girl .”

“Fuck!” He’s kissing you again, you cling to him eagerly, sliding your hips up and down now, bouncing on his cock, stretching you out, and it’s so intense you’re just seeing stars as you’re soaking him.

“That’s it, doll. Let me feel you.” His words are quieter than usual, his tone husky as he’s feeling you pulsing around his length. You slam your lips back on him again, as he drinks you cries, a hand sliding up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You leaned back, feeling his cock slip out of you slightly, and you watched his face tighten. You reached down and guided him back inside, sighing with relief as he filled you completely once more. Your hips began to move again, matching his rhythm, your hands sliding up his back to tug at his shirt, lifting it up to reveal more of where you two are joined.

“Look at you sucking me in s’good, ma.” He shoves up then, leaning back, hands on your thighs as he rolls his hips, that tip pressing on your cervix. Your back arches, eyes fluttering shut as you move with him.

The world outside the car was forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the connection between the two of you, silent aside from his moans and yours intermingling in the car now. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, as you took his length more and more, bouncing on his cock up and down.

Toji’s whispering your name, it sounds so good on his lips as you move, watching him, that steering wheel pressing into your back, not that you care, it just makes the sensation of his throbbing cock in you even better. You see him, sweat on his brow, that jaw clenched, then he stills you, gripping you bruisingly now, fucking into you so hard you’re screaming out, one of your hands smacking the window next to you.

“Want me to fill ya, doll? My doll. My perfect… My… fuck…” He’s losing his own train of thought, as he’s shoving you down on him, harder and harder now, and you whimper, resting your head on his now, foreheads touching, slick with both of your sweat, your hands clinging to his bare arms desperately.

“Cum in me, please. Please, Daddy .” You whisper, then he falls apart under you, pushing one more time and then his head falls back, his grip brutal. You kiss down his neck, biting when you feel him cum so deep, whispering your name.

“Cum with me. Doll. Milk me.” He’s pressing up so deep you can barely handle it, feel him in your damn throat like you can’t breathe. You’re falling apart right with him, as he’s pulsing inside you, cum shooting so much it’s falling out right around him as you cum with him. “F-Fuck… doll… love… you.”

“Love… you…” You whisper back, and you all kiss frantically, holding hands now, over your hips, entwined, his hot cum filling you so good you’re oversensitive, as your clit is grinding against his pelvis, and the friction along with cum in your cervix has you a mess. “Toji…”

“Mine. You’re mine. Aren’t ya doll?” He cups your face now, looking up desperately, as he shivers just for a moment, his long lashes covering those eyes, and you nod eagerly, grinding on his sensitive tip, making you both whine.

“I’m yours. Toji Fushiguro. All yours.” He’s kissing you desperately, as his cock twitches inside of you, little spurts of cum still pouring into you somehow. He’s got his hands in your loose hair, pulling it hard, lips brutal. He sucks all your oxygen, as the car is purring beneath you both, as your heart is pounding out of your chest.

It’s silent, the smacking kisses the noise now, as your ass at some point has knocked off Toji’s music, and he’s just kissing you over and over. When you pull away to catch your breath, his eyes are so serious when they look at you, and you feel it, all the ways he missed you too.

“Fuck.” Is all he says, exhaling and tracing your collarbone with his thumb, dipping in the hollow there, eyes taking every bit of you in. “How am I gonna last without this again?” His voice is hoarse as he says those words, and emotions start hitting, mixed with your inability to think straight, you feel it even more.

“I know, I know.” You snuggle with him then, and he holds you close, kissing down the side of your neck, hands touching you everywhere he can.

“All this trip Imma be convincing you to just stay home and have my kid.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Ya think I’m joking, huh brat?”

“I know you are. Stop all that.”

“Stop wanting to put a kid in ya? Nah, doll, not happening.” You ease off him then, flushing when you see the mess you’ve made, his cock looks so lewd it’s obscene, dripping with his own cum and your arousal. “Well?”

“Well what?” You ask curiously, scooching over to the seat. And he’s raising a dark brow. “What!”

“Clean me up, it’s a long trip.” You blink a bit, as he scoots his seat up and starts to drive.

“Huh?” He grabs you by your hair, still focusing seamlessly on the road, dragging your head over to his lap now.

“Clean. Me. Up.”

Oh.

Chapter 10

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME (PLEASE DON'T FALL) ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | Nanami Kento x male!reader | arranged marriage, angst no comfort (serious) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 23K | not proofread

warnings: hint/implied SH through passive means (no descriptions), loss of virginity, blowjobs, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, major character death, graphic descriptions of violence, yn's low-key going insane masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: this is going to have an open-ended ending so you can let your imaginations run wild. also, I'm sorry it took so long to publish this but I hope it satisfies you! also also - i truly apologize for how frantic the shibuya arc is as I'm an anime watcher so (T T) they'll be no continuation of this fic but there'll be a one-shot fic of nanami kento x reader having some sweet moments just for the heck of it along with a short fic of gojo and yn's wedding day...maybe.

“This is nice,” he murmurs. Uncaring of the water trickling into the shape of his leather shoes or how it makes his clothes cling onto him like a heavier second skin. It’s cooling, feeling like relief that was manifested into a palpable form. Pulsing, moving, pushing, and pulling as the shadows undulated. Sunlight dances on the ocean, piercing through the waters to reach as far down as it can.

Your arms around him make him grin. He reaches to hold you, the rarest of treasures appearing on his face as he feels your lips press onto his left cheek. 

He holds your flesh with a gentle squeeze. The weight of you on his back is like a comforting blanket draped over him; he kisses the delicate muscles and marks you have. You burrow your face into his neck, he closes his eyes and chuckles. "I'm sorry, my love."

“You’re going to make me late.”

It grins wide and proud at the sight of your disgruntled face. The cursed spirit was as ugly as a piece of dogshit on the street. Smelled like it too. It was a semi-special grade that had popped up in an abandoned hospital. It was the subject of a bountiful amount of paranormal fans, which meant a handful of people and teenagers had disappeared after entering its premises.

Ah, didn’t I go on a mission like this once? You thought to yourself.

“Or was it Utahime’s mission?” you muttered.

She — the curse — opens her split mouth to screech. Her white hair flies behind her as she furiously charges towards you. The corners of your mouth twist in disgust. What a wretched being. Her hands were bound behind her back as she was in a straight jacket. So far, her attacks had been long-distance but the ones that truly hurt were when she got close enough to sink her teeth in.

The chunk of missing flesh on your hand was proof of that. It was covered by your tie but those blackened veins were a clear sign of trouble if you didn’t exorcise her.

“Yeah, yeah. Come and get it, bitch.” Tucking in your chin while taking a quick breath as her horrendous form gets closer, you feel the familiar rush of energy flowing through you. She was running like a bat out of hell. Her chin probably would’ve been shaved off if she bent any lower — her disgusting mouth was slobbering all over as she unhinged her jaw. She lunges and you release a breath. With your outstretched hand, palm facing up, you press the sides of your pointer and middle finger together. The curse screams, her teeth now a hair away from biting the tips of your finger off.

“Divine Flame.”

The birds seem to freeze midflight and the ants appear static; even the clouds above the building had been glued in place. She sees your lips split into a grin, a puff of air that mocks hers as she struggles to breathe. The curse drags her ruby-red eyes to the spark of black that ignites on your fingertips. "Gods Blade."

A second ago, she was so close to taking your wretched hand off and leaving it a bloody stump. Her stomach wants nothing more than to savour the flesh of a sorcerer and hear him scream in agony as she triumphs in the fight. The memory of it, the bright flash of white that burned her skin off her flesh. She can still taste it in her mouth, she can feel the phantom pain of it slicing the back of her throat. Everything tasted like smoke and blood. As you kick her head, she tumbles until she is gazing up at the sky.

The sky?

What happened to the roof?

The sight of her shaking pupils made you scoff. The building was torn down. Sliced cleanly in half according to the angle of your fingers; everything your technique made contact with was bright orange, smoking, and singing. Cement crumbles into ash, and metal turns to oozing and bubbling liquid.

“Shit. I haven’t used that move in a while. I’m sorry, I’m in a rush, okay? I think I went overboard.” Thankfully, Kiyotaka had raised a veil or else you’d never hear the end of it. The building shudders with each step you take. She watches as you crouch next to her, grabbing a fistful of her white hair and bringing her eyes level with yours.

“Not that you don’t deserve it. You glutton. 14 people in three weeks? You brought this on yourself.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she feels your palm warm and warm and then it burns. Her screams were like nails on a chalkboard but you bore through it. Staring into the black flames that consume her you ponder about your agenda; those spikes of fury remind you of Megumi’s gravity-defying hair.

“You’re really shitty, you know that right?” she’s down to her bones now and it’s slowly piling up into a mountain of ash. Still, she finds it in herself to scream. “Your crappy domain was creepy. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in Japan. I’m just settling in. You were supposed to be a simple mission. Now you fucked up my hand and I’m covered in soot.”

Suguru would surely laugh at you. He often did when you were muttering to dying curses. It was a habit you formed, wanting to annoy them to the very end about your minuscule grievances. They weren’t to you but the curse spirits probably felt like tearing your head off as they died.

“(Y/N), you’re really unique, huh?” Suguru leaned against the red-bricked wall with his arms stuffed in his pockets. Shoko watched impassively by his side, holding a plastic bag filled with burn relief gel. It’s not as though your flames burn you. The heat they produce stung your skin. You suppose you’ve built endurance to it but you appreciate your friends pampering you; your clan was ruthless in fine-tuning your abilities, and there was no such thing as pain-relief creams or gels.

The (L/N) weren’t like the Major 3 of Japan. They were considered to be imitations. Mocked for their gaudy technique names and overzealous attack styles but weak bodies. In order to chase after the huge power gap, your clan brought the children to their knees. Grinding them forcefully on whetstones; until they either become sharp-edged or they break.

As the son of the head of your clan, breaking was not an option.

Luckily for them, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique. Unluckily for you, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique.

Your pout makes him smile. “Calling me unique feels like an insult, Su-Su,” you turn your attention toward the husk of a curse. He was pinned to the wall with one of Suguru’s spear-wielding curses as he was being toasted by your curse technique.

“I’m just trying to make them pass on easily.”

The curse warbles its disapproval as he shakes his head, its skin flaking and smoking. Shoko crouches beside you, unboxing the gel after you spread your fingers and exorcise it.

“I think it might’ve cursed you instead,” Satoru appears with canned drinks. He presses it tenderly to your warm cheeks as Shoko tends to your hands. “Here, you did most of the work today,” he thinks nothing of how flushed you seem and simply shrugs it off when you avert your gaze. Satoru ruffles your head, which erases the blush into nothing but annoyance,

“Man, can you believe we’ll be second-years soon? We’ll have juniors to bully,” Satoru says with too much glee. Suguru knocks the back of his knees with his own and Shoko and you barely muffle your laughter.

Kiyotaka smiles warmly as he spots you. It falls as his veil disappears to reveal the ruined building.

“Mr. Gojo…” Kiyotaka gasps with his hands curled to his chest. He must be pissed, Kiyotaka thinks as he glances your way. “Mr. Gojo!” you lift a hand to stop him from fretting over your bleeding hand, unknowingly showing him your fingertips.

“You used — “

“Principal Yaga won’t appreciate my tardiness, Kiyotaka.” The tie around your gaping wound unravels and he rushes to open the car door for you. “Ms. Ieiri will tend to me just fine, I’m not going to die. Oh, and please just call me (Y/N), Kiyotaka. Honestly, we’ve known each other for so long, I feel bad if you kept calling me using honorifics.”

How can he be married to Satoru? He thought as he nodded at your words. Half the time he’s expecting to be beaten up by Satoru, the way he speaks sometimes is as if he is deaf to how crass it is. As he rushes to get into the driver's seat, you try your best to tend to the soot and ash on your fingertips.

Kiyotaka watches you from the mirror. What worries him is the missing chunk from your left hand. The irritated edges and bulging veins weren’t easing his worries either. “Mr. Gojo,” you lift your head with a polite grin. Kiyotaka unconsciously returns it.

“Your husband left some burn relief gel at the back of the driver's seat,” he says. It leaves you stunned. He says nothing as your cool expression turns bashful. He was glad to see you find relief despite your twitching wound.

“I’ll drive you there as fast as I can, Mr — “

“Kiyotaka,” you huff.

“M-Mr — Mr. (Y/N).”

It’s strange what a familiar sight can do. Seeing the peeks of the sloped rooftops made your palms clammy. This was a form of torture and of that you are certain.

With every step taken to climb towards your destination, the wind carries forgotten voices and laughter. This school was a picture you kept in a box under your bed; meant to collect dust and only seep out through the cracks in the forms of nostalgia. Seeing it materialize the closer you get makes your throat tighten. The tree branches dance in the wind and sunlight falls into step. This would be scenic in any other circumstance.

You had no one to blame but yourself. Satoru may have pestered you to agree but he didn’t force your hand; you caved in all by yourself.

‘ Get a grip, ‘ you scolded yourself. This was doable. The anxiety that’s coursing through your veins does not compare to everything you’ve already been through. First-day jitters are all it is. Megumi will be there with his friends, Yuuji and Nobara.

Along with them, Satoru’s other students would meet you again!

They were all great kids (and an amazing panda). You’ve only ever seen them in passing, sometimes Satoru would’ve asked for you to meet him whilst his students were already there. They were a memorable bunch. Meeting with a cast-aside Ze’nin daughter had shocked you. It was no surprise she narrowed her eyes at you.

It was fair. The elitist nature of the major clans of the sorcery world was hard to escape and unlearn. Satoru could escape unscathed due to his curse techniques, spoiled by everyone and entrusted as head of the Gojo clan the second he was deemed worthy enough. But for Maki? She had to steel herself when your eyes landed on her. Especially because you were dressed in traditional attire, the silk of your clothes decorated with the sigil of your clan and Gojo's (your half-sibling had just been born, so you wore it to celebrate her first birthday).

You simply offered a downward gaze and nodded as a greeting. Flashing her a quick show of teeth that you showed to Toge and Panda as well.

“Mr (Y/N), are you okay?” Kiyotaka’s hands hover over your shoulder. You’ve half a mind to swat them away. He means well but at the moment you need someone whose heart isn’t racing louder than yours. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. You weren’t going to die, Kiyotaka just needed to get that memo.

