#i know i say it's x reader but let's be real. it leans more on the self-insert side. i just like writing in second person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moody-alcoholic · 2 days ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 21 - Sorry Go 'Round

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 10k words. OK so what now? Surly there are no more surprises right?

CW: +18 content MDNI. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, PiV sex, nightmares, alcohol, mental health, mentions of miscarriage, angst.

AN: It feels good to be back.

Previous - masterlist - next

AO3

enjoy <3

She’s alive. It almost doesn’t feel real.

She stood there though, in the garden, and she was real. Your hand goes to your braid running it through your fingers. You moved on. You had let her go but now she’s here. You should be happy but instead there's nothing. Just guilt, and anger. You're angry at yourself for the way you acted, guilty that you punished John for so long. There’s a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” John says.

“Go away!” You shout. He doesn’t though. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him. You can hear him as he sits on the bed. You stay under the covers, sniffling and letting the tears run down leaving a wet patch on the bedding.

“I thought she was dead. I mourned for her. I punished you for her death,” you say between sobs. His hand lands on your back and he rubs it through the covers.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. You scoff and crawl out from under the covers looking at him. You can smell her, and it makes you feel sick.

“When did you find out?” you ask. Maybe he’s known for days, weeks. Maybe he always knew and he lied to you all this time.

“Last night. Kate called to tell me she was on her way,” he says. You believe him. He scoots closer to you in the bed reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“You know what’s the worst part?” you ask him as he brushes your tears away. “I broke the bond I had with her. I let her go. I don’t think I want to repair it.” Guilt fills the air. John gets up, towering above you and cupping your face in his hands.

“You don’t have to, but whatever you want, we’ll be here. We’re a pack.” You nod looking up at him. You should be happy she’s back. She’s not dead after all.

“Can we just spend some time together? That’s all I wanted to do today.” You expect him to say no. He’s going to be busy with Piper. He leans over to kiss you.

“Let me talk to Simon,” he says, breaking from the kiss and stroking your cheek. You smile back at him. He leaves the room and you lay back on the bed. The room is pretty, lit up with shades of deep orange and red. You look up at the ceiling. It would be selfish of you to not reconnect the bond. She’s not in your pack, you don’t owe her anything.

Yes you do, she gave her life for yours. You owe her your life.

John comes back quicker than you expect. He lays in the bed next to you and you hear the car start. Your head turns to the window even though you can’t see anything.

“They’re going out shopping. They’ll be back in a few hours,” he says. You smile, turning your body and wrapping your arm across his chest. You hum letting his arm squeeze you as he pulls you further up his chest.

“Why is she here now?” you ask.

“She was injured. She needed to recover before she could come,” he says.

“What happened? I want to know how it happened.” You turn your head, looking over at him. He lets out a sigh for a second.

“Okay,” he says. He explains it as you run your hand over his stomach. They found her in the basement of Hale’s mansion. They were taking her out when they found their way into the security room. They could see Hale was on the property, Shadow Company was closing in, Hale had invited investors to the property.

He was making a new lab. Piper explained the ‘contingency’ plan as John calls it. It was a perfect opportunity to deal with Hale and cover their tracks. If the mansion was destroyed there would be nothing to invest in. If Piper was dead and Hale was dead, the DOD would wipe their hands with the matter. Then 141 could be free. They could take you and go, which is what they did.

“We always planned on getting her out, but she loved you so much. She knew what she was doing and why,” he finishes.

You let out a sigh. You don’t know if this has helped or not. You’ve moved on. You’ve moved on without her but deep down you still love her.

You will always look at her like the only stable parental figure in your life. She is the mother in your life, she’s who you think of when you think of your mother. You still love her; that will never change. She has always been there for you through thick and thin. But you have a pack now. Things are different. You don’t need her as much anymore.

“I don’t regret it, letting her go,” you say after a few minutes of silence. “I regret being mad at you. It just feels like time wasted.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We all thought she was gone, you had every right to be upset with me,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Still wasn’t fair though,” you say quietly. He sighs rubbing your arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that. No giving your life for mine. I couldn’t live with myself if any of you did that.”

He smiles at you, his hand coming to your chin, then he leans to kiss you. Your hand presses on his stomach as you let him run over your tongue with his. He’s gentle but firm, it's the kisses you’re used to feeling from him, the ones you’ve missed.

Your hand runs further down his stomach to the waist of his pants. He hums in your mouth, his hand running down from your shoulder to the small of your back. You press your body closer to him, and his kiss becomes quicker, needy.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, breaking from the kiss and pressing your nose next to his. His breath is warm on your face. There’s an ache in your body, a need to be with him. It’s been almost a month. You’ve missed his touch, his scent, everything about him. Your fingers slip below his waistband.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he says.

“I want to, please.” You look up in his eyes, your hand slipping further into his pants. He kisses you, his arms wrapping round you and turning you so you’re off his chest laying flat on the bed. His hand rests on your stomach. His touch is warm as he grips the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts.

It’s like he’s testing your reaction, making sure he’s not going too fast or making you uncomfortable. You relax for him, smiling as his thumb brushes over your nipple. You moan softly. His touch sends vibrations down your spine. He leans down to kiss your stomach.

His lips are soft but his beard tickles your skin. Your hands come down to pull your top off over your head. He moves up to your chest. His tongue runs up between your breasts before moving to one of your nipples. You close your eyes, tipping your head back. One of your hands runs through his hair, massaging his scalp. He likes that, his teeth nipping at your nipples, making you rub your legs together in an attempt to quell the throb.

His free hand easily slips past the waistband of your PJ shorts and into your underwear. You spread your legs for him, his fingers imminently finding your clit. The contact is brief before he presses down between your folds, his fingers gathering some of the slick that is building up.

He pulls his mouth off your nipple as his fingers go back to rubbing your clit.

“John,” you moan, opening your eyes so you can see him. His other hand comes around your back, propping you up slightly as his fingers are gentle, slow. He’s pressing just hard enough to make your whole body relax against him. Your breathing picks up, your hands gripping the bedding. You’re rocking your hips against his hand.

“That's it, c’mon, make yourself feel good,” he says, his voice low, rumbling. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

He hums into your neck, his fingers moving down to your entrance. He presses two fingers into you. The stretch feels good. You forgot how thick he is, even just his fingers. You moan out gripping the bedding tighter, his fingers immediately rubbing against the spongy spot inside you. He curls his fingers as he presses kisses on your face.

You clench around him, spreading your legs as far as you can, bending your knees. The scent of vanilla fills the air, and it makes saliva build up in your mouth. You lean over and kiss him pressing your tongue against his.

His arm supports you as he speeds up, his fingers pushing you closer to the peak. He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead against yours. You still have a hand running through his hair. You grip it tighter, panting as you cum, pulsing around his fingers. He slows down his movements, riding you through the orgasm.

His lips come back to yours. This time, he kisses you deep. He moans in your mouth like he’s drinking you up. He breaks away, letting you breathe, then his arms leave you to pull his shirt over his head. You reach out just wanting to be able to touch him. You run your hand up to his pecs.

He reaches down, picking your hand up before kissing your fingers.

“Missed your alpha, huh?” he says. You blush nodding. He smiles quickly, kissing your fingers again. He swings himself off the bed reaching down to undo his belt and pull his pants off. You do the same, still laid on the bed, shimmying your pyjama bottoms and underwear off.

You fling them off the bottom of the bed before going up to look at John scooting his way back towards you. You put your hand out to stop him. He looks confused for a second. You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I want to try something,” you say. He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he says somewhat skeptically.

“Lay down,” you say. He follows your instructions, laying back, his head resting on the pillows. You’re not really sure what you’re doing but you want to try what you learned from Johnny and Kyle. You kneel down next to him sitting back on your legs. His cock is already hard. He’s bigger than Johnny. All of the sudden you don’t know if you’ll be able to do this, but you want to try anyway.

You reach out for his cock rubbing your thumb over the swollen head. You remember what Kyle showed you yesterday, and you press your thumb on the underside, letting your hand work all the way down. He moans softly and you look over to see his head relaxed back on the pillows. Whatever it is you’re doing, you must be doing something right.

You bend over pressing your lips to the tip. Precum is spread across them before you thrust your mouth down him. He lets out a louder moan, his cock twitching in your mouth. You smile, you’re definitely doing something right. You keep going taking him as far as you can even if it’s uncomfortable. His hand cups the back of your neck, his thumb brushing his mark before his fingers lace through your hair.

You find yourself pushing your mouth further and further each time. You have to use both your hands when you pull back up to the top. You like making him feel good, that's your job as an omega, to make him feel good. The way his fingers brush your scalp, his little moans and twitches in your mouth let you know you’re doing a good job.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when he shifts causing you to pull your mouth off him. His hand comes down from your head to rub your cheek.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, your cheeks going red. Maybe you’re not as good as you thought you were.

“Oh no, you did perfect. Christ, where'd you learn to do that?”

You smile at him. He tips his head before sitting up to give you a kiss. You let his arms come round you, pulling you against him and he moves you to lay you on your back. He makes sure you’re comfy on the pillows before leaning over you.

“Now it’s my turn to take care of my perfect omega.” He smiles as you part your legs, his hand runs up your thigh. It makes goosebumps rise on your body as he maneuvers himself between your legs.