“I’m well. Let’s just hurry before — “

“(Y/N)?” Satoru's presence causes Kiyotaka to stiffen up like a board. His footsteps approach you from behind. You prepare for the questions he's bound to ask. He doesn't say much, simply does a once-over on you, then focuses on the bloody bandages around your hand. An attempt to hide it behind you was made though he’s already reaching to pull it into the light.

“Satoru, it’s fine. Shoko can fix it up, I’m already late. Principal Yaga is going to have my head.” Satoru reluctantly lets your wrists fall. “You’ve got 25 minutes before the meeting actually starts. I built a reputation for being 7 minutes late for a reason. Why doesn’t anyone else abuse it?”

The twitch of your brow makes him grin. Satoru greets Kiyotaka with a nod and he promptly greets the couple a goodbye.

Satoru stays. It seemed as though Satoru was following along on your impromptu trip to Shoko’s.

“He’s excited to see you, even though he won’t say it,” he turns his head in your direction. “He sure is attached to you. All he ever does is be snarky to me. How come I’m getting all the teen angst?” he makes you guffaw.

“Can you blame him, Satoru?” you snort. “Megumi is pretty guarded after what his step-mom and his father did. I don’t blame you for taking on so many missions either but I did end up staying home more often compared to you. Besides, you’re love language of gift-giving looks more like buying love sometimes.” Satoru’s jaw goes slack and his brows pinch into that annoying expression.

“You’re saying I’m like a rich benefactor rather than a parent?”

“More like a gay uncle who likes giving expensive gifts,” you grunt as he tugs on the lobes of your ears. He’s not that offended by your words, it’s not as though you’re denying that he cares for Tsumiki and Megumi. Simply stating that they still hadn’t bridged the gap. Partly due to his frequent goings and partly due to Megumi’s abandonment issues.

It must sting to know your father sold you to a family who only cared about your abilities. It’s no wonder he keeps his walls high. You’re excited to see his friends climbing it, hoping his fortune is as bountiful as his name.

“Must you be so blunt, husband?” Satoru opens the door for you, eyeing the stains on your shirt. "I heard it was a semi-special grade," you shudder at the reminder, "did she cause you so much trouble? It's been a while since you've used God's Blade."

The fluorescent lights of Shoko's don't help your nerves. The theme of today seems to be revisiting memories. The chill in the building does not ease you in the slightest. It reminds you of the same eerie hallway you'd be escorted to, the sickening green-blue lines of light that light the path would make your palms clammy every time. Those five men were akin to statues as they held onto the thickly bound rope plastered with talismans.

"She couldn't talk just yet but managed to create a weak domain. I don't know why. I wasn't expecting it. It was so unsettling."

Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, stroking your shoulder as he steers you through the hallway. He knows you don't like long hallways with cold lights. Satoru doesn't ask the why's or what's. Those rigid lunches and dinners with your father and stepmother are all he needed.

Shoko's eyebrows jump at the sight of the both of you walking in.

"Hello, lovebirds," she stands from her chair, "d'you guys need some condoms or something?" The joke earns her an unamused expression while Satoru just chuckles.

"My dearest husband was injured in battle."

Your exclamations of protest fall on deaf ears as Satoru forces you to sit at Shoko’s check-up station. She idles over, pushing Satoru away with a gloved hand. Her touches are careful and light as she takes a close look at the wound.

Then, she grasps your other hand and you can’t help the gentle smile that graces your face as she tuts at the sensitive skin. “You’re here to meet the Principal, right? This won’t take long. You owe me dinner.”

“Yes, Ms Ieiri,” you coo. It was an odd sensation, to feel your flesh regrow, veins stitching together as muscles intertwine. Meanwhile, Satoru is moving around in her office, sticking his head in cabinets and drawers while you wash your hands. Shoko does nothing to stop your meddling husband.

“Found it!” Just as you turn, Satoru’s face looms over yours. Your gasp is choked on the lollipop he puts in your mouth. Shoko’s stethoscope is looped around his neck and her spare doctor's coat makes him look absolutely ridiculous.

"A treat for being such a good boy at the doctor's office today!"

“Those might be expired, by the way,” Shoko says. “‘Toru!” he giggles unabashedly, avoiding your wrath with glee.

“Mr. Gojo is married!?”

Megumi regrets ever saying it in the first place. Nobara and Yuji are staring at him with wide eyes, practically sparkling with curiosity.

“Did you guys not see the ring on his finger?” The chair creaks as he leans back, crossing his arms as they place their elbows on his desk. “Now that you mentioned it, I have noticed it. I didn’t think he was married,” Nobara tilts her head. “I mean, I guess he is pretty good husband material,” Yuji says. “He’s strong, handsome, and he’s generous too!”

“The lip balm he wears is expensive too,” Nobara nods as she speaks. “It’s not that expensive,” Megumi mumbled though the two simply ignored him. He was on another financial level. His standard of ‘expensive’ had been skewered.

“He just doesn’t seem like he has a wife. How does she put up with his childish attitude?”

Footsteps come from the hallway. Megumi says nothing as Nobara and Yuji press their faces to the indoor windows, trying to steal glances. His heart picks up its pace as he clasps his hands together. He kept his guard up for a reason. He expects disappointment so he can never feel that fear of abandonment — a childish wish. Your trips overseas were something he didn’t think would make him fearful again, so he iced them out the best he could. But now that you were back, he felt entirely too excited.

“Shh! Itadori, shut up! Let me sit here!”

They wrestle for the chair closest to the door. The ridiculousness of it has Megumi hiding his smile behind his palm, rolling his eyes fondly. Nobara wins and Megumi buries the feeling of excitement that Yuji is sitting close.

The doors rattle open to reveal Satoru. The silence that greets him disturbs him enough to hesitate to take a step inside. Instead, he stretches his neck and lets his head jump from one student's face to the other.

“Is this some sort of ambush? Why are your faces so intense?”

“Mr Gojo!” Yuji exclaims (he doesn’t need to). Raising from his seat, Yuji plants his palms on his desk and speaks: “Is it true that you’re married and that your spouse is going to be teaching us?”

Satoru beams, one long leg crossing over the threshold. Megumi spots a flash of (H/C) coloured hair and no matter what he does he can’t stop his heart from squeezing in anticipation.

“A guy like me? Of course, I’m married!” Satoru wiggles his fingers in the air. The ring is a simple silver band with a beautiful gem held preciously by silver roots. It was personal, something that would twinkle under the light but remain bashful in any other setting; it didn’t make it any less beautiful or inexpensive.

Nobara stands next. “What is she like? How does she put up with you? Is she cool?”

Soft laughter floats inside. Megumi’s shoulders hug his neck as you walk into the room. You were dressed in a nearly identical faculty uniform to Satoru’s though there were little adjustments and accessories here and there that made it more your own.

“They’ve been your student for less than a week, and they already wonder how your spouse puts up with you, husband,” your eyes meet Megumi’s and turn warmer. Nobara and Yuji gasp, eyes going comically wide as they stare at you.

“They’re overexaggerating. I’m an amazing teacher.” Electing to ignore your pouting husband, you address the first-year students with your hands politely folded in front of you.

‘ Ah, always so proper, ‘ Satoru thinks. It’s probably where Megumi’s manners got reinforced because it sure as hell wasn’t from Satoru. You really were a marvel. How lucky would anyone be to be yours? An idea popped into his marvellous brain. Satoru suppresses his urge to rub his hands together schemingly though hopes Nanami won't mind that he meddles a bit with his mission.

“My name is Gojo (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet all of you. Mr Gojo has told me what promise all of you show.”

Yuji doesn’t pretend not to notice the way your eyes linger on him. He stiffens up, jaw locking as he feels his tongue spasm. Your eyes — the colour of it seemed to sway, like a flame dancing in the dark. It was spine-chilling.

To stand next to Gojo Satoru, to be his husband — to be his equal. Yuji imagines you must be strong. He wonders what your curse technique is. He is not the only one wondering. Deep in the recesses of his soul, four eyes split open and illuminate the darkness.

“We were thinking of taking all three of you on a field trip around Tokyo!” Satoru says with glee.

“It better not be like yesterday’s trip to Roppongi,” Nobara mutters. You glance towards Satoru, brow raised in question while he laughs innocently at Nobara’s accusing glare.

Megumi takes note of the smell of ash, and cobalt gaze immediately dropping to your folded hands and narrowing as he notices how irritated your fingertips look.

“You’ll enjoy this trip, trust me. Everyone can show off their skills to Mr Gojo, even Megumi,” Satoru said. Megumi's cheeks burned at the callout despite that, he was excited. He learned a lot in those 4-months and he has much to show you. Nobara snickers at his annoyed expression but catches Yuji’s lack of response. Satoru did as well though since there were no marks or mouths sprouting on his face he elected to wave it off as him being stunned by you.

For being a man? Surely, not. Perhaps for your handsomeness? That seems very likely.

It wasn’t as though he was sullen, just tight-lipped as he smiled and guffawed at the ongoing conversation.

“You may call me Mr (Y/N). It might be confusing for everyone if you both refer to us with our surnames." Satoru pretends not to grimace at the lame excuse. It was not for their sake. It was for yours and his. In 8 months, you would no longer bear the heavy weight of his name, placing it on a mantle of your victories and regrets.

“Gojo?” Kento’s voice causes you to jump. He felt bad for disturbing you from your reading, you looked so peaceful. It's been a while since he's found time to sit down and digest the words of a book. The mountain of unread literature in his home begs for a crumb of his attention — they remain untouched until he's sure he won't die without reading the final chapter. That would truly be a nuisance. The cafe had the smell of fresh paint quickly being overshadowed by freshly baked pastries and brewed coffee.

Kento apologizes for startling you. An apology you wave off, setting your book down after slipping the bookmark between the yellowing pages. The spine of it was cracked and the front of it slightly warped despite the plastic cover it was wrapped in. "A good read?"

“It was my mother’s favourite book,” you trace the title on the cover, sheepishly grinning. “She left some of her books in my possession after her passing. It got banged up after a mission with a curse in America, some alligator curse.” “What is it about?” His voice was so deep. Had it always been that deep? Admittedly, you’d only had the pleasure to see Kento again during Suguru’s proclamation of war. At that moment, you weren’t ogling him or relishing in the baritones of his voice. He’d grown up to be a handsome man. Those high cheekbones and strong eyes finally settled on his face. Despite the coat he wore, you could tell his body was chiseled and firm. Muscles stacked on muscles. He’d always been studios — his technique did require a more hand-to-hand approach. It didn’t surprise you. Most active sorcerers tend to train their bodies in order to survive strenuous missions.

As students, you recalled having sparred with him a few times. It didn't surprise you he became a Grade 1 sorcerer. With his flexible ability and his sharp wit, Kento was a force to be reckoned with then, you cannot imagine what he's capable of now. “It’s a bit dark,” you turned the cover to him, “it’s about a woman whose sister and old friend from school died. They were murdered. We follow her through her memories of them and her emotions. It’s quite interesting if you have the stomach for it,” he takes the book as you slip it into his hands.

Your fingers brushed and your ears warmed up.

‘ Ah, stop it. Stop it! You are (Y/N), a powerful sorcerer. Stop acting like a schoolgirl! ‘ “It was inspired by a murder in 1997.” Kento reads the synopsis on the back, his eyes drinking in every syllable. You wonder if his gaze is always so intense. Do they soften when he leans in to kiss? Thankfully, the book distracts him from your aggressive sipping of your drink. "Is the protagonist compelling?" After all, what's more horrid than a boring storyteller. Kento has consumed his fair share of bland-tasting media. It was just how life is, he supposes. Still. It didn't mean he was any less disappointed.

He flips through the first few pages. His touch was featherlight as he traced the edge of the pages. "She's angry," you reply after a moment of contemplation. "She is...unapologetically resentful, overly judgemental. But, for some reason. It's almost relieving to read," he watches you scratch the back of your neck as if admitting it out loud made you a bad person. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for it in bookstores. This looks intriguing.” Kento hands the novel back to you. You’re only a little disappointed that your fingers don’t brush again. He reaches into his coat as you put the book back in your bag. The file he pulls out makes you sober up from the butterflies in your stomach.

Right, this wasn’t a date — despite Satoru's jests — this was a mission. It must be a pretty daunting one if two Grade 1 sorcerers were needed. “Gojo — “ Your huff makes Kento pause. “Honestly, Ken, just call me (Y/N).” Your eyes widen. Stumbling over your words, you try to apologize for your bluntness, your hair practically lifting and puffing like a panicked cat. It has been so long since you’ve been classmates. A whole decade had breezed past. Calling him by an old nickname after so long was so rude!

To your surprise, Kento smiles. It’s unlike Satoru's, free and sharp, the corners curled like a sly fox as he set his sights on adventure. Kento’s smile was reliable, assuring you without words. Like a prince, though one that was gentler in his ways of living compared to the gallivanting knight that is Satoru.

“Only if I can call you, (nickname).”

Yū’s face floats to the surface. You had given Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Kento their nicknames.

Satoru, ‘Toru. Suguru, Su-Su. Shoko, Ko-Ko. Kento, Ken.

Yū, well, you had trouble giving him one considering how short his name already was. So he gave you a nickname instead. It stuck more than the others, every time you saw him he’d immediately call you that and you’d struggle to find a nickname that’d stick for him.

After his death, nobody called you that anymore.

If spirits were kept alive through memory, you’re certain Yū’s was thriving thanks to Kento. His classmate, his best friend. What an honoured spirit he must be. Kento was a quiet man, your mother often said those stoic ones were filled with such blinding love it left them tight-lipped so as to not overwhelm others. You wonder if your feelings have tainted Suguru in any way. The very thought makes your knuckles whiten. How awful. You hope he does not resent you.

You remember visiting Kento after Yū’s funeral, leaving food for him at his front door for weeks until you found out he had moved out.

That was a dark summer.

“Of course you can, Ken.” He stands as you do, falling into step next to you as you make your way towards your destination.

This was an interesting mission. It was located in an alleyway that once harboured a noodle shop. Something chased away the people. The building on the right was an abandoned temple, and the building on the left was a nightclub that was torn down after a murder happened.

An unlikely set of locations sprinkled with fear and isolation. The perfect breeding ground for curses. The mix of religious trauma and debauchery formed a mass that seemed forcefully threaded together by a thick rope in the center that looked oddly like noodles.

What peeved you about it was that it took less than two hours for Kento and you to investigate and exorcise it.

He swung his weapon in the air, the dissipating gore of the curse splattering on the walls in a spray. You’re waving away some dust and debris, coughing as you crush a minor curse’s head under your boot. This mission was dangerous, a perfect mission for a Grade 1 sorcerer.

A Grade 1 sorcerer.

It hardly required a duo.

‘ Satoru, ‘ you’re choking him in your mind. This must be his doing. He'd joke about setting you up with Kento but you thought it was that, a joke.

A heavy hand places itself on your shoulder, turning to face him you’re caught by how close your faces are. “Are you alright?” your body twists and you can't remember when he got so tall.

“I’ll be sore, but it’s nothing new.”

You were his favourite out of his upperclassmen. Kento never said that out loud, he wasn’t sure why; you weren’t the quietest or most polite. You were any other teenage boy. Except that was a lie.

(L/N) (Y/N). You were a product of your clan’s race to stand out. The destiny many searches for was laid out ahead of you the second you were conceived.

But you were kind. Not that the rest of the upperclassmen weren’t. You were different, a shining light that Kento finds himself gravitating towards like a moth to a flame. You were the night sky, twinkling and watching those around him. Kento was a mere mortal. All he could do was admire from the ground as he helplessly reached up to embrace deities.

He slides his hand down to your arm, and the reaction is immediate. Pain shoots up your arm, blood hidden by the dark uniform. Kento undoes his tie and wraps it above the bleeding cut. It’s crazy what adrenaline can do to you.

“Kento, you didn’t have to,” you wince as he tightens it. He offers no apologies though his jaw still clenches.

You were strong, your ranking was proof of that. But you were a (L/N). Kento heard of the rumours they tell about your clan's weak bodies but overeager abilities. It was a nice way to say that your clan was in over your head. As history notes, your clan was more devious than forthcoming. Hailing from ninjas or assassins or whatever it is that seemed more malicious.

“I’ll bring you to the school,” his tone was resolute. “It’s just a cut,” he frowns as he takes another look at it. It was deep, not bone-deep, but deep.

He’s terrified that there’s truth in them. The rumours. As you stand here with your heated cheeks and too-warm touch, he’s worried that your brain is overheating. Or maybe your blood is boiling and killing you. You could drop dead right in front of him right now, despite the amount of times you get up each and every time.

He’s terrified, (Y/N). He cannot lose another person he cares about. Kento absolutely refuses to do that all over again.

“Kento,” that stubborn purse of your lips never did go away. He can see the fight you have in you, that fire that fuels you.

As you smile, Yū’s face eclipses yours. For a split second. Just a second. It makes Kento loosen his grip. “I’m fine, Ken. Swear it,” he reluctantly lets you go.

“I apo — “

Your fingers thread through his. They’re intertwined and your grip is firm.

‘ I’m here, ‘ each squeeze relays, ‘ I’m safe, Kento. ‘

The coolness of your ring on his skin earns you a firm press.

He’s content watching you from afar, Kento had long decided that would be his fate. There was no honour in it. He sure as hell didn’t expect a heavenly reward for it. Perhaps he’s a fool for living the way he does. Kento knows he's lying to himself. Deep down he wants nothing more than to kiss you, hold you, make you his, and let him be yours.

But Kento’s fear of losing you outweighs his love for you. Staying by Gojo Satoru's side ensures your safety, wealth, status and prosperity.

Kento will be content with that. Tripping through these messy tangles of heartstrings would just be how his life went. Even if Gojo Satoru did not deserve you, he provided you with more.

He would come home without fail. He was the strongest.

“After we patch up, let me buy you dinner tonight, (nickname). We can catch up.” The offer brightens your expression. You’d always been so divine when you smile, (Y/N).

“(Y/N)?” Satoru always smells so sweet before bed. It’s the lotion he puts on his skin, specifically everywhere else Fushiguro Toji had stabbed him.

It was expensive and meant to heal and moisturize damaged skin. They’re barely there anymore. The only proof of that day was nothing more than stark lines, and barely blushed skin that hides beneath his bangs. It was just routine now, a habit he couldn’t break. Or perhaps, a reminder for him; to know what it felt like to bleed out, to die, to let others die. The day he ascended to the heavens and became the honoured one. The day everything shifted.

“Oi, (Y/N).” You’re burying your face into his neck and Satoru stiffens. He’s ticklish there, he’s told you that before.

“Are ya’ drunk? Did Nanami get you drunk?” His voice lifts in amusement at the end. He'd heard that Nanami was quite a heavy drinker from what Shoko had told him. He hadn’t expected you to come here after a date. He was nearly asleep when you stumbled into the bedroom. Did you forget your new address? Satoru feels your hands tighten around his waist. A blanket of sadness shrouds you.

“Oi. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. Never in a million years would you fathom hating grain or bread. It wasn't her fault for holding Kento's heart but what sort of cruel joke was this? The gods were mocking you. Satoru swallows thickly as your lips brush the junction of his shoulder and neck.

“Did Nanami do something?” His anger was immediate, you could taste it from how close you were. Had he always been so responsive to your emotions? All it took to make him lose his coolheadedness was a suspicion that someone had hurt you.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

“Ken, he dropped me off here.” Your legs stumble as you sway so Satoru holds your hips. He can smell the grilled meat from your hair, the alcohol from your breath, and the antiseptic wound dressing under your clothes.

“You didn’t bring him home?” Satoru teases.

“He brought me home.” Satoru can feel your lashes tickle his neck. Your breath is fanning that barely-there-scar and it makes gooseflesh ripple across his skin. Right, in the public’s eye, this was still your home. Kento was a gentleman, of course, he’d send (Y/N) back to his husband.

“This is my home, S'Toru,” he agrees with you with a nod, “Of course, beloved. We should get you ready for bed, yeah?”

His breath gets caught in his throat as he takes you in. The moonlight makes your skin look absolutely ethereal. Those tales of forest spirits with decadent forms and whispering eyes that lure men to their deaths pale in comparison to you. The drunken flush that looks silly on others makes you look like you’re a teenager all over again. Your gaze was unfocused, jumping or lingering from one thing to the next.

But your eyes meet him and they're so dark. He’s taken aback. It happens when someone’s in a dim room like you are currently. Your pupils dilate to let more light in. Satoru knows that’s not the case. You’re 17 again and the windows to your soul betray you by letting Satoru in. It’s silly what humans do when they’re in love. How our eyes insist on seeing more of them. Take in every microscopic detail despite not having the ability to do so. Fluttering those eyelashes as if curling a coy finger.

' Come, ' your eyes are saying. ' Let me show you where I ache the most, this void in my chest. Come. Inhabit me. Bare your soul to me. '

The act of kissing is perhaps the silliest. Moulding your lips with another person, feeling them against you as your soul breathes into their body. It’s Satoru’s favourite sensation. The intimate act of it all, of breathing life into someone you love. It was almost cannibalistic in a way. As you stand in front of him, hiccuping from all the drinks you took and only being supported by his hands Satoru can’t stop the way his gaze lingers on your lips. Satoru wants to kiss his husband. He wants to feel your soul burn him from the inside and he wants you to harbour his own in yours.

“Why can’t I just sleep now?” You mumble. Satoru’s palm cools your flushed cheeks, his thumb ghosting the edge of your lips.

“You smell like grilled meat and beer,” he traces your jawline and cups the back of your head to pull you into his embrace. Too drunk to care about how fast your heart is beating, you simply let it happen. Satoru’s big hands travel down and he shushes you when you squirm.

Down to the sides of the waist, then to your hips, further down and down until he catches the back of your knees. He lifts you so you wrap your arms around him, going all but limp.

“Grilled meat and beer smell great! I’m so sleepy, please,” he chuckles as you kick your feet. “I prefer if the bedsheets smell the way they do now. Man, how much did you have to drink?”

The hiccup you make when he sets you on the counter makes him shake his head. Satoru tells you to lean back so he can undress you. It’s amusing to see the emotions on his face as he does.

The metallic scent still lingers judging from how Satoru’s nose is twitching. Suppose the new jacket you got did little to mask it. He unbuttons your undershirt and his eyes widen. At that, you turn to breathe in the mirror, entranced by the way your breath leaves traces of itself on the smooth surface.

Satoru ignores the way your chest stutters as he traces the outlines of the fucked up star-shaped scar on your chest. It was a sick imitation of your skin colour. So close to your heart, too close. Your hand rests on top of his as you trace his knuckles.

“There aren’t a lot of doctors like Shoko overseas,” Satoru slips his hand away from you. It rests on the big scar on your side now. He can feel the marred skin beginning from your back all the way to the front, like a sickle. He can imagine it, see the way a claw or a tooth had nearly split you in half if you hadn't gotten out of the way.

It must've ached. He would know. Muscles being torn apart viciously, bone thudding so harshly on the ground that sometimes he's convinced it's broken. You must've been in pain — muscles and nerves screaming at every movement despite whatever sorcery was used to heal it.

Scars are a part of the sorcerer society. It’s a rite of passage just as much as dying is. He’s not surprised you have them. He’s seen your bare torso before. When it’s an unbearable hot summer or on a beach, you’ve chosen to shed a few layers. Sometimes, you’d even sleep topless if it was too humid.

Each time, Satoru would find himself looking at your scars. Counting them, wondering where some came from and what mission caused it. Or was it an accident? A childhood scar that never went away. Was it your training?

Was it your father?

He never asked. Satoru didn’t want to say anything for fear that you’d no longer be comfortable around him. The ones he remembered, he'd let his gaze linger on but the others? No. It felt shameful to ask. So he never knew. Simply wondered.

In those four months, why had your scars increased? The severity of it looked more and more painful.

“You’re usually not so careless,” fear grips him and his expression is so morbid you laugh. Satoru finds no amusement in it and his firm gaze makes your chuckle fade away.

“Maybe my family’s curse is catching up to me.”

“That isn’t a laughing matter.” Satoru knows you’re not completely immune to the flames you cast. You’ve certainly grown a tolerance for it (and other flames), once or twice he recalls you casually patting away at the inky flames that catch on your clothes. But it’s a great technique.

Too great some would say.

Divine Flame. A technique that enabled the user to control cursed wildfires. To manipulate it to burn through nearly everything it came into contact with. A searing black that makes you sweat even from a distance. That is so bright when cast, it blinds those who dare gaze upon it.

The whispers of your clan making a deal with a cursed spirit followed you everywhere you went. People claim that your ancestors made a Binding Vow to become great sorcerers. To rival the other houses and to fill the void of power that Sukuna Ryomen left your society in after he massacred great clans.

But your ancestor got greedy and the vow was broken, which left canyons of karma engraved in the bones of their children. It was why your clan could never flourish. It was why the children die out, why the women grow barren and the men weak.

It was ridiculous but Satoru himself wonders if there’s truth in it.

Why would the Gods give you a body you couldn’t sustain? Were you truly cursed? This mighty curse technique engraved into your skeleton burns you from the inside out; is it hurting you?

If it was, Satoru would demand the Gods to come down and face him. Why should you pay for the mistakes of your ancestors?

Why would they dare take more from you?

From Satoru?

Had they not have their fill?

Just rumours, he tells himself. If they — the Gods — dared taking you from him he'd raze heaven and hell.

“...You would tell me if it was, right?”

Has Satoru’s eyes ever looked as dark as they did now? There’s a ring of blue surrounding that endless void. As he peers up at you, all you can focus on is that sliver of heaven. That cerulean that reminds you of the sky and the sea, that you swear shines in mischief or glows like a good omen.

What is this darkness you're peering into? An abyss that whispers for you;

' Come. Let me show you, come, teeter over the edge and fall with me.'

“Would you stop it, Satoru?” your hands on his cheek make his skin burn. “This so-called ' great family curse, ' could you stop it?”

“I’d do anything to protect you, beloved.” He'd make the Gods ever regret making him fall in love with you.

You grin as your thumb swipes over his cheekbones and all thoughts of killing unreachable Gods dissipate. Satoru lets you come down from the counter, ready to catch you if you fall as you attempt to take your pants off.

Satoru is squirming like a worm under the sun. He’s sat on the toilet lid, refusing to let you tend to him. “Gojo,” your sigh makes him chew on his inner cheeks. Finally, you manage to get his shirt off and without that second skin, he feels far too cold.

You’re in nothing but a towel. Your funeral garbs are being tended to by servants. They were probably steaming out the wrinkles while you attempted to wring Satoru back into shape.

“I can do it by myself.”

He hasn’t eaten. What little he does eat is barely sustaining him. Satoru could barely stand after his adrenaline wore off, you truly hope he will not be stubborn. You reach for his boxers and he exclaims, once again;

“I can do it by myself!”

The blood that rushes to his head humbles him. Satoru stands and Satoru falls. You catch him, gasping out his name as your arm wraps themselves around him.

His face is on your chest, resting on your clavicles while your chin is on his shoulder.

Look away, he wants to tell you. Look away from me.

Suguru’s love letters are still dark on his pale skin. Like flowers blooming under sunlight, they decorate him from behind his ears to the nape of his neck. Satoru can recall pushing Suguru away as he did, his skin remembering unfeeling metal but Suguru kisses him and Satoru forgets it all.

He thought Suguru could forget it too. He tries not to cry but he does anyway. Satoru sobs into your chest and a part of you feels anger. It was your mother’s funeral.

Why the fuck is he crying?

But your grief is hanging outside the bathroom, neat and crisp and proper. It will weigh like boulders when you slip it on and you’ll feel your stomach twist into knots as you hold back the urge to vomit. In this bathroom, Satoru’s guilt is his and you’ll be there to wash it away.

He hates himself for it. He hates how you rub his back and shush him, gathering him in your arms as you stand so you can brush away all these feelings.

He couldn’t imagine going to his mother's funeral.

He also couldn't imagine Suguru not being by his side but that was now reality.

Your mother was a kind woman. Not naively trusting, barely had any faith in others his mother once told him. But she was warm despite it. Cunning underneath the pleasantries she shared.

His mother enjoyed her company. He can’t recall if she ever enjoyed anyone’s company other than his father and his own.

‘ She’s a wonderful woman. Shame she’s married to such a horrible man, ‘ she once told him.

“Let me wash your hair, Gojo.” The water hides his tears but you wipe them away regardless. You offer him a smile and Gojo can feel that tree of guilt sprout.