You wrap your hands around his neck. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive skin at the base of his skull. He looks down at you, his eyes glossy in the evening sun. It’ll be dark soon. You almost miss his cock pressing against your entrance. A second later he presses into you. It’s like an instant relief: your mind goes blank, no more Piper, no more worries about the future. It’s just you and your alpha, the way it should be.

“I missed you,” you breathe.

He smiles down at you, his face inches from yours. You can feel his breaths picking up as he picks up his speed.

“I’ve missed you too,” he hums in your ear. You tip your head up, baring your neck for him. You project your scent in the air. Vanilla and strawberries fills your nose. It feels so right, your alpha being inside you, his lips on yours. It feels safe and right being in his arms. It’s different from being with Johnny and Kyle. You pant into his neck. He holds you tight. You don’t need to do anything, just lay there and enjoy yourself.

You run your hands down his arms resting them on his chest. You can feel each muscle tense under your fingers. You close your eyes, arching your back slightly. Now it feels like he’s hitting you deeper, your moans becoming more frequent. His breathing picks up too and he speeds his thrusts up to match.

You’re reaching the peak quicker than you expected, your fingers curling the hair on his chest. He’s missed this too, you can tell by the way he’s not quite focused, his usual calm and collected exterior melts for you. His breathing picks up as he adjusts his angle, his moans becoming sweeter, more breathy and desperate.

“John—” You clench around him trying to stop the orgasm rising in your core. He smiles at you picking up speed again as you start to squirm under him.

“It’s okay, C’mon, you don’t have to wait. You deserve to feel good,” he says, his voice low in your ears making a tingle travel down your spine. It’s enough to push you over the edge. He doesn’t stop as you throb around him, your back arching, each part of your body almost shaking. It doesn’t take long for him to cum too, his thrusts slowing and becoming longer.

Eventually, he slows panting into your neck before he comes up to kiss you. You go back to running your fingers through his hair. He looks down at you. You smile at him and he smiles back. You don’t know if it's the post orgasm haze or the evening night but you think it’s the most beautiful he has ever looked.

He pulls out, shifting his body to lay down next to you. You lay there looking up at the ceiling watching the shadows of the trees on the wall. When your breathing slows you turn over to him, running your hand over his chest. He wraps his arms around you pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls you tighter and you nuzzle your face into his chest breathing him in. You lay there in silence listening to his heartbeat.

“C’mon, let's get cleaned up,” he says after a few minutes. You groan as he pulls away from you, getting up off the bed. He holds his hand out and you take it following him into the bathroom. You run the bath while he goes around getting towels and fresh clothes.

He comes back, gripping your waist as you’re reaching into the bath to test the water. He presses kisses across your neck and back as you lean up against him. When the bath is full you turn the taps off letting him get in first. You lay back against his chest letting the water warm you. His arms wrap round you and he nuzzles his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin. You lean back further against him, letting the water come up over your shoulders.

“John, are things going to change?” There’s silence for a few seconds as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, when we leave here are things going to be different?”

“Maybe, but you don’t need to worry about it.” You don’t know what to say. Of course you have to worry about it.

“Piper is back. You can get a cure. You don—” He shuffles, causing you to turn against his chest.

“Hey, we’re not going anywhere. We’re a pack remember. Whatever happens, we’ll make it work okay?”

You sigh at his words. You want to believe him.

“Do you trust Piper?”

“I trust her.”

You smile dipping your hand under the water letting it run down his thigh.

“She survived. Maybe—” you suck in a breath not wanting to say it. “Do you think maybe Professor Hale survived too?”

“No,” he says immediately. You smile. “He’s dead, Laswell confirmed it.”

You relax. You thought it would feel different, you thought you might miss him. You don’t. It feels right; he’s dead in the ground where he belongs.

You pull your braid out as John starts to wash you, taking his time lathering you all over with soap. You turn round in the tub kneeling between his legs to wash him. He offers to braid your hair again but you decide not to. Maybe you’ll let Piper do it again now that she’s back.

When you hear the car pull up you get out of the bath putting on fresh pajamas. John leads you downstairs, his hand on your back. When you get to the kitchen you see Johnny opening some pizza boxes.

“Thought you might need something to fill you up after all that ‘strenuous exercise’,” Johnny chuckles, nudging Kyle.

“You’re a menace,” Simon says, tapping him over the back of the head. You feel yourself blushing as you go over to sit on one of the stools.

“Try this one, no mushrooms,” Kyle says, pushing a plate with a slice on for you. You smile at him taking a bite as John comes to sit next to you. Piper is standing at the other end of the island. She’s already half way through a slice. She smiles at you too.

You look away sighing. The pizza is good but for some reason it doesn’t sit right in your stomach. You’re not really that hungry. You really want to go to bed. You push the plate away with the half eaten slice.

“I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed,” you say getting up.

“You sure?” John asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod. Maybe you’re not tired and you just want some alone time. You’re not sure. All you know is you’re not ready to talk to Piper yet, not after you’ve had such a good time with John.

When you make it upstairs you wonder where Piper is going to sleep. Maybe she’ll take your room. You don’t mind sleeping with John but you also like your own space. You go to your room cracking the door open. You don’t mind if she takes it. You head into John’s room and climb into the bed. You open one of the windows slightly so the lingering smell of vanilla will air out.

As soon as you lay down and can smell his scent on his pillows, you relax, closing your eyes and breathing it in. You’ll talk to her tomorrow, clear the air and move on. It’s what’s best for you, and what’s best for the pack.

…

You’re back in the bunker. Alarms are blaring. You can barely think. The place is dark only lit up by flashing emergency lights. You stumble out of your room. You make it into the lab and there are bodies everywhere. You can’t smell anything other than the sickly smell of fresh blood.

When you make it to the open corridor something stops you. You’ve never been far outside your room alone before. Now no one is stopping you. There are more bodies out here, you don’t recognise any of them.

A crash pulls your attention to the end of the hall. You see Piper stumbling out of a room forcing a door closed behind her. Even from this distance you can see her covered in blood, her white lab coat and blonde hair stained crimson.

She spots you and rushes towards you checking over her shoulder every now and then. You’re panicking, you can’t think, all you know is something is horribly wrong. When she reaches you, her cold hands grip your shoulders. There’s blood splashed across her face, and it’s all you can smell in the air, the smell of iron.

“Hale is coming,” she says in a panic, pressing something into your hand. You look down. It's a pistol sticky with blood. It feels heavy in your hands, and cold.

“You need to get out of here. Don’t let anyone stop you.” She’s forcing you to look at her as a bang down the hall makes you jump. The weapon feels heavy and foreign, but you don’t have time to worry about it. She grabs your arm tight, her nails digging into your skin as she drags you down the hall.

“We need to get out of here before he comes,” she says, but she’s dragging you away from the exit. You try to protest but before you get a chance to tell her, a door ahead of you crashes open. You see the Professor step out. Piper turns to look at you. He’s coming towards you. She moves out the way.

“Shoot him! You’ve got to shoot him or he’ll kill us!”

You bring the weapon up to your eye line. You’re shaking. You’re not sure what you’re doing. He steps towards you. It’s like he’s growling.

“How dare you!” he shouts, his voice ringing in your ears. Your finger moves to the trigger. You’re not even sure if you’re doing it right but you don’t care. You’re terrified and he’s coming towards you with anger in his eyes. He’s bigger than you remember, blood splashed across his face and clothes.

“Quick, if he gets to us he’ll kill us!” Piper yells in your ear. You don’t want to. Something is trying hard to stop you. A pit forms in your stomach as he speeds up his strides coming towards you. You back up but you just hit Piper. She’s screaming in your ear. You close your eyes and shoot.

…

There’s a noise louder than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You don’t know what's happened but there’s someone pressing you hard up against a wall. It hurts and it feels like you can’t breathe. You try to cry out but you can’t. Someone is fighting with you, pulling something out of your hand.

A scream catches in your throat as you squeeze your eyes closed.

“You’re okay, hey, just breathe.” There are warm hands on your face. It’s John. You open your eyes blinking a few times looking at his face. His eyes wide; he looks worried. Whoever is holding you against the wall slowly lets you down and you stumble into his arms. He guides your body down to the floor as you bury your head in his neck. You’re not sure what happened but you’re not in the bedroom.

“What happened?” you ask, looking over his shoulder at Johnny and Kyle. Simon is the one behind you. He was the one who pinned you to the wall. You gasp seeing the pistol in Johnny's hand. Tears well up in your eyes and your stomach drops. You’ve done this before. You’ve been disoriented, shaken out of a sleep state covered in blood. Scalpel in your hand, bodies on the floor.

You break from the hug as you see Piper walking up the steps.

“Did I hurt anyone?” you ask, looking at John.

“No, you didn’t. It's okay,” he says, still holding your shoulders. Your lip quivers as you hang your head. You could have killed them. You were sleeping in the same bed as John, you could have killed him.

“I’m sorry.” You throw yourself back in his arms sobbing. He rubs your back, shushing you and telling you it’s okay. You hear footsteps, people going down the stairs. Another hand lands on your shoulder, and you assume it’s Simon. You don’t listen to what John says. Your ears are still ringing.