He catches you as you trip on your discarded pants and perhaps you should feel bashful or shy as your naked body is pressed against his clothed one. But you’re too drunk and too sleepy to care.

Your face rests on his chest and his chin is over your shoulder.

“Why do you call me that?”

Satoru turns the shower on, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist as he tests the temperature.

“Beloved?” You nod against him and the hair that tickles his throat doesn’t make his insides shudder in memory of that day.

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

He pushed you into the shower and the warm water has you groaning. He’s gentle as he manoeuvres your bandaged arm up, telling you to brace it on the wall to not get it damp.

His eyes are still so dark.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you point your finger at it. Neither of you addresses your blatant brush-off. He tells you to turn around and you do. From the corner of your eyes, you see his clothes getting tossed onto the floor and the sound of his hand's lathering soap has you fluttering your eyes closed.

He envies the careless way the water hugs you. How it slithers from your shoulders down to the curves of your legs. Rivulets of ambrosia ease your sore muscles in ways that he wished he could.

“People...people usually use baby or babe,” Satoru’s hands lather soap on your back and you lean forward to press your forehead on the wall.

“Hey,” it twists beneath your arm, brushing over your chest and tilts your head up. You can feel his chest hovering over your back and you wonder if there are raised lines where Fushiguro Toji stabbed him.

“Do you want me to call you baby or babe?”

You shrug, wanting to hang your head again but somehow keeping it exactly the way Satoru had positioned it even as his hand moves to your back again. “It’s because you’re dear to me. Calling you my dear sounds way too archaic though.” He smiles as you scoff, “As opposed to my beloved?”

You’re sobering up from the water. He can feel your muscles tensing under his touch.

“What did you call Suguru?”

You prayed that you didn’t ruin this moment. The sick curiosity of it all has rotted in you for too long. You need to know how great his love was, from his mouth alone.

If you’ve spent a decade of your life resenting yourself for being in love with a man who was never yours, you’d like to know if he was truly unreachable.

“I called him my one and only.”

He sees no point in hiding it from you. Satoru didn’t want to hurt you, he hoped if anything this would make you run into Kento’s arms. A restart, a good man who had more than enough money to make sure you wouldn't have to give up too many comforts (Satoru's money and Kento's were no laughing matter but his was as infinite as his abilities due to generational wealth). From what he gathered on Nanami, from previous partners to his parents and health, he was clean. You deserve that. His beloved, you deserve to be with a man who would never hurt you.

“Your one and only.” Your face is hidden from him. He wants nothing more than to turn you around so he can see what you’re thinking.

“But I am dear to you, Satoru?”

“You are. You’re,” he struggles to find the words. As he does, he struggles to say it.

Cutting him off, you tell him; “You are my first love, Satoru."

He inhales sharply. Crimson seeps from the gauze of your bandages. Staining the white with red. The pinpricks of pain barely register.

“Suguru was yours. I don’t hate you for it. I don’t blame you. You alone hold the sorcerer society’s expectations on your shoulders. Its happiness and misery are all on you. The strongest. I am vindictive. I am selfish.”

“Beloved, you’re not.”

You turn to face him. Here you are, standing in front of each other. Bare and vulnerable. You might as well say what you need to.

“I am, Satoru. I wanted you to hurt, I wanted you to be in pain, for 10 years all I ever wished for was for you to feel what I felt. My love for you was tainted by my own feelings by my own hate. He was your one and only. How could I hate you for that? How could I hate him for that?”

Satoru looks to the side, clenching his jaw as his hands ball up into fists. He shouldn't say anything more but there's this voice pleading for him to say it. Say that he forgives you despite the fact that you didn't need to apologize in the first place. Isn't this what couples do? They kiss and make up. After a decade of this, of wearing rings and honouring vows, you would think it was something the both of you got used to doing.

That's not what you are, in a few months, the only remains of this marriage will be harboured in memories alone. So why does this voice grip him so tightly? This hope that the both of you can actually be together...he needs to extinguish it.

“I’m glad we had each other throughout these years, I'm glad you stayed even if it was out of pity. Even if we were unhappy, even if I could not...please you. We’re friends, and I could never hate Suguru for being your great love.”

“Stop, please.” Your blood is trailing down your arm. Turning the water into a pale red as it swirls down the drain. “I married you so I could marry Suguru.” He releases a shuddering breath. Satoru’s words sobered you up like a slap to the face.

“I was 16. There were marriage proposals from everywhere, even from overseas. I didn’t want to marry them. Not because they were strangers but because my duties would pull me away from his side. But I was forced to. By higher-ups, by clan members, by my mother, the world was looking at me. You said it yourself. The misery and happiness of the world we live in depended on me. But I wanted Suguru more than anything."

He’s looking at you with tears in his eyes. It's your heart that's being shattered.

So why the fuck was he crying?

“I told him if I married you, we would divorce and you would understand the reason. Because you were our friend. Suguru said it was cruel. He knew you loved me.”

These words were like striking a match and holding it to the leaves of that beautiful willow tree you made him.

“Stop, Satoru.”

“I knew too.”

“Please, stop!”

“I — I didn’t...I would take it back if I could. But I can’t.” That voice within him withers to nothing. He pretends he doesn't feel his chest ache as he stares at your betrayal. Your arm pulses in pain but you can barely find it in you to care.

“My beloved — "

“You knew I loved you? All that time, you knew I loved you?”

Was this better? For all these years, you thought he chose you because he held some sort of fondness for you. Perhaps the comfort of familiarity wasn't too far off. But the fact that he chose you due to your proximity? The reason he was so insistent on binding your hands together in matrimony was due to distance?

In another life, Suguru is where you stand now. Except there’d be no distance. They’d be pressed together, lips locked with a passion even your flames couldn’t rival. Would you be happy in that life? Knowing that your marriage was all a facade until the honor was fulfilled and Satoru would whisk his true husband to the altar.

“You used me.” He tries to grab you but you flinch away, stumbling over your own feet as your back meets the wall.

“I’m so sorry.” "You keep saying that, Satoru!"

You needed to get away from him. There was no way this could work. Not as friends, not as husbands, not as anything more. It was foolish to think otherwise. You attempt to squeeze past him and out from the glass doors but he holds you by your shoulders.

Satoru holds you to his chest as you try to slip out of his grasp. You'd think it'd be easy since you were practically covered in soap suds. If your tears were gold, you'd be the richest man alive. He's glad you go limp, gathering you so close you can feel the raised skin of the scar he had.

Blood is seeping through the fine hairs on his arm, staining it as you hang your head in defeat. He turns you around and the foggy glass doors of the shower make your back arch.

He should stop. This absolutely won't end well. He's broken your heart, cremated it into dust. Was this his punishment from a past life? Had he scorned a lover? Was it you? Were the both of you destined to love each other this way?

Why must he love this way? You can't tell what's running through your veins right now. Adrenaline? Anger? Beer? You don't know what it is, but it makes you stay as he stares at you.

"Hate me if you need to. I can take it, (Y/N). I promise you I can."

That's the problem. You can't. The definition of hate had been skewered for you centuries ago. Maybe this is how you love Satoru; with bitter longing and resentment. They had four letters, practically indistinguishable from each other in your mind because that's what Satoru has done to you.

From the second you saw for the first time, he'd burned his very soul on your heart. Branded you like cattle with his smile, left cuts with every exhale and inhale as he laughed; this is what loving Satoru feels like.

How did Suguru manage? Was he a stronger man than you? You wish you could ask him. Would his cold corpse cushion your back with his chest, praising you for taking Satoru's sadistic love so well?

The tip of his nose brushes against your ear as he embraces you. This is what Satoru feels like slotted against you.

So many questions are running through your mind. None were answered. They kept buzzing and it's making your eyes water. The steam, the familiar scent of your favourite soap, and Satoru's fading sweetness as the lotion is washed off.

"I hate you," Satoru's breath does not hitch. He turns his head and your lips quiver as he brushes along your jaw. He can feel you trembling as his face hovers across yours. You should put distance between him. Scream and tell him to get away.

Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved by him.

Just.

Just once.

' Come. '

His eyes are still so dark.

' Inhabit me. '

So are yours.

' Let me show you. '

They flicker to your lips, pure white lashes do little to hide heaven away.

' Bare your soul to me. '

His cheek twitches when you place a hand on it. No barrier between your palm and his face. Being naked isn't the reason why you feel so exposed. It's the way he's looking at you. As if your very skin was peeled away, muscles torn apart, bones bashed to smithereens; as if he used Hallowed Purple and eviscerated you into nothing but the very essence of your soul. He drinks it in with that unlimited darkness.

' I have. Now fall with me. '

He kisses you.

It's not the other times when he tries to initiate intimacy. No. It isn't methodical, hesitant, awkward. On the other hand, it isn't passionate either. It's wet. It's pathetic. Both pairs of lips bumbling fools that try to make jagged pieces to fit. Tears sting in your eyes, and Satoru can't understand why he does this to you.

' Look at what I do to you, ' he thinks, ' all I do is hurt you. '

You gasp when his hand pulls you in closer.

Just once.

He needs to hold you like this just once.

To show you how he loves the only way he knows how — to devour you with his sin so you know how much he meant. He knows he shouldn't. This would only muddy the dark waters you tread through. But fuck it.

Fuck it.

Fuck the world. Fuck the higher-ups. Fuck the clans, fuck expectations, fuck Suguru, fuck Shoko, fuck Kento —

"Satoru," you're breathing into his mouth, lips still pushed against the other as you try to catch your breath. Praying at the altar of the body that holds your soul; Satoru is weakest before you.

His godhood is forgotten.

The strongest kneels.

The taste of him is making your head fuzzy. The pain feels insignificant and for a moment the heartbreak is forgotten.

"(Y/N)," there, where you ache for him, he's there.

His tongue feels like velvet. With one leg tossed over his shoulder, you're at his mercy. Those plush lips paint your skin, ushering your blood just under the skin's surface. The tugs on his hair make him groan as he leaves apologetic licks on your inner thighs.

"Satoru," your whisper could make a mountain bow. A brush of his teeth has you gasping. It's soon replaced with a moan as he takes your cock into his hands.

It's obscene. Sex was never meant to be anything but — however, the sight makes you feel dizzy.

This ethereal man is on his knees, cerulean eyes staring up at you as he kisses the tip of your cock. A hand squeezes the underside of the thigh on his shoulder, slithering up to your hip and reaching for your chest and neck. The whisper of his touch on your chin has you whimpering.

"Don't look away," he says, "keep your eyes on me, my beloved."

Your hands attempt to grab the purchase of the glass doors, but all you manage is a handful of steam. They cover the marks you leave as your palms press on the glass. Satoru's mouth and tongue feel like velvet — so warm and wet. When you nearly slip his nose is pressed to your pubic hair so he simply lifts your other leg. The only thing you can do is thrust into his mouth.

He strokes your hips, nails lightly scratching the surface as he encourages you to do as you please. The noises he makes go straight to your dick and you feel like you're losing your mind.

As you curl over, gripping his head, you can only see white. Satoru's throat is gulping all of your cum down, and the sensation of your cockhead being squeezed has your heels digging into his back.

Those 10 years of denying him felt ridiculous now.

There's a distinctly (Y/N)-shaped stain on the bed. There's still soap on your skin. The coldness in the air makes being wet and naked uncomfortable. But Satoru is there.

He's kissing you like he wants to eat you alive and you're weak to his whims. Your cock is in his hands, painfully hard as he strokes it and swallows every pitiful mewl you let out.

Here he is again, ruining you, branding you.

He's not entirely at fault. You let him.

It was not his fault he loved another and it was not your fault you loved him. He was a teenager, so were you. What did he know of consequences, of choice, of pain? He was 16, in love.

Were you truly vindictive? Why were you so devout in your worship?

What were you worshipping?

The tragedy of this marriage? The humour of it all is a great soap drama that the Gods peer down at to coo at.

"(Y/N)," he says your name like it was a prayer. Such reverence in his worship. His lips are trailing down to your neck and the scriptures of adoration he places on your skin make your back arch into him.

"Satoru," he answers his name with a whisper of yours. He takes a nipple in his mouth, teeth catching to feel your chest try to escape it. He doesn't let it. He tongues at the scar you have, pressing kisses there and to the scar on your side, the scar on your hip, the one on your thigh, the one near your belly button...

"(Y/N)," he'd whisper every time he does.

Satoru is in between your legs but you don't want him there. He grunts as you pull on his forearm, a breath away from showing you his dedication to you but he doesn't complain because you're kissing him.

He likes kissing you.

Satoru moves his jaw up and down, you can barely catch up but that isn't without trying. The feeling of his undercut makes your hand move to grab his hair so you can breathe. His forehead is on yours and water drips from his bangs as he pants.

That endless void; it reflects only you.

"(Y/N)".

It's your name that leaves his lips.

"(Y/N)."

He's pleading for you.

"My beloved."

You're dear to him.

Your grip loosens and he relishes the way your soul burns as it goes down his throat.

When he's inside of you, you were certain you were going to die. Life has taught you plenty of lessons and one of them was that nothing good came without a price.

His cock split you open as gently as he could make it. It was tight. You were grateful for his fingers that stretched you despite how uncomfortable it had been at first. Tears still fall as you try your best to breathe, Satoru kisses them away. He's braced on his arms with you underneath him.

It takes all his strength not to pound into you. He's barely halfway in and all he wants is to stay inside you forever. You're squeezing and he inhales sharply, a breathless chuckle escaping him.

"Easy, you're gonna cut my dick off, baby," you sniffle in response. Satoru reaches to pump your cock and shushes you as you moan out his name.

"I'm right here, beloved."

"Satoru," he meets you halfway when you lean up. His heart clenches as he tastes your tears, saying nothing as you laugh in between the lip-locking. His hips move and you clutch onto him tighter.

"Oh fuck, 'Toru." He's there. Nestled in the space he had molded inside of you. Satoru is sheathed fully. You're convinced you're about to die as your chest grows heavier. He cradles your face in his hand, wiping that steady flow of tears as he thrusts in and out. You simply let him, gasping for air and mercy as your body hangs onto him.

"(Y/N), fuck, (Y/N)," his nose curls as his lust-lidded eyes drink you in.

"'To - Toru, Satoru." He can feel your nails digging into his back. It stings but fuck does it feel good.