“C’mon, let's go back to bed,” he says after the last set of footsteps makes it downstairs. You nod, pulling your face off his chest as he helps you to your feet. He helps you into the bed then shuffles in behind you, pulling your back against his chest and locking his legs with yours.

“I could have killed you,” you say. He squeezes you tighter.

“You didn’t.”

You could have though. You could have hurt your pack.

John walks into the kitchen. Everyone is spread around, heads hung. He sighs. The air is thick with guilt. The sun is just peeking through the clouds. It took him longer than normal to get you to settle. He waited till you fell asleep, sniffling and apologising until you exhausted yourself. It was better than nothing.

“How is she?” Kyle asks.

“Sleeping,” he says. His eyes fall on Piper sitting at the dining room table.

“Should someone be with her?” Johnny asks.

“No, we need to talk. All of us,” John says, turning to Simon. He leans in and Simon tips his head towards him. “How was the trip out?”

“Interesting.”

John turns his head slightly to look over at Piper sitting at the table. He hums then looks back at Simon.

There’s something she’s not saying.

Simon moves to stand behind her next to the fireplace crossing his arms. A little bit of pressure should get her to talk.

“Have they been getting worse?” she asks as John turns to look at her.

“Better actually, this is the first time in a while,” John explains. Piper sighs looking down at her mug.

“First time she’s ever done anything this extreme,” Kyle says.

“Where did she get it from?” Johnny asks, looking at the pistol on the table.

“It was the one in the bedside table. I had no idea she even knew it was there,” John says walking over to the table where Piper is sitting.

“This has happened before in the bunker. She would sleepwalk and get into places we never thought she could get access too. She would find weapons and attack the staff,” Piper says solemnly. “It’s my fault. Sorry.”

She looks back up around the room. No one says anything. John studies her face. She was cagey during their talk, the long drive from the next town over to here. There’s something she’s holding back.

“Hale’s alive,” John says. He watches as the others take in what he just said. The only person who doesn’t react is Simon. He’s not wearing his mask right now but he might as well be.

“When did you find out?” she asks

“When Laswell called me,” John says, walking over to the table and sitting down.

“How did you manage to get out? We saw the building collapse on you,” Kyle says.

“I don’t know. Call it divine intervention if you want. I thought I was going to die.”

John hums. He doesn’t doubt that.

“How do you know Hale is alive?” Kyle asks, going to sit down at the table.

“He’s in Florida. Someone Kate knew got info for us.” She reaches down, taking a folder out of her bag. “She thought it would be better if I brought the papers in person.”

“Who was her contact?” Johnny asks.

“Keller,” John replies, opening the folder and skimming through it.

“It’s everything me and Kate managed to find on Hale and his movements,” she says. John closes the folder and puts it on the table.

“Why is he in Florida?” John asks. She presses her lips together looking round the room. That’s it. Something to do with Hale and Florida.

“Only Anderson and I knew about his house in Florida. Anderson is definitely dead,” she says. She's fidgeting. John sighs, leaning back. He keeps his eyes on her. Simon shifts standing up straight, increasing the pressure ever so slightly.

“I wasn’t completely open with you all. He’s in Florida because, that's where his daughter is buried.” She pauses to look around. John lets out a long breath. “She was the first omega. He needs omega DNA to make more of the formula. It was either dig Vanessa up or come after you.”

“Is that possible? How long has she been dead for?” Johnny asks.

“Almost 25 years,” Piper says. A somber look has fallen over her face as she grips onto the mug in her hands. “It is possible, well theoretically. Hale must have the means to do it or he would have fled the country.”

“What do you think he’s planning?” John asks. She shrugs.

“He’s still paying Shadow Company to protect him,” John says.

“They found us in Canada,” Kyle says.

“You think they could be in the UK?” Johnny asks.

“Don’t know. We have to assume the worst. Laswell is keeping an eye on things.”

“Kate had a theory. The reason Hale needs a copy of the formula is to give it to Commander Graves and the rest of Shadow Company.” Piper looks up at John to see his reaction.

“What makes her think that?”

“His assets are all tied up in real estate. He has a little bit of cash in offshore accounts but not enough to cover the cost of hiring them privately for the foreseeable future.”

“He’s building a personal army,” Kyle says. There’s a few seconds of silence.

“It would explain why he ran to Florida instead of fleeing the country. Shadow Company would have been able to get him over the border. He could have slipped under the radar. Would have taken us months to find him again,” John says. His eyes flick up to Simon.

“What if his ego is just that big he needs to have a copy of the formula? Make himself into an asset. As long as he has the formula, the US government still needs him,” Johnny says

“The US government thinks he's dead. I don’t think he cares enough about his ego to dig his daughter up. He loved her,” Piper says. There’s sadness in her voice.

“Did you know her?” John asks. She nods.

“What happened?” Kyle asked.

“The formula was unstable. Her body couldn’t handle the physical transformation. She died after a few months,” she says.

“How old was she?” John asks.

“17.” There’s silence in the room. Eventually someone sighs. Piper's head snaps up to Johnny who’s standing with his arms crossed. “That was when he disappeared for 2 years and came back with the omega.”

“And you still kept working for him?” Kyle scoffs. John can hear the spite in his voice. She just sighs, hanging her head again.

“He was trying to change the world. The formula has the potential to change the world. Do things we could only dream of seeing in our lifetime, cancer and genetic diseases eradicated, people healthy. The super soldiers were just the start. There was even research to support the potential for immortality,” Piper says, hostility in her voice. “The alpha, omega thing that’s just a side effect. That’s why he was trying to perfect the formula. It would have never been ready until he could get rid of that side effect.”

Simon scoffs, going back into the kitchen. She sighs looking back up at John.

“He wasn’t always a monster. It was after his daughter's death. Something snapped in him.”

“Sounds like you don’t disagree with him,” Kyle says.

“No. I don’t. I don’t disagree with his vision, that's why I stayed. I do disagree with his methods. What he did to the omega was wrong. She didn’t deserve everything she went through.”

This time Johnny lets out a sharp scoff.

“Okay, calm down. This isn’t helping anyone,” John says, sitting back up in his chair. “Both of you go check on her then get some rest,” he says waving Johnny and Kyle away. He hears their huffs and murmurs under their breath. He looks over at Simon, his arms crossed leaning up against the kitchen island, his eyes digging into Piper.

John sighs, leaning forward and pulling Piper's attention up to him.

“You always said you’re not one of the good guys,” he says. “I think that's the only time you’re honest with yourself.”

She keeps her gaze on him. He can see sadness in her eyes. He can smell her determination in the air.

“You don’t work for Hale anymore. What happened in the bunker is the past.”

“I know.”

“Our job is to keep the omega safe. Your job is to find a cure. We need to work together for her sake at least.”

“I won’t do anything to harm her, ever.”

“I know that.” There’s silence again, she looks down at her cup.

“I thought I was going to die. I should have died.” He can smell her guilt in the air.

“You said you had injuries that would never heal,” he says, trying to move the subject on. She nods, pulling the sleeve on her left arm up. Her whole arm is littered with uneven bumps and bright red skin. They look like burns but old ones from maybe a few months ago.

“My leg and stomach are the same. Burns can take years to heal, I don’t know how long these will take.” She pulls the sleeve back down then looks up at John pointing at her eye. “I don’t have any vision in my left eye. I don’t know if that will ever come back.”

“How about the Professor?” John asks.

“I don’t know.” John leans back in his chair.

“How much do we want to tell her? Are we going to tell her about the Professor, Vanessa?” Piper asks.

“She almost distressed at the hospital in Canada. We almost lost her,” John says, his voice low. “I don’t know what stopped her or what kept her here but I know I never want to see her like that again.”

“I understand but she will find out eventually,” Piper says. John looks up at Simon. His lips are pressed together.

“Let’s let her have some peace. It is almost Christmas after all. We can discuss it again in the new year.” He looks at Piper then over at Simon. He can tell she’s not too happy with the idea.

“Go get some rest, we’ll talk later,” John says. She nods at him and picks up her mug moving into the kitchen and putting it in the sink before heading out. Simon waits until the door is closed behind her before standing up and coming over to the table.

“What do you think?” John asks Simon as he sits down in Piper's seat.

“If Graves gets the formula, we’ve lost our advantage. Hale is preparing them to come after the omega. It could already be too late.”

“I’m not talking about that,” John sighs.

“A near death experience can change people. I don’t think she’s lying if that's what you’re asking.”

John sighs, flicking open the folder. He pulls out the top peice of paper pushing it over to Simon.

“How long do you think we’ll have before we have to move?” he asks.

John shakes his head. “Don't know. Laswell will let us know if they move.”

“She’s only one person. She could easily miss them,” Simon says. John sighs. He knows he’s right. They need to keep closer tabs on him. They need to know the second Hale or Graves make a move.

“I need to make some calls. We’re not safe here anymore.” John looks up at Simon, as he thinks of who he can ask for help. He’s going to need every contact he has. Simon reaches out, picking up the piece of paper.

“She’s right, you know. Eventually she will find out. She won’t be too happy knowing you kept it a secret.”

“I know.” He hangs his head sighing. “But I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.”

The next morning you decide you need to talk to Piper. Not here, though. You want to go away from the house. Away from your pack. You don’t know why, it just feels right. You walk into the living room. Everyone but Piper is in there.

“I want to go to the loch,” you say, stepping over to John. He nods, putting his mug down on the coffee table.

“Okay I’ll get changed—“

“No, I want to go alone. With Piper,” you say. Everyone looks up at you, Simon steps up next to you, his hand landing on the small of your back. You see John’s eyes flick up to him. You wait holding your breath hoping he will just let you take the time with Piper.

“Okay,” he says.

You take a step towards him. “Promise.”

“You can go,” he says. You look around the room. You’re not sure if you believe him but you have no other choice.

“Thank you,” you say, leaving the room.

…

“It’s nice here,” Piper says, as you make it around the treeline to the opening of the loch. You both walk over to the edge of the water, the snow covered stones crunching under your feet.

“I dream about this place. While you were gone I dreamt about you,” you say. She turns to look at you.

“Did you dream about me last night?” she asks. You nod, bending down to pick up a stone.

“You were trying to save me.” You throw the stone out into the water. “You handed me a gun and told me to shoot the Professor. It felt so real. They always feel so real.”

“Do you dream a lot about the bunker?” she asks, digging her toe into the stones.

“No. I dream about being a bad omega,” you say, reaching down to pick up another stone.

“Why do you think you're a bad omega?”

“Why does it matter?” you snap back at her. You’re mad. You just don’t want to talk about it. You turn the stone round in your hand.

“If you talk about it you might be able to move through some of the trauma you’re holding on to.”

“Stop analysing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, throwing the stone hard against the water. You’re frustrated and it feels like no one understands. It’s not like there’s another omega you can confide in. Piper talks like she understands but really she’s just like the Professor. She believes in the formula as much as he does.

“My job is to be bred, to have children. Satisfy my alpha and submit to him. I couldn’t even do that.”

You hear her sigh like you’ve just explained everything.

“That's what Hale wanted from you. He’s not here anymore. You get to do whatever you want to. You get to choose,” she says. You sigh, hanging your head, digging your toes into the stones. You don’t believe her. Besides, she’s the one always saying you can’t fight biology.

“I could have been a better omega,” you say, trying to hold the sob back. You haven’t spoken about what happened with anyone. You can’t talk to John; he's your alpha. You don’t want to talk to Kyle or Johnny about it. Simon well… You’re still not sure he even likes you. You failed the pack. You failed at one of the only things you need to do.

You’re not even ready to have kids. You know no one in your pack is ready to have kids, least of all with you. It’s still your job though. It’s what you were made for whether you like it or not. It’s a fundamental part of your biology, and you fucked it up.

“You weren't given a choice. What happened with you getting pregnant was out of your control. You don’t have to feel guilty about that at all.”

“I had a miscarriage. That's what they told me at the hospital.” It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. The person you were carrying inside of you died because you were not good enough. No matter what Piper tells you, that's all you can think. That you were never good enough.

Her hand lands on your arm. “It's not your fault. Your body is not ready to carry a child to term. Professor Hale tried to force a child on you so he could have a pure omega.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

“You would have died. Your body only did what was natural. It did what it had to do to keep you alive,” she says. You look up at her. She brings her hand up to brush your tears away. Her fingers are cold, but it feels familiar, and her touch is gentle. You never thought you would see her again. You step back from her. It doesn’t feel the same. The guilt and disappointment turns to anger. You huff, balling your hands into fists.

“I mourned for you! For weeks I punished John because I thought he let you die,” you shout. Anger is strong in the air. She looks down at her feet for a second then back to you. It feels good, shouting at her, getting out the emotions you’ve bottled up for weeks.

“I know--”

“No! You don’t know. Fuck!” You turn away from her hugging your chest. You’re angry and upset. You should be happy she’s alive, that she’s here.

“I broke my bond with you. I let you go,” you sniffle, wiping the tears away. You hear her walking towards you. “You have no idea what it's like to do that!”

You’re sobbing now. You don’t care if she sees you cry. Her hand lands on your shoulder. You want to throw it off but you can’t bring yourself to do it. She comes around to stand in front of you.

“You promised you would never leave. You promised. I had to go through losing you twice!” Tingles raise up your arms. Your body is pumping with adrenaline. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“I thought I would never see you again. I thought I was going to die.” You can hear the sadness in her voice. You look up at her. You think you see tears in her eyes. Now you feel guilty. You should be happy she’s here, that she’s alive.

“Did it hurt?” you ask. Your dreams have been guilt-filled imagining her slowly dying, trapped under a building.

“No, I’m fine. Well mostly,” she says. She bends down so her head is level with yours. “Nothing that happened is your fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame Hale.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes he is. Rotting in the ground where he deserves to be.”

You nod and throw yourself in her arms. He’s gone, he can't hurt you anymore and she’s alive. You are happy she’s alive. She wraps her arms around you and squeezes. Her scent fills your nose. You close your eyes, breathing her in. Lavender, it makes you relax against her chest.

“I thought it would feel different,” you say. She frowns at you. “When he died, I thought I would feel something, like sadness. It doesn't feel right.”

“You need closure,” she says as a matter of fact.

“How do I do that?”

“I’m not sure. We can figure something out though.”

You smile up at her. You turn back towards the lake and she steps to stand next to you.

“I like it here,” you say. Her hand comes up to rub the top of your back.

“Yeah, I thought you would.” She smiles. You stand there with her hand rubbing your back looking out over the lake until snow starts to fall.

“We should get back,” Piper says. You nod, turning away from the lake.

You’re excited when Johnny suggests going out to the pub for dinner. ‘Can’t come to the UK and not go out for some pub grub.’ He was giddy as soon as you got back, throwing his arm around your shoulders, dragging you into the living room

“I wouldn’t mind a pint,” Kyle says. Simon nods with him in agreement. After a few more minutes of convincing, John finally says yes. Piper decides to stay behind; she has work to do apparently. She waves you off though, stranding in the door as you leave.

When you make it to the town the lights strung up across the road are lit up as a sprinkling of snow starts to fall. You hold Kyle's hand as you walk through the street gawking at the flashy decorations. It’s early evening, but most places are still open and the street is still busy.

You stop at the bookstore looking at the books on display pointing out to Kyle which ones look interesting before he gently pulls you to catch up with the others. The pub is at the end of the street on the corner. It looks like it’s the oldest building in the town: massive curved windows, the door decorated with a mosaic of stained glass.

Johnny goes in first. The heat hits you straight away. The dim orange lights, dark walls and furniture make the whole place feel cozy. It reminds you of Johnny’s house, old, warm and inviting. The whole place smells of food, gravy, beef, other things you can smell but can’t name. It makes your stomach rumble.

“John!” a man calls coming over to you all. You watch as John hugs him. They slap each other on the back, then he looks round the group. Johnny introduces him as Archie, the landlord. The place is pretty busy. There are people chatting and laughing, and soft music is playing in the background. You smile looking up at Kyle who squeezes your hand.

“Didn’t think you were back till new years?” he asks, slapping Johnny on the shoulder.

“Got a little break, thought I should come home for once.”

“Good lad,” Archie says and leads you all over to a table in the far corner of the place. You scoot into the circle booth sitting between John and Kyle. Archie tries to pass menus round but Johnny stops him.

“Five steak and kidney pies with all the trimmings and extra gravy,” Johnny says. “And whatever you have on the tap, surprise us.”

Archie seems happy about that, smiling as he writes it down on a pad before nodding and leaving.

“So you spoke with Piper?” Kyle asks, turning to you. You nod, you’re not sure what to say.

“Yeah, I was mad at her. We talked about it, and I'm not mad at her anymore,” you say.

“That's good. I think it’s nice that she’s back.” You smile at him. You know deep down they’re just happy they can get a cure now. You look back at the table bringing your arms closer to you. You don’t want to spoil the night. Johnny at least seems pretty excited to be out here.

Someone brings a tray of drinks and places them round the table. John puts his hand on your thigh, and you smile, looking up at him. You want to lean up against him but you reach out for your drink instead.

“Cheers!” Johnny says, holding his glass up. Simon and Kyle tap their glasses against his before taking a drink. You look at them, confused. John clicks his glass with yours.

“Cheers,” he says before taking a drink. You follow him, taking a big gulp. It tastes good and you don’t mind the alcohol relaxing you. You listen to them talk. Johnny always seems so enthusiastic, talking about everything. He also seems to know almost everyone, with people coming up to the table to ask him why he’s back so early.

The place is warm and after a few sips of your drink you feel your senses dull out as you relax further into the soft booth. John’s hand stays on your thigh rubbing it or squeezing it under the table as he talks with the others. When you’re halfway through your drinks the food arrives. You sit up and your mouth waters when a plate is placed down in front of you.

There is a mini pie and the side of the plate is topped with mash and veggies smothered in a thick gravy. Your stomach rumbles as you enthusiastically dig into your plate.

“Good?” Johnny asks when you look up at him. You nod enthusiastically, your mouth still full with food. He chuckles going back to his plate. You manage to eat everything on your plate. Simon winds Johnny up, something about English vs Scottish cuisine which makes Kyle and John chuckle every now and then.

Your belly is full and the alcohol has made you feel relaxed. When you’re done you do end up leaning up against John who puts his arm around your shoulders. You’re watching the person behind the bar talking with people and pulling drinks for people. You’re not paying attention to what’s going on as John’s other hand strokes your thigh.