"More. Nuh - Need more, 'Toru. Need — "He nods. You don't have to say it. You need him.

"Me too, (Y/N). You feel s'good, s'fuckin' good."

When his hips rattle yours, it's enough to have you sobbing.

"Love you so fucking much," he says. You don't have to say it back. Because your eyes betray you. They only reflect him and you're sure this is how you die.

"Satoru."

With his name on your lips.

"Please."

Begging for his mercy.

"Satoru."

You ____ him.

The clouds are strangely dark today. Earlier this morning, the reporter had babbled on and on about the clear blue skies and bright sunny day. Weather predictions weren't an exact science, Satoru knew that, but the sky was not cheery much less sunny.

It was baleful.

The Gojo clan's grounds were meticulously opulent. Preserved history in every shimmering roof tile and old ghosts whispering tales from the creaking wooden frames. The servants are dressed to the nines as well. They lower their gaze with such grace, Satoru wonders if they're robots.

"Satoru, you've come home."

His mother does not meet him at the entrance, nor anywhere else other than her office. It's a traditional room with an open floor plan, despite her aging body she prefers sitting cross-legged as she works or writes or draws or whatever it is she likes to do.

If the sharpness of ice could be personified, it was his mother. It was spine-shivering every time someone told him that he resembled her. Her hair was colder than his own, having an almost silver tone to it compared to his lilac. Her eyes were almond-shaped with delicate double eyelids that lifted up at the end, which resembled a cunning fox. Satoru knows his nose was from hers, his chin as well although his lips were passed from his fathers instead.

"Yes, I have."

Before her, on the short-legged table (which she had commissioned from a talented craftsman), were the signed divorce papers.

It'd only been a day. There was no surprise, if anyone was going to find out it would not be the head of the (L/N) clan.

It'd be his mother.

"Was he not good to you, Satoru?" The shadows swallow his visage as a cloud covers the sun. "It was a mutual decision," he says, "we both thought it'd be best."

"Because of Itadori Yuji's death?" his brows pinched together. A sigh escapes her. "If you feel so much for children, I wonder why you never had some of your own. Men like yourself can have bloodlines now through extraordinary science." "It wasn't because of young Itadori."

"Well, it'd better have been for a good reason then. This divorce will not reflect badly on you. I know why you settled for (L/N) (Y/N) despite his clan's reputation. However cruel it was, you told me yourself you'd take responsibility. I recall you using your power as head of the clan to strong-arm the decision despite much more powerful families offering their sons for you. This ' mutual ' decision will only have a consequence on (Y/N)."

She sniffles prudently.

"I quite like him as my in-law. His late mother was an honorable lady. I do not wish for her to haunt you for hurting her son."

"I cannot keep him against his will. He wishes to be free."

She scoffs at him. He does not need to lift his eyes to know how sharp her scrutiny is. The clan may have spoiled him with care and affection, but his mother had not. A hand was never raised and she never yelled, however, she ensured that her son was able to lead studiously.

"Free? Of you?" she places her temple against the knuckles of her fist. "Do you beat him? Are your words harsh and cruel? Do you rule your house with an iron fist like his impudent father?" Satoru shakes his head, frowning at the very suggestion.

"Mother, of course, I wouldn't — "

"Do you take him despite his protests? Force him to labor heedlessly to your whims? Is there a lustier boy waiting for you in a seedy hotel?"

"Gods, no! What do you take me for!?"

Her brows cover her double eyelids as she glares at him. "Then what is it that he wishes to be free from? If you are not mistreating him, if you treat him kindly, what is the freedom he seeks?"

"My informants tell me he had signed it before you did. They tell me that he had moved to a penthouse 4 months ago, mere days after Geto Suguru's death."

The light filters through that grey cloud. It highlights the upturned tip of her nose, her pink-dusted cheeks, and her lilac eyes. She was such a refined beauty, it was no wonder her son was too. But this made her look especially cruel as she stared him down.

"I took responsibility, I told him what my initial intentions of marrying him were," he says. "You idiot," she seethed. "He was a respectable man. A good man. A strong sorcerer with a cunningness his late mother had passed down to him and you chose a dead man?"

"You humiliate him, Satoru. The poor boy will be eaten alive by the gossip. Will you take responsibility for that too?"

"How are you doing, my love?"

Megumi raises from below the covers. The distinct sound of the windows rattling open makes him rub the sleep from his. He takes a breath, then says; "I'll be training with the second-year students today with Kugisaki." He hears you exhale and he can see the gentle grin you have on your face even with your back turned to him.

“Is she going easier on you?”

“No point in training if they’re going easier on you,” he mumbles. It makes you laugh while you settle next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Fair. You still haven’t answered my question, Megumi.”

The silence drones for a minute. Despite this, you can tell what races through his mind. Memories bursting with every blink and laughter echoing in his ears. All the things he should not have to know, all those precious moments ripped away from him.

“Does it ever get easier?” His cobalt gaze is especially heavy as they dance around the room.

“Losing someone?”

You stared at the wisps of steam that escaped the spout of the kettle on the kitchenette. Losing a comrade was a rite of passage for sorcerers. Through death, through betrayal, through this or that. For you, you supposed, it was a gentle albeit tedious loss.

The morning after that night had left you nauseous. Satoru was awake just as you woke, and both of you silently, rigidly, stayed in the embrace. His toned arms wrapped around your torso, nose pressed to the top of your head whilst your lips were mere inches away from his neck. His grip tightens as you squirm but ultimately he lets you go.

You couldn't bear it. That night of bittersweetness, of passion you've been craving for, of weepy love confessions and apologies. Not anymore. So you signed the papers despite the 8 months left and sent them to him.

It's Megumi who witnessed the death — according to the reports he'd been fighting with Sukuna Ryomen all by himself. That trait you know he got from Satoru, not the cockiness, but the self-sacrificing resolve. You hate Satoru for tainting Megumi with it, even if most would call it valor.

There is no honour in a child dying.

“Yeah,” Megumi inhales through his nose. It stings. Every inhale is a reminder of Yuji’s last.

“No, it doesn’t. It stays, shrinking or stretching sometimes but it remains.” He had hoped you’d say something else. Tell him that one day he’ll forget about it all. That this sinking feeling will fade away.

But you know he wouldn’t want that. He’d want to remember. No matter how painful. To keep Yuji’s spirit alive, he’d remember.

“It’ll get easier to carry it though, that much I can promise you.” Your arm slips over his shoulders and cradles his head. He is pliant as you pull him in, closing his eyes as your lips press on his temple.

“I loved him, dad."

Megumi stares stoically, eyes rimmed with red. Those words strain to escape his chewed lips. It quivers and as much as he tries to stiffen it, a cry escapes him.

Megumi knew his time with Yuji was limited, he told himself he was content with what they had. He was a lamb sent for slaughter and the butchers were the higher-ups whose orders he fulfilled. Megumi felt like a butcher. He feels Yuuji's blood drying on his hands, he can still feel the weight of his body on his back when he carried it.

He remembers how tightly he held him when Satoru tried to pull Yuuji away from him. How unwilling he was to part with the boy who didn't deserve any of this to happen to him. Megumi starts gasping, bowing his head as he presses the heel of his hand to his teary eyes.

"Oh, Megumi." He turns into you and weeps. Body racking with sobs as you comb through his hair, curling over him as he clutches at your torso.

"I'm here, Megumi."

Tokyo is dark by the time you reach your home.

The beeping of your intercom makes you pause.

Ice-cold water travels down your spine at the overwhelming aura that comes from the front door. Although you hope for it to be Kento, or even Satoru — hell, even his mother would be great — you know who waits for you beyond that door.

To deny him what he wants will just make this more painful. What greets you as you open your door is your father’s hulking frame. Steeling your expression, you widen the door. No entourage waits in the hallway. It was just him. He always dishes out his punishments that way. He says nothing about it. Closing the door felt strangely final; the soft click and thud blanketed the penthouse in silence.

As you turn, a fist connects to your jaw. The force has your skull bouncing off the wall, crumpling to the floor.

There was a monster in your house. Trapped with you as it grabs fistfuls of your hair. It drags you to the living room, lifting and then slamming you down on the glass coffee table. The wood breaks and the glass shatters but at least it lets you go. Taking a desperate lungful of air you lift your arms to protect your head but it lifts a mighty foot placing it right on your chest.

Your ribcage screams its protests. When your hands fly out to desperately push its weight off, it merely places its knee on your chest instead. The pressure has you gasping, and blood blurs the vision in your left eye which doesn't help the disorientation. He grabs at your neck and you swear you feel your ribcage concave as you desperately try to breathe.

"You worthless child!" The beast roars. Finding a purchase of broken wood, you imbue it with cursed energy and strike it above its knee. It yells, shifting its weight enough for you to push it back and away.

Your back presses against the balcony doors and your hands tremble as you bring it to your chest and face.

The monster snarls, baring its teeth at you as it stands.

It's funny how much bigger he looks right now. It's as if you've shrunk back to being a child when you stopped being one a decade ago. It was frightening how much fear your father put in you.

When Tsumiki and Megumi first met you, you were apprehensive about adopting them. You were a teenager, barely fit to take care of yourself, much less keep two children alive. You were certain that kids were never in your cards either.

The night Tsumiki and Megumi found themselves nodding off as you were huddled up together on the couch watching some stupid TV show was when you were struck with a moment of realization.

You could never imagine laying a hand on them. The very thought made you feel sick. You wanted to protect them, cherish them, love them. Loving them felt like the most natural thing in the world.

How could your father not feel the same for you?

"I gave you everything!" He growls, veins bulging across the back of his hands.

"You breathed your first breath because of me! I gave you life!"

"Get out of my house," the words are strangled and garbled. His eyes darken as he takes steps towards you. Not like Satoru's that night. No. His eyes are dark like the walls of that hellish room. They only reflect you but not because he cares for you; because he wants to kill you.

There's a sharp whistling sound that comes from over his shoulder. The glass door behind you shatters as shards of red crystals fly towards you. His innate ability was to control broken shards of glass, changing their shapes and imbuing them with cursed energy. Blood flows from your cheek and torso. The wound from your mission with Kento spills open with fury. Cold wind rushes in as your hips bump into the railings of your balcony. He looks warbled in your vision, painted crimson.

"You're nothing without me! I made our clan rise from the ashes. I saved it from shame as I gave you that tyrant of a husband! I prevailed. I sacrificed everything for it! What do I get in return for giving you this auspicious life?"

You bring your hands up and yell as the shards intently aim for your scars, intent on ripping them open.

"Humiliation! They denied me entry to high society. Me! Denied of my destiny because of my weak-willed son!" The neighbors are rushing to their balconies and out onto the hallways. They yell if you're alright, trying to catch a peek of the scene by holding out their phones and aiming it at you. They yelp as his crystals fly into the air, clearly shocked at the unusual phenomenon.

This beast. He had 10 years to make himself worthy enough to stand between those of "high society."

Is it your fault that high society never — and would never — accept him in the first place?

He reaps what you sow. That's the kind of man he is. His pride comes before all, your mother once said to you.

She knew sacrifice. You knew sacrifice.

He knows nothing, yet he spouts his ideologies so loudly, so defiantly, it is as though it is gospel.

What a foolish man.

"Where is your respect!? Your gratitude!? I gave you life, I'll take it just as easily, boy."

He was close enough to reach out and grab you. When he did, he quickly regretted it. Fire engulfed his fist, the flame dark as ink as it roared. He yells in pain but you don't let him pull away. Instead, you bring your hands to wrap around his wrist and keep it there. His flesh smells rotten as the fire melts the skin away, charred almost. It sizzles on your skin, leaving its mark as more and more fat renders and pulsates. Bubbling like a foul soup.

Pull as he might, you keep him there, glaring with blood in your eyes.

The hand that holds his wrist lets go as he falls to his knees, summoning his weak ability again. They cut and slice furiously, emboldened by his pain, but yours was greater. With him on his knees, your hands thrust through the fire and grab his face.

It hurts. Your skin screeches in pain as the flames eat away. It feels insignificant. Before you, kneeling, was the beast that played the role of your father.

He feels as though your grip would completely crush his jaw.

The hand on yours is beginning to show bone. You feel nothing. His vomit slips down your hand, lumps of tears as well, and he looks so pathetic, so utterly inhuman. The grinding of your teeth makes your temples feel as though it's about to burst.

"Here it is! Do you feel it!? " his nerves burn to nothing, the crisping sound of his eyelashes distracting him from your voice. "I asked you a question, boy!" The flame lashes out, crawling to his elbows, and he strains out a scream.

"Here is my sacrifice!"

The fingers gripping his cheek warm and the fear in his eyes sends shivers up your spine.

There. In your eyes. That cursed candle. Its flames roar. The heat causes the windows to burst into a million pieces, sharp shards flying around. He tries to summon his ability, windows bursting as he forms a large spear. It flies to pierce through your back but your flame is too hot.

Your eyes are dark. He sees himself in them.

Had he always looked so weak?

His glass spear melts and bursts. The sound causes the building to shake and the screams that follow make your grin widen. Flecks of orange embers swirl around the both of you.

"Savour every drop of it, father."

It's always too sterile. The walls, ceilings, floors. He threatens to slip on the wooden floorboards with every step. Satoru watches the black car drive away, jaw clenched as it grows smaller and smaller into the distance.

The (L/N)'s clan manor lacked warmth. Despite the open courtyards and shoji doors, the meticulously cared for trees and shrubbery. It felt plastic. A show put on for the sake of being presentable.

The servant bows, telling him you are awake and he follows her.

The room is bright, facing the inner courtyard with a windchime swaying calmly from the threshold. You're sitting up on a futon, staring out at the small bamboo spout water feature.

Satoru can't believe his eyes. Every inch of skin below your face was covered in white bandages.

"Master (L/N), presenting Gojo Satoru."

The title brings a smile to your face.

He wasn't dead, your father, he was elsewhere. Getting his wounds treated by the best of the best but most importantly, far away from you. If Satoru thought you looked like a walking gauze, he hasn't laid eyes on your father yet. According to your stepmother, he was wrapped from head to toe, resembling a mummy from Egpyt.

It serves him right. The bastard.

You inclined your head and she bows, that same swirl pattern greets you goodbye. Master (L/N). Head of your clan. The position was temporary seeing as your father was still alive but the very title made him uneasy. Satoru settles near the wall, observing the sight before him.