It’s been a good day. You’re happy Piper is back. You’re happy that they’re going to get a cure. Things feel better than they have been in a long while, in weeks. Your time in Washington feels like it was years ago, not weeks. It feels like a different world with different problems.

“Henry!” Johnny says getting up. You turn your head to the other side of the booth. It’s the same guy who you saw a few days ago, the one who greeted Johnny in the carpark.

“I’ve been looking fer ya,” he says. He's drunk but whatever it is he seems pretty insistent on talking to Johnny about it. You sit up, the hairs rising on the back of your neck.

“Some fuckin’ brass were looking, askin’ bout yous,” he slurs. You feel John tighten his grip on your thigh. “Yankies fuckin’ sticking their noses in.”

“They ain’t yankies. English, proper posh,” the bartender says as he clears the table of the empty glasses.

“What did they want?” Johnny asks the bartender.

“Wanted to know where ya place was,” he replies. Johnny turns to look at John. You can feel tension rise around the table.

“You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Didn’t know you were in town. Thought they were renting the place and got lost.” The bartender shrugs walking away.

“Shit,” you hear Simon say under his breath. John’s hand leaves your thigh.

“I told ‘em to fuckin’ sling their hook,” Henry says, waving his hands in the air.

“‘Course ya did,” Johnny says, slapping Henry’s shoulder. He looks over at John who is sitting up. His eyes flick to Simon then back to Johnny. He shuffles his way out the booth, his hand leaving your thigh. You look over at Kyle who smiles at you.

“Go back to the car, we’ll pay and meet you out there,” Simon says, handing keys to Kyle. You’re already scooting out of the booth as soon as he finishes saying it. Kyle’s hand rests on the small of your back as he leads you through the cozy pub that seems to have got busier since you’ve been here.

When you make it outside the snow is heavier. You pull your coat around you tighter. Kyle keeps pressing you down the street to the car park. You can tell something’s wrong with the way they moved, the tension in the air.

“What’s happening?” you ask eventually.

“Nothing. It’s late, we should be getting home. John’ll pay the bill then we’ll be back home before you know it.”

You nod but you don’t believe him. Your mind turns to Piper. She's alone at the house. If people went there looking for you, they’ll find her. They could hurt her.

You feel like Kyle can smell your worry in the air as you make it to the car. He opens the door so you can get in the back. You start pulling the skin around your nails trying to keep calm. There’s no reason to be worried. Like Kyle said: it’s late, it’s dark. You watch as the snow falls on the ground melting away before it can set.

Kyle’s hand lands on yours. You look up at him and stop picking your skin. He smiles at you, and you smile back but you can feel your heart pick up, thumping in your chest. You just want to get home and see Piper. You have a gut feeling something is wrong.

You’re only waiting a few more minutes before Johnny, Simon and John pile into the car. There’s a heavy silence. No one says anything, they just share glances between each other. Simon drove the way here but now John is in the driver seat pulling out of the car park before Johnny has even got his seat belt on next to you.

The ride goes in silence. The small county roads have no lights, and all you can see is the snow hitting the window as John speeds as quickly as he dares back to the house. John stops the car further away from the house than normal.

The house is dark, no lights on inside or out. You grip Johnny's arm. John turns the car lights off. Now it’s pitch black. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

“It’s quiet,” Kyle says.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” you say, trying to hide the fear building inside you. John’s eyes are still scanning the building.

“Ghost, Soap. Go round the back, through the kitchen--” John doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the front door opens and the outdoor lights come on.

“Captain Price, we’re not here to fight.”

“Not American,” Simon says. You move so you can get a better look. It’s not just one person, there are multiple people walking out. They’re all wearing suits, some with guns in their hands or bullet proof vests on.

“Where’s Piper?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Stay here,” John says. You nod leaning back to sit in the seat. Everyone else gets out, Johnny, Kyle and Simon have weapons in their hands now. You look around the car confused—where the hell do they get this stuff from?

The strangers take a few tentative steps towards John. John stops and they do too.

“Major Williams, MI6.” He holds something up. He’s young, skinny with groomed thick black hair. “Your associate Kate Laswell, she said you were busy in Urzikstan. I told her ‘Urzikstan for Christmas must be rough.’” He chuckles before clearing his throat.

“What do you want?” John asks. Williams takes another step forward, but his entourage stays behind. John holds his ground. You can only see Simon and Johnny who have weapons trained on him.

“You’ve got yourself wrapped up in a bit of a mess from what I heard. Something about an omega project? Ring any bells?”

John doesn’t say anything.

“You’re hiding one of the lead scientists out here. I thought Dr. Montgomery was dead. Don’t tell me you have Professor Hale hidden here somewhere too,” he chuckles again. He seems nervous. Your stomach sinks. Where is she?

“God, don't look so worried. She’s fine, just took a hit to the head. Thought we were a threat I guess. Look, I'm not here to take her away from you or the omega you’ve got hiding somewhere. I’m here on official business from Her Majesty’s secret service. You know the drill. We’ve had our eyes on Professor Hale’s little project for a while now. So you must understand we were delighted to find out you had two of the most important pieces hidden up here.” The man kicks the snow at his feet.

“We want the omega project. With Professor Hale gone there is no one in the US to continue the project. MI6 is willing to fund and supervise the research of the formula.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It’s never going to end.

There’s always going to be someone to take up Hale's position. There is always going to be someone after you. If it’s not the Americans, it's now the British. Who knows, next week the Russians could be after you. You just want to be free, but maybe you’ll never be free. You can’t let that eat you up now. You want to find Piper.

“We don’t work for you,” John says, pulling you out of your head.

“Technically you do. Put the weapons down, let's talk,” he says holding his hands up. “We can help you too, get General Shepherd off your case, bring in only people you trust. You run this show now. We’re just here to help.”

“Sounds like you want first dibs on the tech?” Johnny says.

“Naturally,” he says nodding.

John turns to look towards the car and everyone lowers their weapons. You open the door getting out the car. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you want to know what happened to Piper. They said she hit her head, was she injured?

Johnny and Kyle turn to look at you. You feel everyone's eyes on you. You walk over to Kyle grabbing his arm. You look down at the weapon in his hands. It sends a shiver up your spine. You look up at him and he smiles.

“Where’s Piper,” you ask, trying to be quiet but you know they can hear you.

“Dr. Montgomery?” John asks. Williams steps to the side gesturing to the house.

“Inside with an icepack on her head,” he says. John looks back at you quickly. You’re still holding onto Kyle’s arm.

John sighs and walks up to the man. Everyone else holds their ground. You can’t hear them talking. His voice is low and hushed. You try to lean forward to listen but you can’t hear anything. After a few seconds John turns around and walks over to you.

“Soap, Gaz take her in. Get Dr. Montgomery and keep them out the way,” John says. He doesn’t even acknowledge you. His fingers point at people, talking in a hushed voice. You watch him until Johnny and Kyle lead you back to the house. You look down the field past the tree line and see a helicopter parked a little down the hill.

“Great. That field’s fuckin’ runied now,” Johnny whispers under his breath, his eyes digging into the other people who came with Williams. They move out the way letting you pass. You’re still gripping onto Kyle like a vice as he leads up into the living room. You see Piper sat on the sofa holding a towel to her head. She stands up as soon as you come into the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything. One of them has a mean swing,” she says, pulling the towel away. Johnny goes up to inspect it. You’re still digging your nails into Kyle as you look over at your nest. They haven't touched it. You let out a breath, breaking away to go to her.

“It’ll heal quickly,” she says sitting back down as you sit next to her wrapping your arms around her arm. She puts the towel down, her hand resting on yours.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her hand squeezing you.

“Not sure yet. Seems like the UK has taken an interest in continuing Hale’s work,” Kyle says. You look back over at your nest. It’s the only place you want to be right now. You want to curl up in it and forget what's happening. It’s like a bubble where nothing can hurt you. You’re not listening to Piper and Kyle talk. You focus on the fire cracking. It’s going to need another log or it will die out.

“—I don’t think we’ll be staying here much longer,” you hear Johnny say. Your head snaps up to him.

“No,” you say. Everyone turns to look at you.

“We’ll come back. Promise,” Johnny says. It doesn’t feel right. You look back over at your nest, unlooping your arm from Piper’s. You get up going over to it, bending down and running your fingers over the blue blanket that came with you all the way from Canada.

“You okay?” you hear Johnny ask. You nod your head. You ignore what’s going on around you, pulling your shoes off before crawling under the blanket. You press your feet up against the stone wall of the fireplace letting the warmth rise up your body.

You’re facing away from the living room. You don’t want to leave. You like it here. John and Johnny said you’d come back but for some reason you don't believe them. You pull the blanket further around you and close your eyes.

…

John walks into the living room almost 2 hours later. Johnny’s the only one left. Kyle and Piper went to bed about half an hour ago. There was no way Johnny was going to leave you alone until John and Simon were done with their meeting.

John hears the front door close behind him, a cold draft wafting in. He looks over at you. You’re curled up sleeping in your nest facing out into the room. John goes over to sit on the sofa next to Johnny.

“Go get some rest. I’ll stay with her,” John says.

“Piper said to leave her be. I don’t think she’s too happy we might be moving soon,” Johnny says looking over at you. “She won’t be comfy if she sleeps in her nest all night.”

“No, but it’s where she feels safe,” John sighs. Johnny gets up heading for the door.

“When do you think we’ll be leaving?” he asks.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Johnny takes the hint, nodding and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He spent the last 2 hours navigating the finer details of this plan.

He already has a stack of paperwork to go through, NDA’s to sign, people to contact. He’d never worked with the secret service before, this would be new to him. The pay was good though and he was looking forward to getting Shepherd off his back. With the access MI6 could give them they could keep an even closer eye on Hale and Shadow Company. All he needs to do now is convince them to let Kate help.

They made a lot of promises he doesn’t think will ever happen but at least they’ll be safe. They can stay in the UK working out of a MI6 facility. John looks back over at you, your hand gripping one of the many pillows you’ve placed in your nest. It does look comfy.

He gets up going over to you. He sits down next to you leaning against the wall. His fingers brush hair behind your ear and he sighs. They’re going to have to move again but this time they’ll do it right. No rushing around, no more strangers they don’t trust. If everything goes according to plan it’s going to be their way.

“We’re going to keep you safe. I promise,” he says brushing your face. “It’s not going to be like last time. No more surprises.” He reaches down, picking up your hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. A few seconds later John hears the familiar noise of helicopter blades start up.

The noise gets louder as the helo lifts off the ground causing you to stir, gripping John's hand as you blink up at him sleepy.

“Did they leave?” you ask. He nods, smiling at you.

“Want to come to bed?” he asks. You shake your head. You want to stay in this perfect bubble. He tips his head slightly, his fingers brushing your face.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You smile up at him. Maybe he’s right. It might be different this time. You might even be able to stay here but you don’t count on it. He bends over kissing you on the top of your head and pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says getting up. You smile watching as he leaves the room, turning the standing light off as he does. The only light that comes in is the warm light from the fire. You yawn, closing your eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

Dividers by gild-ui & plum98

67 notes · View notes

zylokv · 2 days ago

Text

VOW UNDONE. — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — the betrayal hits harder when it comes from someone you thought had your back.

word count ! — 10.4k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

part five !

your fingers hover over the screen as the video ends, but you don’t move. the room feels colder, quieter, suffocating in its stillness. you blink, but the tears that well up refuse to fall, blurring the edges of everything.

your chest feels tight, the kind of ache that spreads, starting small and then consuming you, piece by piece. your hands tremble, gripping the usb drive like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

because you know. deep down, you know.

you try to take a breath, but it hitches, a sharp, jagged thing that only makes your head spin more.

“fuck,” you whisper, the word cracking as it leaves your lips.

the realization feels too big, too heavy to hold on your own. you stand abruptly, pushing back your chair so hard it scrapes against the floor, the sound grating.

you need answers. you need someone to tell you why.

grabbing your coat and keys, you shove the usb drive into your pocket and head for the door, not even bothering to lock it behind you. the drive to sehun’s office is a blur. the tears don’t fall, but your chest burns with the effort of holding them back.

it’s only when you burst through his office door that the dam finally starts to crack.

“you,” you choke out, voice already raw.

sehun looks up, startled, his usual smirk wiped clean off his face when he sees yours.

“hey, what’s going—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. you take a step closer, your hand gripping the back of a chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

he stands, his brows knitting in concern—or maybe it’s guilt. “okay, let’s take a breath—”

“don’t you fucking tell me to breathe,” you snap, your voice breaking.

the anger rises first, sharp and hot, and before you know it, your fist slams against his desk. the pain shoots up your arm, grounding you for just a second before you’re looking at him again, eyes wild and brimming with unshed tears.

“you knew, didn’t you?” your voice shakes, but the words spill out anyway. “you knew what was on that drive, and you still gave it to me.”

sehun’s face hardens, but there’s something softer in his eyes—pity, maybe. you hate it.

“listen—”

“no, you listen!” you’re shouting now, the tears finally spilling over, hot and relentless. “do you have any idea what it’s like? to see that? to feel like your entire life is a fucking lie?”

your voice cracks on the last word, and you falter, your shoulders trembling as the weight of it all comes crashing down.

you sink into the chair, burying your face in your hands. the sobs come, harsh and unrelenting, ripping through you like a storm.

“why?” you whisper, your voice muffled but desperate. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me? why would you let me find out like this?”

sehun steps closer, his expression conflicted. he hesitates, and you feel the weight of his gaze, but you can’t look at him.

“i thought…” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair. “i thought you deserved the truth. even if i'm your enemy and even if it hurts.”

you laugh bitterly, wiping at your face. “well, congratulations. it fucking hurts. you've defeated me.”

he sighs, leaning against the desk, watching you like he doesn’t know what to say.

you don’t wait for him to figure it out. you stand, your legs shaky but determined, and head for the door.

“wait—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice hollow now. “just don’t.”

and with that, you’re gone, leaving him and his half-formed apologies behind.

-----

the house is unnervingly quiet when sana steps inside, calling out, “hey? you here?” her voice echoes faintly in the stillness. it wasn’t like them to leave without saying anything.

she looks around, her gaze darting to the empty couch and the untouched pile of toys in the corner. she frowns. it was rare for the place to feel this lifeless, and a strange unease creeps in.

“they better not have forgotten we had plans,” she mutters under her breath, slipping off her shoes.

she’d come over to hang out, and return something she borrowed, something you had been frantically searching for last week. she’d laughed about their scatterbrained tendencies at the time, but now, standing in the oddly quiet house, the humor felt distant.

her gaze catches on the faint glow coming from the slightly ajar office door. they never leave their office like that.

curiosity gets the better of her. “are you in there?” she calls, stepping closer.

the desk is a mess—papers scattered, a mug half-empty, and the laptop on but unattended. her eyes land on the screen. a downloaded video file is open, frozen on the first frame.

she reaches out, brushing the mouse to wake the screen fully. the video stutters to life, and her breath catches as the image sharpens.

mina.

with him.

sana freezes, her stomach plummeting as the scene unfolds before her. her heartbeat thunders in her ears, and she stumbles back a step, the chair bumping against her leg.

“no,” she whispers, her voice shaking.

her phone is in her hand before she realizes it, dialing their number with trembling fingers. it rings, and rings, and then cuts to voicemail. she curses softly, trying again.

still nothing.

panic surges. sana presses a hand to her forehead, pacing the small space. she glances at the screen again, her chest tightening painfully at the implications.

thinking quickly, she scrolls through her contacts and dials mina instead. the line barely connects before mina answers, her tone calm, composed, and unaware. “sana? what’s wrong?”

“where are you?” sana’s voice is sharp, trembling with urgency.

“what?” mina sounds taken aback. “what are you—”

“where are you.” sana cuts her off, her voice rising.

mina pauses, clearly unsettled. “at myoui residence. why? what’s goin—”

but sana doesn’t wait to hear more. all she can think is that you're probably with mina. she hangs up mid-sentence, shoving her phone into her pocket as she storms out of the house.

her hands tighten around the steering wheel as she speeds toward the myoui residence, her mind racing with every possible scenario. the image of the video lingers, vivid and damning.

“damn it, mina.” she mutters under her breath, the weight of what she’s just seen pressing down on her chest.

-----

you could feel the anger seeping into every inch of your body as you drove to the myoui residence. the tight grip on the steering wheel, the pounding in your chest, the way your pulse seemed to quicken with each passing second—it was all too much. you were trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some kind of calm, but every thought of what had been happening—the lies, the betrayal—pushed you closer to snapping.

when you finally pulled into the driveway, your fingers still gripping the wheel like you might break it, you took a deep breath. calm. you had to be calm. but you knew that as soon as you stepped out of the car, it was all over.

you walked up to the garden, taking slow, deliberate steps, trying to compose yourself, but it didn’t help. your eyes immediately landed on the scene before you—mina, sitting there, too damn composed as always, and bambam, joking with momo and laughing like nothing in the world mattered. momo was playing with hiro, and there it was. that was the moment.

your heart pounded in your ears. they were here. he was here. everything you had been holding back was threatening to break.

you took one more deep breath, tightening your jaw as you walked over to the butler. “take hiro inside. now.”

the butler didn’t ask questions. he just nodded, understanding the tension in the air. within moments, he had hiro in his arms, retreating inside the house, leaving you alone with them.

suddenly, rushed footsteps entered the garden but you paid no attention.

sana’s voice broke through the air then, frantic and high-pitched, practically running as she rushed toward you, her face a mask of panic. “yah! are you okay?” she asked, her hands reaching for you, trying to make sense of what was happening.

but you couldn’t even look at her, not with the way your rage was bubbling up inside you.

mina, watching from her spot, saw right through it. for the first time, she was confused. her calm, collected expression never wavered, but you could feel the tension crackling between you two.

“what’s going on?” mina asked, her voice deceptively soft, like she hadn’t just thrown you into this mess.

before you could answer, bambam stood up, still smiling like a damn idiot. the sight of him made your blood run cold. it was the last straw. you didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t care. you moved faster than anyone could stop you, rushing at bambam and slamming your fist into his face.

the first hit landed with a sickening crunch, his head jerking back. he barely had time to react before you hit him again, and again, your fists connecting with his face,—each blow fueled by the seething anger you could no longer control.