The night of your 'scuffle' with your father had been the same night he fought that one-eyed curse. He had sensed a chill in his bones but with the opponent (and teaching opportunity) before him, he elected to brush it off.

"Satoru, did you see my stepmother on your way out?" He squeezes his biceps, shifting his knees as he adjusts his crossed legs. It wasn't his fault he was born with elegant legs, it felt uncomfortable to sit this way but to point his feet at you was a disrespect he wouldn't toe.

"Yeah. She seemed like she was in a rush, your brother and sisters have grown."

Of course, she would run. Make a scene of it to show her fear. To say she was displeased at the news of your fight with your father was the understatement of the century. She had wasted no time in calling for a trial, pointing a hysterical finger your way, and screaming that you did this to be called the head of the clan.

A quick mention of how your siblings lacked any resemblance to your father but an uncanny one with his trusted servant made her very tight-lipped.

"The higher-ups aren't pleased with the fiasco?" you inquire.

"What d'you think?" Satoru says dryly.

The entire population of the building had to have their phones wiped, memories too, and paid a huge sum in repairs due to your powers.

Apparently, people had thought there was a fire-breathing dragon that appeared in Tokyo.

Facing the garden, you pull the covers away. Crimson seeps through the white, like blood-tainting snow. Satoru is dressed in black pants and a white shirt, his bomber jacket was the same one you'd picked out for him some time ago.

This familiarity is not lost on him. The look in your eyes, that faraway gaze and twitching of your lips. When your mother had passed, you seemed lost but at this very moment it was as though the answer was right before you, that mishappen vision of your destiny a hair away from you.

Suguru had that same look.

"They whisper about you now," you giggle out as he takes his glasses, folding them in his lap. "They always do," he tries not to sound cocky but it's interwoven with every word.

"No. Satoru. They whisper about your curse," you wiggle your toes and stifle a grimace as the cut on your foot stings in protest. "Geto Suguru who killed his parents and (L/N) (Y/N) who nearly burned his father alive."

"They think you made us insane."

"I need reassurance." A laugh spills from your lips. He watches you curl your knees and place your elbows on them with your forehead braced on your knuckles as you give him your full attention. The sun glowed from behind you. The light does not reach your face.

"I'm not crazy, Satoru." His eyes meet yours and your smile slips away.

"I need reassurance that you won't go the same path Geto Suguru did."

"I don't resent non-sorcerers," you say curtly. "Don't play dumb." Satoru's neck is littered with traces of you. Akin to a collar. "Did the higher-ups ask you to execute me, Satoru? Do they wish to incite war on the (Y/N) clan?"

' My, you took to your role quickly, ' Satoru thinks.

"They worry that the new head of the (L/N) clan took his title with force."

"Not all of us were born with such legendary curse techniques. Is that a crime?"

Satoru's grip causes spiderwebs to appear on his glasses. "Do not be obtuse, (Y/N). You know what is implied. You've played this polite game of veiled threats and boasting for years. You know what they ask and you know what I ask."

"I don't." Shades of red bloom underneath your bandages. If Satoru concentrates enough, he could hear how the gauze seeps it and how your stitches strain as you straighten your back.

"Speak plainly."

"(Y/N)," your glare silences him.

"Speak plainly, Gojo Satoru."

Red-veined roots wrap around his throat. That precious willow tree was smoking, sparks of embers bursting from the center as it creaked and moaned. Its branches gnarled, its flowers leaving nothing but ashes.

"If the Grade 1 sorcerers weren't called to stop the fight, would you have killed him?"

The windchimes sing gently. Water gently flows from one end of the bamboo spout to the other. The birds chirp, the clouds move, and the world continues its song and dance.

Satoru's ears feel like someone has stuffed cotton in them. He makes sense of the words you speak by reading your lips, he hopes you're jesting so he looks into your eyes.

The windchimes still.

The shoji doors slide open and the same servant greets you.

"You have visitors, Master (L/N). A man named Nanami Kento and a woman named Shoko Ieiri. They've come with Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara as well."

"Please, send them in and escort Gojo Satoru to his car."

She stands, waiting for Satoru to do the same as his glasses threaten to shatter in his hand.

"Do not do this to me, my beloved."

"Have you ever loved me? Truly?"

His indignation fuels you with sick fascination. The corpse of Suguru grins, his cracked lips pressed to the junction of your neck as he praises you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"Then give me the same grace you gave our beloved Suguru. Leave me and cast your gaze aside. If you truly love me, husband. Grant me this final wish."

He whips his head to the side, reaching forward and grabbing the back of your head. It aches. Every shredded muscle and rattled bones, bruised organs and cut skin.

But he holds you against him. His lips taint yours.

Suguru chuckles coyly.

"Please." His forehead is pressed against yours, and you can feel it, that raised scar.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, don't do this."

"Satoru," Suguru whispers it along with you. His tears almost taste sweet as they slip down his cheeks and land on your lips. That ghost, the one that drapes itself on your back with his bony ribs and dirt-covered gojogesa, his smile graces your face as Satoru's heart dies once again.

"Fuck off."

"Is it strange?" Megumi quirks a brow at you from across the table. You set down a plate of cut-up fruits, stealing an apple for yourself before you sit.

"Finding out he's alive 2 months later."

The expression on his face makes you struggle to hold in your laughter. You've never said it out loud but Megumi looked like a prickly sea urchin every time he was pissed off and now he was pricklier than ever.

"I wanted to pummel Gojo to the ground. Yuji too." He stabs into an apple and the loud, angry, chewing makes you giggle. His brows pinch as you grimace but you tell him not to worry.

The dining room is unmistakably grand. Feeling far too empty. Megumi much preferred your old penthouse. This manor was far too big, far too pretentious. Which wasn't a slight on your clan, just their tastes in design.

"Did he really never tell you?" he narrows his eyes.

"We haven't talked much," you reply. Megumi finds that hard to believe. You were both teachers at Jujutsu High, so interactions were unavoidable. Everyone has seen you and Satoru side by side, talking to each other about this or that. No matter how short or icy the interaction was...it was still something.

Formalities were still shared, and Satoru's crass behavior softened just as his voice does when he talks to you.

There must be some lingering awkwardness, Megumi is not naive to think that there wouldn't be. But, it was clear that there was still some affection Satoru held for you. It was almost jarring to see how blatantly you ignored it when once upon a time, you’d been silently blushing at his efforts. Megumi wondered if the two of you had yelled at each other again. He hoped that was not the case. Your relationship was far from perfect but...it wasn't as though Gojo did not deserve your bitterness.

"Is it because you're seeing Mr Nanami?" Sweetness slips down the fork and you hand him a tissue. “Is this like those shitty TV shows?”

The idea of this being a revenge arc against your ex-husband was humorous. Kento was far from the plotting type. He may be annoyed by Satoru but he wasn’t a man who would intertwine his hands with another for the sake of hurting someone.

“Haha,” you said dryly. “Finish up your homework, I’ll drive you back to school.”

Megumi doesn’t pout. At least he think he doesn’t.

He does.

He pouts as you walk out from the room.

Megumi continues to pout even in the car ride back to the dorms. You’re watching from the corner of your eyes, lips curled in endearment.

“Do you like Mr Nanami?” He blinks at the question, turning his head to look at you. Megumi crosses his arms, pout dissipating into a thin line.

“I don’t know him, but from what Yuji tells me, he is a very reliable man.”

“He is,” you continue to gaze out the window, ignoring the itchiness of the healing wounds. The only solace in this pain is that your father’s was greater. Still comatose, skin still peeling as the heat lingers in his bones.

Saying this out loud would make the crows that follow your every movement very rich though.

“In some ways, he reminds me of you. Both of you have a stoic expression, so mature-looking. Mr Nanamin is 27, so it suits him. But you, my beautiful son, — “

Megumi grunts as you poke his forehead.

“ — you are only 15. Stop frowning!” He yells in protest as you stretch his cheeks, frowns only deepening as he tries to escape your grasp.

Yuji waits in the hallways. Megumi and you pause in your steps and Yuji’s eyes widen as he opens his mouth.

“Mr (Y/N)!”

Mirth swims in your eyes. “Itadori, did you need something?” He scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks blush. How cute. Young love was such a sight to behold.

“Isn’t it?” Suguru sighs. “In the same halls, we used to walk through too, (Y/N).”

“No! Ah, just, I heard footsteps so I thought I could hang out with Fushiguro for a little.” You push Megumi not to subtly towards his room/Yuji.

“He’s all yours,” your cooing tints Megumi’s ears pink. He mumbles he wants to wash up first and Yuji just seems excited he didn’t turn down his offer. “Don’t stay up too late, Itadori. Classes are bright and early tomorrow,” he salutes you and the bright smile he has is so contagious you grin as well.

The eye on his cheek split open to take a glimpse.

As you turn, it slips close.

Kento waits for you at the house. He smells like petrichor and as you get closer there’s the distinctly sharp taste of lightning-struck earth. You burrow your face in the crisp white shirt he wears, and he smiles. You can tell even without looking. He always huffs in amusement before he smiles.

“Did you have a good day?” You shrug your shoulders and he slips his hands around you. Those strong arms squeeze you, molding you to his frame. “Did you?” He makes a noise, something between a hum and a grunt and you peek up at him.

Kento visited you frequently during your recovery. He sent you to school during your first days back, then he sent your favourite foods during your lunch and they turned into flowers.

His shy courting was anything but. Kento pursued you with a hunter's grace but a priest's devotion.

Could anyone blame you for accepting his attempts? He made your heart flutter, swoon and race. For the first time in your life, someone was sending you flowers in hopes of you paying attention to them. Kento fed you while you healed and the same day you find out that his eyes do soften when he kissed.

People whisper about how quickly you brought Kento home. Infidelity, they say. Hah! What a load of bullshit. A servant must’ve opened her mouth, one whose loyalties still laid with your stepmother.

How unlucky was it that her home had been burnt down the very day she was fired?

You wrote her your condolences. She begged for your forgiveness.

Kento doesn’t know this. You’re determined for it to remain that way.

“Today was nothing special. Tonight is a different story,” your brows raise at his flustered gaze. “I made reservations for us.”

There it goes again, your heart swoons. Kento tilts his head into your palm and you wonder what your life would have been like if you had noticed his gaze back then.

After that kiss, after knowing that he returned your feelings and only spoke of his interest in a baker because of your marriage, he confessed how he’d been smitten with you the longer that school year passed.

“You were training hand-to-hand with Geto,” he whispers to you, as if shy to confess this. You’re sat with the covers a mess at your legs and the food on the tray forgotten. He’s flustered? He kissed you silly mere seconds ago while you were wrapped up with bandages. The scent of healing ointments practically radiated from you. He was so put together and you’d been going through your clan's financial statements since 3 am.

Kento remembers it like it was yesterday. The way you lifted yourself up into the air, your leg was a blur as you spun. Tendrils of your hair caught the gleam of the sun and it glowed like vinyl. The ringing laughter that followed as Suguru dodged made his heart squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be working on your close combat skills, Su-Su!”

“Quit aiming for my head, (nickname)!” Suguru dashes towards you and you yelp as he catches your middle but the shock wears off. Suguru grunts when you press your palms down on his shoulders and dig your heels into the ground before kicking off, pushing Suguru down.

“Go, (nickname)!” Yū cheers beside Kento. He rolls on top of you, smiling victoriously until your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

“Oi, S’guru! I bet money on you!” Satoru waved his fist around while Shoko curled her fingers expectantly his way.

Kento can’t believe you’re real. Your smile is so wide he can see your gums, the sweat that beads down your skin makes you glimmer like a gem and despite the dirt on your skin Kento can’t fathom it to be a smudge or mistake.

Because everything about you seemed deliberately made. The blood and flesh of those before you must have loved each other so greatly to bless you with such a face. He wonders if, in the future, they’ll find traces of him in your bloodline.

Fire in the wind. Wild and free and untameable.

“You win, you win!” Suguru goes limp and you giggle. Rolling off of him, you lay down on the grass as he spreads his arms out like a starfish. You cushion your head on it and spot the bruise on his neck that peaks out from his unzipped jacket.

“Su-Su, you’re not holding back, are you?” you turn your gaze to the sky. He’d be a Special-grade sorcerer with no problem. His ability was insanely useful, and flexible - a trump deck of a technique. If he exceeded in close combat, that grade would be his with no ifs or buts.

The strongest.

Suguru blinks once, and twice, then offers a warm smile.

“Give yourself more credit, (nickname). You totally beat my ass.”

“You‘re amazing,” Kento tells you as the memory fades away. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was content with watching from the sidelines,” your finger presses to his lips and Kento’s eyes widen. It slides across his bottom lip before it travels below his jaw and ear and you’re leaning in.

“A reservation?” Your eyes twinkle. It would explain why he was dressed so nicely. It must not be the fanciest place since he wasn’t dressed in a suit and tie but the watch he wears hints at luxury nonetheless.

“Go, get ready,” he tells you in that gentle tone that makes his voice go so deep. Everything about Kento’s actions felt so intimate. You would think he’d be reserved, wanting to go slow as to be proper. In your world, death is a guillotine blade that’s dug into your neck over and over again.

Kento can be courteous but to assume he would go slow was not likely. He knows you, (Y/N). From those times in high school to the fleeting glances of you during meetings and the mission you went on; he sees you.

Perhaps it’s just the way sorcerers will always love each other.

The way Suguru loved Satoru. The way Megumi loves Yuuji. The way you loved Satoru. The way Satoru loves you.

None of you were made for casual affection. Everything and everyone that falls for wicked beings like you find themselves with deep marks embedded in their shoulders, arms, and neck; desperate hounds begging for their man to not leave them but unable to pull their teeth out.

So Kento grips you and kisses you with a heavy weight of relief and you return it.

The Gods have taken too much from you. Kento will not be one of those things they rip away from your fingers - no, not him.

“‘Atta boy,” Suguru’s decaying arms circle your waist as you walk the halls of the house. When you shed your clothes to clean yourself, Suguru sits on the edge of the bathtub. The humidity makes him look paler and his eyes more bloodshot.

“You deserve someone like him. A good man to fill that cavernous void. Kento’s always been hiding his flustered face every time you walk past him,” Suguru moves his hands around as he talks. You don’t remember him being so chatty but as of late, this apparition keeps the voices in your head quiet. He makes sure you’re not alone.