“you think you can just come in here like this? like you’ve done nothing wrong?” you spat, throwing another punch, this one aimed at his nose. your knuckles cracked against his bone, the sickening pop of bone ringing in your ears.

bambam swung back, his fist connecting with your lips, the pain sharp and instant. blood dripped from your busted lip, but you didn’t care. you kept going.

mina tried to step in, reaching for your arm, but you shoved her off with a violent force that sent her stumbling backward. her shock and confusion were clear, but it didn’t matter. not right now.

“stop! what are you doing!?” momo's voice cut through the chaos, frantic, as she rushed forward, hands gripping your arm in a desperate attempt to pull you away. but you shrugged her off with a force so brutal that she nearly lost her balance.

sana stood frozen, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. she tried to say something, to call out, but you were too far gone.

it wasn’t until your fists slowed, your breath heavy and ragged, that you finally pulled back. bambam was on the ground now, panting, bloodied, and dazed. you stood over him for a moment, chest heaving as you wiped your lip with the back of your hand, smearing more blood across your face.

then you turned your eyes on mina, and the anger was so intense, so palpable, that it felt like the air itself was burning.

you turn to mina then, your eyes dark and furious. your lip is split, but you don’t care. you pull out the USB from my pocket, the one that’s going to show her exactly how far this shit’s gone, and you throw it at her with everything you've got. the impact is sharp, and she flinches as it hits her chest.

“figure this shit out,” you muttered, your voice low and threatening.

momo stood there, shocked, unsure of what to do as she knelt beside bambam, checking on him, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

you took one last look at mina, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to comfort you like she always did.

instead, you turned your gaze to sana, who was still standing off to the side, clearly terrified, but she was the one you let approach you. she hesitated, but only for a second, before stepping closer, reaching out with caution.

mina’s gaze flickered between you and sana, and for the first time, she seemed to understand. she didn’t move.

you stepped back from sana’s touch, but you let her get closer. because it was never going to be mina. not now.

-----

you turn around, throwing the wedding ring down the concrete floor, but before you could even get out of the garden, you heard her voice.

“wait!” mina’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with panic. “please, what happened!?”

but you didn’t stop. you didn’t even look back. you couldn’t.

you knew she was standing there, her hand reaching out, but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her have this.

and then, you heard the sound of footsteps. someone running, frantic, close behind you.

it was sana.

“hey—hey!” she called out, her voice trembling. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. but she didn’t hesitate. she came after you, her steps faster, more urgent than mina’s ever could be.

you didn’t care. you didn’t want anyone. you didn’t want to feel this anymore.

you reached the outside, silently cursing at how giant this place was when you just wanted to get to your car, soon sana was there, standing in front of you, out of breath. “please,” she begged, voice cracking. “let me in. just—just stop.”

but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. not until—

you broke.

it happened all at once. all that control, all that anger, every piece of you that had been holding it in for so long just collapsed in on itself. your chest tightened, and the tears you’d been fighting so hard to keep back came pouring out. sobs wracked your body, violent and raw, like you couldn’t breathe.

sana didn’t say anything. she just wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as you fell apart in her embrace. it wasn’t like the hugs you’d had before, not with her, not with anyone. this was different. this was you—shattering—and sana was there, holding you together with everything she had.

"i can't do this anymore," you choked out between sobs, your hands clutching at her as if she were the only thing keeping you from falling completely apart. “she—she’s been lying to me. she’s been cheating. i—I saw it. i—saw it, sana."

her hands were trembling as she held you, and you could feel her own breath hitch in her throat, like she was trying not to cry with you. she didn’t say anything at first. she just let you break.

but you needed to get it out. needed someone to hear it.

“she hurt me, sana. she did it—and she doesn’t care. did i even fucking matter?” your voice broke, and you couldn’t keep going without falling deeper. “i’ve been so fucking stupid. i thought—i thought maybe she cared, but—fuck, i—i thought she was mine.”

the words burned your throat as you cried harder, a deep, aching sob that felt like it was ripping you open. sana didn’t let go. she held you tighter, her arms around you like a lifeline. but even that wasn’t enough. nothing was enough to fix this.

you didn’t know how long you stood there, sobbing in her arms, but when you finally pulled back, your face was soaked with tears, your lip still bleeding from the fight, your chest heavy with emotion.

sana looked at you, her face pale, eyes wide, but she wasn’t scared. she wasn’t pulling away. she didn’t look at you like mina did. sana saw you—really saw you. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel alone.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “i’m sorry for being like this, for—for everything.”

sana’s eyes softened. her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears, the blood. she didn’t say anything for a long moment, but when she finally did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to be sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, like she was holding back just as much as you were. “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

and in that moment, for just a second, you felt something. something close to hope. because sana—sana—was the only one who didn’t look at you like you were broken. like you were something to fix.

you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely, letting yourself feel it all—the hurt, the loss, the betrayal—and in her arms, for the first time in a long time, you finally felt like it was okay to fall apart.

------

the bar was a haze of dim lights and murmured conversations, but to you, it was just noise. you were slumped over the counter, swirling the amber liquid in your glass like it held the answers to every question you didn’t dare ask.

“another,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. the bartender hesitated but poured anyway, his eyes flickering with concern.

your phone buzzed on the counter, her name lighting up the screen. mina.

you stared at it, the weight of her name pressing down on your chest until it hurt. when it stopped ringing, you exhaled shakily and knocked back your drink.

“you look like you’ve been through hell,” a voice chimed beside you.

you turned sluggishly, eyes landing on a woman with a bunny smile and a glint in her eyes.

“you don’t know the half of it,” you muttered.

she extended a hand, her confidence cutting through the haze. “nayeon.”

you blinked at her hand, then shook it half-heartedly. “nice to meet you, nayeon.”

“your turn,” she said, leaning on the counter. “what’s your name?”

you hesitated, the weight of the question heavier than it should’ve been. finally, you gave it, your voice quiet.

“so,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, “what’s got you looking like the world’s most tragic main character?”

you barked a laugh, hollow and bitter. “life. that’s all.”

“well, lucky for you,” she said with a playful grin, “i’m excellent at making people forget their problems.”

her words hung in the air, an unspoken offer. and for a moment, just a moment, you considered it.

but then you saw her—mina, not here, but in your mind. the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t watching. the way she whispered your name like it was something sacred. and then the memory twisted, her face replaced by that night. her betrayal. her lies.

“thanks,” you said, your voice cracking, “but no.”

“no?” nayeon echoed, clearly surprised.

“i have a wife,” you said, and the words felt like a knife to your chest. “even if she doesn’t deserve it, i made a vow.”

nayeon’s smile faltered, and she nodded slowly. “you’re a good one,” she said softly. “even when it hurts.”

"for better, for worse" when she left, the silence was deafening.

“you’re a goddamn mess,” a familiar voice broke through, sharp and cutting.

you didn’t need to look to know who it was. “go away, sana.”

“not a chance,” she said, sliding onto the stool beside you. “do you have any idea how many times i’ve had to drag your sorry ass out of here?”

“too many?” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“exactly,” she snapped.

you sighed, the weight of her words crushing you. “what do you want me to say, sana? that i’m fine? because i’m not.”

“i don’t want you to say anything,” she said, her voice softer now. “i just want you to stop destroying yourself.”

you laughed bitterly. “you don’t get it. you don’t know what it feels like to love someone so much it physically hurts. to have that love shattered.”

“stop talking nonsense,” she said, her tone steady. “i do know what it looks like when someone’s drowning.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“come on,” she said, standing and offering you her hand. “let’s get you out of here.”

you stared at her hand, your vision blurring. and for the first time in a long time, you let someone pull you out of the darkness.

outside, the night air was cold and biting, but it felt almost cleansing.

“you don’t have to do this,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“do what?” she asked, glancing at you.

“be the one to save me.”

she stopped walking, turning to face you. “i’m not trying to save you,” she said quietly. “i’m just trying to remind you that you’re worth saving.”

"doesn't make sense." you mumble sassily as you let her dragged you chuckling slightly at her offended expression.

but as her words sank in, you felt something shift—just a little, but enough to make you believe it might be true— but, ofcourse you're too stubborn.

-----

the office was too quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside, muffled by the walls of glass that once made her feel untouchable. myoui mina sat in the dim light of her desk lamp, her hands trembling as she stared at the photograph in her hands. your smile, so bright and genuine, next to hers, a practiced elegance she could barely recognize now. and in the corner, hiro, beaming in a way only innocence could bring.

the frame was cracked, the glass splintered across your face. she hadn’t meant to drop it, but now it felt fitting. she set it down gently, her fingertips lingering on the jagged edge of the frame.

the myoui name had always stood for power, poise, and perfection. mina embodied it effortlessly—every step, every glance calculated, every word weighed with precision. she was untouchable, a pillar of composure even under the harshest scrutiny.

but tonight, myoui mina was crumbling.

“i ruined it,” she whispered, her voice raw. it wasn’t just a statement; it was a confession, one she’d been too proud to make aloud until now.

her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the memory clawed its way back to her. she hated bambam for pushing her, for planting the seed of insecurity she thought she’d outgrown. his words still echoed in her mind from that night—dripping with something she mistook for comfort, laced with just enough poison to make her falter.