Your father must’ve knocked your head hard enough for some screws to come loose but you find it hard to care.

“Cavernous?” you mumble. Suguru pauses then leans back a bit. His hair swaying as he does so.

“Do you think it’s enough? Being loved after everything you’ve been through, is that enough for you?”

“...Was it enough for you? In your final moments, was it enough?”

What would this Suguru know about his final moments? He wasn’t real, he never had been. He’s just a manifestation of your hurt, a coping mechanism your brain conjured for some hellish reason.

“I died by Satoru’s hand and then, died in his embrace. What could be more poetic than that?”

You died in Satoru’s arms too. That night he took you as his husband. The weeping, the love confessions, the moaning. Your heart was racing in your chest as he thrust into you, his face nearly scarlet as he kissed you.

The heat that pools between your legs makes Suguru guffaw.

He dips his hand in and traces your thighs.

“Kento’s hands are rougher than ‘Toru’s. Fingers thick and finger pads sanded with hard work. Everything you taught him as his upperclassman he still uses today.”

Shuddering, you slip your knees apart. Suguru takes a hold of your cock.

“You’ve always had the best legs, ya’ know. So strong, even your punches hurt like hell."

You lean back, eyes lidded with pleasure as Suguru pumps his fist. The water spills over the side as he slips in with you, his hair acting like curtains as he peers down at you. His slanted eyes and those onyx eyes make you feel powerless against his desires.

"He'd be so sincere with you. Every thrust," a gasp makes him chuckle darkly. "Every stroke," you moan and grip the sleeves of his robe. "Every kiss," his lips trace the bridge of your nose.

"S'guru..."

"A testament to his adoration for you. He'd worship you, (nickname). But will that be enough? His skin on yours? Is his heart in your hands instead of the other way around exciting? Will that finally fill this void?"

Your spine arches and your knees bump into the edge of the bathtub. Suguru's breath feels like a hurricane as he kisses the side of your jaw, his fist damn near merciless.

"Will you accept his sacrifice, (nickname)?"

When you come, you squeeze your eyes shut. The floor is slick with water and steam makes everything fuzzier than it needs to be. As you lift your hand from beneath the water, you grimace at the sight.

How shameful.

You settle the bath by yourself, the servants didn't need to see more than they've already heard.

Kento is waiting by his car when you step out. He drinks in the sight of you, unable to stop himself from kissing you as you come close. As usual, he opens the door for you, and you stroke the cream-coloured leather seats of his Mercedes Benz.

"Ready, (Y/N)?" He reaches over to hold your hand and you bring it to your lips before he can. He can feel the softness of your lips, the slight gloss that sticks to his skin that makes his crotch tighter than his pants liked.

"Ready, Mr Nanami." Kento chuckles, squeezing your shameful hand and bringing it to his lips next.

Suguru sits in the backseat, his dark eyes keeping themselves glued on you. You see him in reflections, in puddles, in every monotone face that walks past.

As Kento settles you on his lap, his thick cock making you feel stars and heaven itself, Suguru is still watching.

"Ken, I - "

Kento sinks his teeth into your neck and you groan. His hands are big and rough, just like Suguru said they'd be. They grope and squeeze and bruise. He grabs a handful of each cheek and your thighs are thankful for it. Kento lifts you so effortlessly it makes your desire feel unquenchable.

His strength doesn't surprise you. The gym in his apartment complex was one he frequented. If he didn't want to mingle, he had a dedicated room for working out in his home. You've seen the weights he has, how interesting was it that they were the same weight as you, (Y/N).

"(Y/N), does that feel good?" You squeeze the tip of his cockhead in reply and sink down on him to cement it. His cock keeps kissing your prostate, the drag of his dick makes you want to be keen and whine.

His hair looked good when it was dishevelled, which makes his jaw sharper and his nose makes you want to grind on it. Kento shifts and moves to lay you down on his pillows. Your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

The aching muscles hiss in protest but the lust that flows through you overcomes it.

"(Y/N)..."

Kento tries to sit up but your hands on his chest keep him down.

"(Y/N)".

"Kento."

Suguru traces his jaw and it's no surprise Kento does not react. He grips at your waist, whispering your name again. You pin his arms next to his head and Kento's eyes widen.

There it is. That darkness that takes over that molten brown. It only reflects you. Suguru is peering over your shoulder, his hands circling your neck as his dark tongue licks your cheek.

"You want what I want, Ken," you murmur against his lips. "To come undone by each other's hands, to devour each other, to be one."

"Yes," he breathes out. "Then let me feel you like this," you brought his hands to your waist once again, and he planted his heels into his mattress.

"I want to see you unravel under me, Kento. I want to see you, all of you, just as you do."

He nods and you grant him a kiss, allowing your tongues to dance.

"Do you intend to keep following me forever?"

Kento's balcony is unexpectedly warm. You can smell the breakfast he's making as you nurse your cup of tea. For your throat, he tells you.

How pervertedly kind.

The crow tilts its head and you narrow your eyes at it. "They must've paid a heavy sum. Or was it my stepmother?" It flaps its wings, preening the under feathers. Lifting your hand, you press your pointer and middle finger together. It squawks, hopping as it flaps its wings again.

"I'll pay you more to leave me alone. My ex-husband has left a hefty fortune for me. If this persists, I won't hesitate to wipe the floor with you, Mei-Mei."

The crow squawks again but turns its head to leave.

A crisping feather floats gently down onto the floor of the balcony. By the time Kento walks over to place the tray of food down on the table, it turns to nothing but ash in the wind.

"You spoil me," your legs are over his lap and he brings those hands to massage them. "You spoiled me," he answers. "Just showing my appreciation."

A group of crows flies past but Kento is cutting up your food and moving to feed you. Your cheeks burn, you open your mouth and Kento's gentle grin makes your heart race.

"I don't recall him having a temper, are the rumours true?"

Mei-Mei had better things to do. Her time was worth more than stalking someone's ex-lover. However, the head of the Gojo clan was a generous man. How could she refuse?

"Do you truly make them go insane?" He can hear her smile from over the phone. "He attacked you?" Satoru rolls his ring over his knuckles and between his fingers. The classroom was empty as the students trained on the field.

"He's committed arson against a servant who was trading secrets with Lady (L/N) and now he's burned a crow into nothing but dust. He even offered to pay more than you have. What a lucky man he is to have divorced from an endless fountain of wealth."

"Yeah? Maybe you should try that instead of chasing after green."

"Careful, Gojo. I still have my pride."

He places the ring on his palm, curling his fingers over it.

"Kento and him make a handsome couple. I almost feel jealous." Satoru would be stupid to believe Mei-Mei trusted that this stalking was him feeling possessive. She wasn't an idiot. He was concerned about you. Your grandiose act of nearly burning your father alive was the talk of the town.

The evidence of it being self-defense was backed up by the cameras in your home (the ones that hadn't melted anyway).

But it was too convenient.

Satoru is a man who is filled with memories. As careless and crass as he portrays himself as, he's sentimental. He slips a hand into his pocket and your ring is accompanied by Suguru's button.

The cameras were damaged enough to make it out as if it was just saved by fate. But Satoru knows your flames better than most. It burns everything. Devours with a hunger that no beast could compete with. It's indiscriminate. Which is why your aim is immaculate.

If it hadn't melted, you wouldn't be as free as you are now. Even in your rage and fear, you were careful to ensure your longevity.

"I'm sure you do."

"The divorce barely made a dent?"

"You already know the answer to that. Make sure he doesn't suspect me, I'll pay double."

"And if he faces me?"

Satoru grits his teeth together.

"Run."

Kiyotaka waits for him at the front of the school, that usual sour-puckered face and obscene politeness manages to elicit a grin from Satoru. The drive to the house on the hill is filled with silence, which is for the best seeing as how tightly wound he was.

Kiyotaka knew divorce could put people on edge but seeing Satoru’s fists tremble on his lap, knuckles nearly turning bone white and all, terrified him.

The gates are opened after Satoru rolls down his windows. He should ask why they were here but his instincts knew better.

“I’ll be out in an hour or so. You don’t mind waiting, do ya’?”

“Of course not, Mr Gojo.”

He smiles, giving Kiyotaka a firm squeeze on his shoulder before walking inside the modern home. Its grey colours looked atrocious against the vibrant greens of nature. Ah, Satoru was glad you had better tastes compared to the rest of your family.

Your stepmother waits for him in the living room. The carpet before her is littered with toys of all sorts. The youngest of the family takes a liking to smash some toy cars together while the others were most likely tended to by their governess.

“Mr Gojo,” she stands with a certain air of grace that prickles his skin. He nods politely her way.

"Is he doing better today?" The machines that they've hooked him to made him resemble a sick science experiment. Perhaps it's poetic justice from his late wife. The curtains were drawn and the only light was dim to ensure his skin wasn't exposed to any more unnecessary heat. There were talisman papers pasted on the walls and ceilings which Satoru thinks is entirely too much.

"Have you..."

The exposed split of bandages reveals nothing more than charred flesh and peeling skin. A hint of bone and muscle too that help him speak. Satoru ignores the hazmat suits, stepping through the heavy plastic curtains. His infinity wouldn't bring any harmful germs into this room, never had so far too.

"Leave." His wife commands in that shrill voice.

The doctors and attendants bow deeply and the door closes behind her. She sits close to the wall, outside the curtain.

"Have I?" There's writing on the bandages. Sutras are written in some sort of special ink that emits curse energy.

"killed (Y/N)." He sighs, crossing his arms as he spreads his legs.

"My son-in-law — " It might be cruel to tune out the words of a man who's half-dead, but Satoru cannot believe he's spouting this again. A part of him wished you had burnt through his throat. Satoru sighs loudly, tossing his head back and scrunching his face.

"Old man, the divorce papers have been signed. I haven't been your son-in-law in a whole month."

Between this and your increasingly violent tendencies that Mei-Mei keeps reporting back, those curses spirits working together popping up, Itadori Yuji's attempted assassination (and the mysterious way he rose from the dead...) — Satoru was in no mood.

He does not agree with your decision to commit attempted murder. But make no mistake, he fully believed the bastard deserved it.

"You keep telling me to kill him. I shouldn't have to say this, but you do know in the decade Geto Suguru was gallivanting around, I did nothing because he was dear to me. (Y/N) is dear to me. I'll wait 50 fucking decades before I lay a hand on him."

"You dare curse at my lord husband?" Satoru glances at her from over his shoulder. That distorted reflection makes her look more attractive than she actually is. "Lord of what? Gauze and morphine? If we're doing a dick-measuring contest, I win. Sit down. Your voice is annoying."

She sputters, mouth opening again. So Satoru tilts his head, flexing his fingers as he clicks his tongue.

"Woman." The ' lord ' croaks out. She watches him raise a hand, shaky fingers flicking outwards and Satoru swears steam nearly shoots out from her ears. The door has a soft-close feature which makes her attempt at slamming it void but it brings a smile to Satoru's face.

"The rumours, of my clan."

Now that was far more interesting for Satoru. His silence is a prompt for the man to continue. A sharp intake of breath comes in quick twos and threes as his bandaged hands squeeze the trigger for the drip of morphine.

Then his shoulders sink into the mattress and he speaks.

"The Binding Vow we've broken. The karma we faced since then...I think, I fear, I..."

Satoru feels his ring heat up against his sternum, so he leans forward and it's cradled by the button of his shirt.

"I fear he's paid the price, wholly, his self-righteous pain...he's balanced the scales..."

"I messed up."

The chattering of the skulls at least fills silence. Satoru can see why it'll quickly become a nuisance that will make his ears shrivel in disdain but for now, he finds it better than nothing. Whatever it is underneath him pokes him and shifts against his clothes.

Slipping a digit under the rim of his blindfold, Satoru tugs on it and exhales through his nose.

"Things are not looking good."

"Yo, Satoru."

The weight of the blindfold rests over his eyelids and Satoru sinks into the mass below him.

"I'd kill him a thousand times if I could, Satoru."

' Would you really, my beloved? ' Satoru's lips twitch into a grin. No, you wouldn't. Maybe in the moment, that night fuelled by fear and anger. The morning after when your pain still pulsed under ripped-open skin; but he knew you, his beloved, his darling friend; his (Y/N). Your father was nothing but a frail man who knew nothing of what he spoke of.

You'd be safe, protected, and cared for regardless of who you lay with or whose heart you hold. Kento be damned. You were his first and his always. Suguru's corpse was a jarring sight. A painful one too. He'd bury him properly, his love for him will join him in that new grave. His love for you will haunt him for as long as you walk this earth.

He unbuttons his outerwear, tugging on the silver chain until he unclasps it. The blue gem twinkles sweetly his way and he slips it on his finger where his skin all but sighs in comfort.

"Well, there'll always be a way. I'm counting on you, everyone." "Sealed...?"

Kento moves forward and you stare at his frame as he does. Megumi's head swivels to follow him and Ino's as well, they walk in step with him but you stand there in shock.

"Move," Suguru whispers to you. The joints of his fingers dig into your back as his hair curtains your peripheral field of vision. "(Y/N). Move."

"(Y/N)?" Ino's voice causes the group to pause. Their eyes are expectant. Megumi wonders why he cannot pinpoint the flickering emotions on your face while Kento's gaze takes note of your trembling hands.

"NA-NA-MIN!"

His touch shocks cause your pupils to jitter into focus. Kento says nothing, simply squeezing your forearm as he whispers your name.

"If they sealed him, our top priority will be undoing that."

"You know this, (nickname)," Suguru bites, the click of his teeth sending shivers down your spine. "(Y/N) — " You move past Kento, curling your fingers into fists and feeling Suguru thread him through yours.

"Let's be quick about it then."

This feeling...

"It's like that day," Suguru croaks, "the day he died. Your heart is beating so fast. Do you still ____ him, (Y/N)? Do you truly?"

"Why is he off limits?" Geto does that serene smile that makes Jogo simmer in annoyance. "Jogo, you can't kill everyone you see in battle. There's some grace in keeping a certain few alive."

"Will he be used as a hostage to make Gojo Satoru fall in despair?" his words humour Geto, truly amuses him. Mahito lifts his head from the ground, leaning on the heels of his hand as he peers at the two of them.

"Man, Jogo. You really are wicked," Geto peers at the shimmering scales of the curses that lurk within the waters.

"He's not for Gojo Satoru's imprisonment."

"Don't keep us in the dark, Geto," Mahito voices out Jogo's thoughts, his mismatched eyes impatient.

"Gojo (Y/N) is for..."

You yell as the eel tightens its body around you, digging your heels into the sand as Dagon summons it to themselves. The force of it makes your back bow and no amount of strength could stop it. Dagon holds the back of your skull and you hear Megumi yell out for you.

"(Y/N)!" Kento takes several steps forward and Maki grits her teeth.

Naobito focuses his gaze on their escape, knowing that they would be able to help the poor fool if they were outside of the domain.

But then.

"That man — " Dagon pulls you to its chest and your eyes widen as Fushiguro Toji appears before you. His eyes, it must be some sort of sorcery cast, a trick, a body double. Your fear recognizes you. He shifts his gaze to meet yours and there's a smirk on his face.

"Still alive, are you, freak?" The cursed weapon in his hand rattles in the air and then straightens. He aims it right at you and you brace yourself for the pain.

Dagon blocks it at the cost of its hand.

' It's protecting me!? ' You grunt at the blood that sprays onto your face and into your mouth, coughing as Dagon tries to fight Toji.

"Hah? Did you leave your husband for this thing?" The eel that held you disappeared into nothing after the barrage of hits he had laid out. Dagon tries to grab you but you engulf your fists into flames and spin to punch its face. Dagon does not let you escape but Toji is running toward you again so you plant your heel into its head, kicking off from its chest to fall right into the waters.

Kento catches you in his arms, and the tension of the surface breaks with monstrous sea beasts that try to land a hit on Toji. With his arms occupied, he relies on you to deter them as he makes his way back to Megumi's simple domain.

Megumi —

You stare at him as he asks you if you're alright.

Megumi, you should tell him who this man was. You should —

Dagon is exorcised.

The ground beneath you disappears. It takes a second too long for you to catch your bearings. Brain rattled and breathe knocked out of you as peel yourself off the ground. Kento, Maki, Naobito —

"Megumi!?" Kento helps you up and you take a step forward to follow the sounds of destruction but the air grows thick.

Satoru was never an artist. The horrendous rendition of the curses that attacked him the same night your father had looked as though it'd been drawn by kindergartners. But it was unmistakably him.

The disaster curse. Bald and one-eyed.

His fire makes the water on your skin steam into the air. He removes Naobito, and you move to protect Maki by getting between them. Barely in time, she still crumples to the floor but she would live if taken to Shoko quick enough. His eye widens as you stand unscathed, your clothes flaking off like snow as your skin reddens and steams.

"Gojo (Y/N)."

"Divine Flame."

He lifts his hand just as you do.

"Do not let him use his curse technique, Jogo. He's not as strong as Satoru, but you'll thank me," Geto's voice coos.

"God's Bl — "

"Kuantan?" he sets down the rest of the breakfast he made. His home is as neat and crisp as he is — though there are still traces of himself. His hopes especially. The mountain of books, the pamphlets about Malaysia here and there. If you peered into his room, Kento had even laid out a few notes of plans he hoped to fulfill. It was as if he was waiting for the perfect moment, lying in wait.

"The beaches are nice. The food as well," he sits across from you and pauses as you pat the spot next to you. Endeared, Kento settles where you ask. "Perhaps after Megumi graduates to a second year," he stays silent for a moment and watches you eat.

"...Would you resent me for not marrying you until I retire?"

You pause mid-chew, blinking at him for a moment. Then you turn your gaze on the plate, eyes trailing after the dew drop of water on the lettuce.

"I won't if you do not regret marrying someone from a sorcerer clan."

He pinches the lobe of your ear gently, tracing the shell with so much fondness he chuckles as it warms under his touch. It was damn near perverted how he did it — your heart races as he turns your face his way.

"I could never regret being yours, (Y/N)."

That memory burst into flames. His house, his books, his hopes, and his dreams. Jogo stands there in the ashes and he smiles at you with those blackened teeth.

"(nickname)," Suguru whispers. Your trembling hands stiffen as he strokes the insides of your wrists, his empty gaze reflecting you as he stands in front of you. "Balance the scales."

"Gojo (Y/N)!" Jogo exclaims proudly. "Y — !"

Jogo barely had time to react to your kick. Bursting through windows and walls. He digs his fingers into the floor and just as he lifts his head he sees your shadowed face. Your pupils were nothing but a speck of (E/C) on white as smoke slithers between your lips.

"Divine Flame — "

A spear pierces through your stomach. Jogo covers his eye just in time before your blood splatters on it. Breathing through your nose, you grasp at the crimson-soaked spear, eyes widening as you take in the details of it.

"Impossible," you turn to look and it's there. Satoru had let you name it this time, among the Fredericks and other silly names he dubbed Suguru's curses as this one was the one you named.

"Togatta?" It does not give any sign of recognition but there was no mistake.

Jogo's fist makes contact with your chest and you choke, coughing up spit and blood before he lands a final blow on the back of your neck.

The puddle of blood grows next to him. Those stupid girls, demanding things of Ryomen Sukuna, threatened to fight him with no plan nor strength. Humans were really something else.

Jogo waits for Ryomen to ask and then and only then he tells him he didn't want anything but Ryomen's freedom. Sukuna's crimson eyes take interest in the cursed object Jogo has slung around his neck; a dark shard of glass that pulses a steadily beating blue within it.

"Ten fingers and what's mine?" He looked beyond pleased.

"You've outdone yourselves." Jogo gulps, unbinding the rope around his neck and using both hands to present it to Sukuna. He takes it after a particularly gentle stroke of the sharp edges, then places it in his pockets.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" Geto nods assuredly. The rolling waves melting into the sand give leeway for Jogo and Mahito to process his words. What could Ryomen Sukuna find useful in Gojo (Y/N)? He was a Grade 1 sorcerer but he was not like his husband.

"His family line, the (L/N) clan, is a disgraced one. All the men are weak, all the women dimwitted and the children cursed. Sorcerer society looks at them in disdain, calling them desperate and thieving. It was the child from the (L/N) clan that made it possible for Ryomen Sukuna to be sealed. A son with a curse technique so strong and a face so beautiful, Ryomen Sukuna took him as his property. He had forced the boy into a Binding Vow — one the boy broke to defeat Ryomen Sukuna."

"It left the clan with nothing but shame. The Gods inflict karma on generations to come even if the Vow was wicked beyond belief. Sorcerer society rejected them and curled their noses at the clan that saved them from extinction. I still remember that boy's face."

Geto chuckles, leaning back in his seat as he closes his eyes.

"Mahito, do you think a soul ever comes back in a new body?"

Reincarnation or divine coincidence.

Jogo does not ponder on the question. All he knows is that giving Sukuna an ancestor of the boy whom he favoured, whom he made into a treasured concubine, pleased him.

"This is your reward for the fingers. Come at me. If you manage to land even a single blow on me, I'll work under you all."

Megumi is still leaning against the shutter doors. The shinigami he released, it's a beast that Sukuna had never had the pleasure of seeing before he was locked away. Placing his hand over Megumi's chest, he heals the wounds to ensure Megumi is no longer on the precipice of death and darts his eyes toward the rope that sticks out from his pockets.

He slips the shard into Megumi's hand, recalling how fond you were of the boy. How perfect. This world — this era, truly was made for him. Everything would be his. Men, women, and children — all for him to devour indiscriminately.

With Uraume and (Y/N) with him, this age of haughty sorcerers with abilities he'd never seen, ah. His mouth waters from the very thought. Once he obtains Fushiguro Megumi's body. Once you submit to him. Once he kills Gojo Satoru. Once he destroys Itadori Yuji into nothing.

"Na..."

The sight before him, it made his stomach twist into knots again and again and again...

Kento sees himself in Yū's eyes, he points to Yuji and Kento can't bring himself to say anything to the boy.

"Nanamin..."

The nickname makes his heart squeeze in relief. That youth that he wants to protect, is still there in his final moments and that alone would have made Kento die without regrets — but he's lying to himself.

He made a promise to you to return to your side. You did not ask him to say "alive" because just having a body to bury is a miracle in your world. (Y/N), he saw that stubborn strife in your eyes even as you nodded.

Too little time spent with you. Those 2 months of pure love with you, it would never be enough but he cherishes them all the same. He hopes you can tolerate this pain — he never wished for you to go through this before him, (Y/N).

He should have introduced you to his family.

He should have kissed you deeply before tonight began.

He should have given you everything you deserved.

Ah, regret truly is the worst feeling in the world.

He wants to take care of you like he promised to, (Y/N).

What could he say to Yuji to make him understand what this means?

Mahito's curse energy was enveloping his soul and Kento used the bit of strength he had left to ensure Yuji would not be the one to kill his transfigured corpse. The least he could do, this cruel kindness... "I'll leave the rest to you."

"My husband."

Shoko pauses. Satoru is not looking her way, instead, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression.

"He did not greet me," she's glad that he does not see the way she clenches the box of cigarettes in her pocket. Or maybe he does because he straightens his composure and asks;

"Is he still pissed at me or is he dead?"

"....We don't know, Satoru." His nose curls in distaste. Still, he waits for her to continue.

"Nobody has seen him and there's no time nor resources to sift through the rubble of Shibuya to find him. The last person to have seen him alive was Maki, she says that he was against the onne-eyed disaster curse."

"He'd have no trouble exorcising that baldy." Satoru is being too kind, you would struggle but you'd still win. He was sure of it. Then again, your abilities were too similar — a tie maybe? You had more wit, you'd win.

Or is that denial talking?

"Nanami died by Mahito's hand," Shoko pulls the box out and tosses it aside as he takes out the final cigarette. "Does he know that?"

"Maybe he's already with Nanami."

"Shoko."

"All of you are dropping like flies around me. Was there an invite I was never given?" She doesn't cry but Satoru stands to walk towards her anyway.

"Yū, Suguru, Kento, (Y/N)," she allows him to hold her shoulder and pull her in but does not return the affection. Should she? Would this be the final memory of Gojo Satoru she had?

"He isn't dead." Satoru pulls away after a long minute. The smile on his face makes her hopes soar and Shoko doesn't understand why she can't force it down.

"I can feel it. He's still here. Don't host a funeral just yet, yeah?"

"You're way too cocky, do you know that?"

"I have every right to be."

"Mr Gojo." Satoru wonders what Yuji would say to him. He wonders where the scars come from, when his eyes had ever been so dull or hardened, he wonders if Yuji will bounce back from everything; if he'll regret being so selfless in the first place.

"Itadori," he braces his arm on his hips, and Yuji's shoulder droops.

"Mr (Y/N), Nanamin...he said he'd leave it to me. You told Ms Ieiri that you had a feeling he was alive."

"Eavesdropping, Itadori?" Yuji's laughs as Satoru slings an arm around his shoulder, attempting to escape his hand that is ruffling his hair.

"Aah, Mr Gojo, quit it!" Satoru settles with a few more chuckles so Yuji continues. "When everything settles, could you help me fulfill Nanamin's wish?"

"Yuji."

Satoru smiles brightly, squeezing Yuji close as he ruffles the back of his head.

"You leave (Y/N) to me."

"Does this form please you more?"

Your eyes can't take themselves off the sight before you. Satoru — no, his corpse. What a strange string of words.

Satoru's corpse.

It's too unreal. Those words do not belong to one another. He grasps the back of your head and forces it to face him. You can't decide what is worse; when you wake to Megumi's face twisted in a cruel expression, finding out Tsumiki was being used as a vessel, being shown Kento's death on replay through Sukuna's/Yuji's memory of the moment, or this monstrous being before you with Satoru's corpse behind you.

"My, my, my, don't tempt me," Sukuna does not let you squirm. His four hands held you firmly within his grasp as you wept.

"I truly am delighted your bloodline prevailed. The betrayal should be punished with death but, seeing you again, I'll not make the same mistake twice."

The binding vow that was made with your ancestor, one that made Sukuna keep the flame technique within his grasp and your ancestor in the other. Breaking it left your bloodline with a technique meant to be used only after mastering the innate technique — to put it simply, it was akin to making someone tame a pack of rabid wolves before they even potty-trained a puppy. It was no wonder you were all so weak.

"Keeping such a trump card of a technique hidden from me, how shrewd."

Yuji cannot believe it. Everything was moving too fast. Gojo Satoru was dead, and the era of sorcerers was coming to an end as reality settled in the bones of curses and sorcerers alike. But then, you're there.

Apparated out of thin air — no. The necklace around Sukuna's neck. You were kept there, did you spectate everything? The entire fight? Every person Sukuna had killed —

They had tried their best to look for you and you'd just been there, hidden in plain fucking sight.

Suguru is in your peripheral, you blink and you swear you feel your mind break as he loops his arms around Satoru's corpse. Another blink and Kento and Yū appear, pale and rotten and burnt and dead.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" His eyes are filled with nothing but amusement as you will yourself out of his grasp, your foot making contact with his face as you kick yourself off from it.

The rubble stings your bare feet as you dig your heels into the ground, your dark flames eating away at the sleeves of the silken garments his loyal servant, Uruame, had dressed you in. Feeling its weight disappear fuels you with more ire than you ever thought you'd ever feel.

This man, this monster, had taken everything from you. Even if it kills you, even if you end up burning the entire world into ash and cinder — nothing matters anymore.

Your mother, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi —

Heaven and Hell will rue the day they took them. The Gods have created a new monster in the form of you and Yuji shudders at the empty look in your eyes.

What had you gone through in the months you were gone? The garments you wore were that of highly respected concubines, heavy and silken and patterned.

What had Sukuna done to you? Had he taken the very essence of your soul and ripped it to pieces just like he had done with him?

Kento's words echo in his mind, and Satoru's face appears with a blink. He needed to step in and save you — from yourself and from Sukuna's grasp. His two mentors, he can't let them down, he can't. You were precious to Megumi, to Tsumiki from what Megumi had once told him. Satoru looks at you with such a warm aura, that Kento always threatens to smile when he even mentions you.

Desperation pumps through Yuji's body and he feels his nails elongate, giving it a quick glance before spotting Kashimo descending from the sky.

Sukuna's laughter booms throughout the empty planes and echoes around the destroyed buildings. The very earth shakes with each inhale.

"You truly haven't changed, my concubine! Come! Let's go insane together!"

[jinnie-ret]

cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

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•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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