"you deserve better than this," he had said, his hand brushing against hers. "they're way too busy with work, what if they have someone else too?"

she hated herself more for listening, for letting his words crawl under her skin and fester until they became louder than your love.

her fist slammed against the desk, papers scattering. “stupid,” she spat, the word aimed at herself. “so fucking stupid.”

her sobs started low, breaking through the practiced calm she always carried. she glance at the picture frame reaching for it as she slid off the chair, her knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. her hands clutched the picture frame at her chest, as if she could tear out the guilt that was choking her.

she sat on the cold floor of her office, the world she had meticulously built feeling like it was closing in on her. her pristine dress, usually a symbol of her unshakable authority, was rumpled, stained with tears. her hair, always styled to perfection, clung to her damp face.

"you loved me," she cried, her voice cracking. "you loved me, and i... i threw it away. for what? for what?"

the room spun, the weight of her actions crushing her. she thought of your face, the way it looked the last time you saw her—betrayed, disappointed, as if the very sight of her was a burden. she had done that. myoui mina— the epitome of coldness had turned her warm love into resentment, warmth into coldness.

“why did i listen to him?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "why wasn’t i enough?"

she tried to steady herself, but the weight of it all pressed her back down. she clutched the frame to her chest, the broken glass cutting into her palm. the pain was sharp, and droplets of blood started to drip down her hand, but it was nothing compared to the ache that consumed her.

she had been the picture of grace, of strength. yet here she was, on the floor, pleading to a god she didn’t even believe in.

“please,” she cried, her voice hoarse. “please... let me fix this. i’ll do anything. anything.”

she crawled to the edge of her desk, her bloody fingers fumbling for her phone. the screen lit up, your picture staring back at her. she dialed a number she hadn’t used in years, her voice shaking as the call connected.

"it’s me," she said, barely above a whisper.

"i need you to... take care of something. i don't care how. i'll give you that damn company if you want to."

-----

it was late, and the silence of the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional clink of ice in sana’s glass. she sat across from you, her playful demeanor dulled to something sharper, something simmering beneath the surface. you were frustrated, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice, and sana—sana of all people—was here trying to tell you how to feel.

“you wouldn’t understand,” you snapped, pacing the room. “you don’t know what it’s like.”

she stiffened, her lips thinning as her grip tightened on the glass. “don’t i?” she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—hurt, maybe.

you glanced at her, frowning. sana rarely looked anything other than confident, but now her eyes were glassy, her jaw tight.

“remember when i resented you?” she asked, the words coming out clipped, like they were dragged from some deep, hidden place.

you blinked, confused. “yeah, i remember. you never said why, though.”

she laughed bitterly, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. “because i didn’t want to admit it. not to myself, and definitely not to you.”

“admit what?”

her gaze met yours, steady and unflinching now. “that i liked bambam. and bambam—he liked mina.”

the words hit like a small crack in the foundation of your understanding. “...what?”

sana leaned back, crossing her arms. “since we were kids. he was always looking at her like she hung the moon, and she—” her voice broke slightly before she caught herself. “she treated him like he was her little brother. never gave him a chance. but that didn’t matter to him. and i was always in her shadow.”

“why resent me, then?” you asked, still grappling with the revelation. “i couldn’t control that.”

she hesitated, her bravado faltering. “because i thought—i thought you’d be just like her. like you’d walk in, marry her, and look down on me too. like you’d make everything worse.”

you stared at her, the sharp edges of your frustration softening as you watched her struggle to keep her composure. “sana...”

“i know—,” she interrupted, her voice softening. “back then, i was insecure. jealous. i was convinced you were going to ruin everything just by existing.”

you let out a dry laugh, running a hand through your hair. “sana, if i could’ve ruined everything by existing, i’d have done it years ago.”

she snorted despite herself, the tension breaking slightly. “okay, fair. but still... i hated you for all the wrong reasons. and when bambam and mina—when i saw that video... it felt like it was happening all over again.”

you looked at her, and for the first time, you didn’t see the bright, confident sana everyone else saw. you saw someone who’d been carrying a weight for far too long.

“i get it now,” you said quietly. “you don’t hate me. you hated what i made you feel about yourself.”

she nodded, her expression unreadable. “yeah. and i hated how easy it was for you to just... fit in. like you belonged here more than i ever did.”

“sana,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “you belong here. more than i do.”

she blinked, startled by your honesty. “you’re just saying that because you feel bad.”

“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” you replied, managing a faint smile. “and because if you don’t, who’s going to annoy me into staying sane?”

she finally laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness in the air. “you’re such a sap when you’re exhausted.”

“and you’re still annoying,” you shot back, but there was no bite to it.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just sat there, two people who’d been at odds for so long finally finding common ground.

“thanks,” she said quietly, after a long pause. “for not being the person i thought you were.”

you shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “anytime.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. it was almost... peaceful.

-----

the rain batters down relentlessly as mina steps out of her sleek black car, her stilettos sinking slightly into the muddy ground. she’s dressed in a pristine, tailored coat, the sharp lines of her outfit untouched by the disarray she feels inside. her hair, always perfectly styled, now clings to her face, the rain smudging her usually flawless makeup. it’s a picture of elegance—on any other day, she’d look untouchable.

but today, she looks ruined.

her legs feel like lead as she climbs the steps to sana’s door. her chest heaves with the weight of a hundred unspoken words, the cold rain doing nothing to numb the fire of regret burning in her lungs.

she knocks once, twice, and then her fist pounds against the wood, her desperation bleeding through. the polished, composed woman the world knows as myoui mina is nowhere to be found.

when sana opens the door, her breath catches—not because mina is standing there, but because of how she’s standing there. the regal heiress, who has never known hunger, never tasted real rejection, is utterly wrecked. her soaked clothes cling to her trembling frame, the harsh rain accentuating the cracks in her usually impeccable facade.

“sana,” mina rasps, her voice raw and trembling. “please. tell me where they are.”

“what the hell are you doing here?” sana asks, her tone sharp, though her eyes flicker with unease. she’s never seen mina like this—not even close.

mina steps forward, her knees buckling slightly, and without warning, she collapses to the ground. she doesn’t care that the expensive fabric of her coat is now caked in dirt. her head bows low, her hands pressed together like she’s offering her soul.

“i need to see them,” mina whispers, her voice cracking. “please. tell me where they are. i’ll do anything.”

sana flinches. this is not the mina she knows. this is not the woman who moves through life untouchable, who always has the upper hand.

“get up,” sana snaps, trying to steel herself against the flood of emotions threatening to pull her under.

mina shakes her head violently, her wet hair whipping against her face. “no. not until you tell me.”

“you’re making a fool of yourself,” sana says, though her voice wavers. “look at you. this isn’t you.”

“don’t you think i know that?” mina cries, her voice rising as her composure shatters. “do you think i care? i’d give up everything—everything, sana—if it means i can fix this. please, just… just tell me they’re okay. tell me they don’t hate me.”

sana’s lips press into a thin line, her jaw tight. she looks away, unable to bear the sight of mina begging like this.

mina’s knees buckle slightly, but she forces herself to stay upright. “i was scared, sana,” she says, her voice trembling. “i was scared of how much they mattered to me. i thought… i thought if i sabotaged it first, it wouldn’t hurt as much if they ever left. but i was wrong.”

“no shit,” sana mutters, crossing her arms.

“i destroyed everything,” mina continues, tears streaming down her face, indistinguishable from the rain. “but i can’t just give up. i can’t let this be the end.”

sana looks away, her lips pressed into a thin line. the sight of mina—always so composed, so untouchable—reduced to this mess of tears and desperation is unsettling.

“why are you even telling me this?” sana asks, her voice softer now, though her expression remains guarded.

mina takes a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. “because you’re the only one who knows where they might be. and because…” she hesitates, her voice breaking. “because i need someone to tell me if it’s even worth trying anymore.”

sana’s jaw clenches, her hands curling into fists. she hates this—hates seeing mina, drenched and desperate, breaking apart in front of her.

“you’re pathetic,” sana says, her tone biting. “you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter your whole life, and now, when it all comes crashing down, you can’t even face it.”

mina nods, her tears falling harder. “i am pathetic,” she whispers. “i know that. but they’re everything to me, sana. they’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel…” she trails off, struggling to find the words. “like i could be more than what people expect me to be.”

sana exhales slowly, her expression softening despite herself. “they loved you, mina,” she says quietly. “probably more than you deserved. and you threw that away.”

mina lets out a broken sob, sinking to her knees on the wet porch. her hands press against the ground, her head bowed as she cries. “i know,” she whispers. “but please… please… just tell me where they are.”

sana hesitates, her heart twisting at the sight. this wasn’t the mina she knew—the cold, calculating heiress. this was someone raw and human, stripped of all pretense.

“even if i did,” sana says softly, her voice laced with sorrow, “what makes you think they’d want to see you like this?”

mina looks up at her, her face a portrait of anguish. “i don’t know,” she admits. “but i have to try. because if i don’t…” her voice cracks, and she presses a hand to her chest. “i’ll never forgive myself.”

sana stares at her, arms crossed tightly, her face a mask of disbelief and guarded pity. “you think crying in the rain is going to fix this? you think they’ll just forget what you did?”

mina shakes her head violently, droplets flying from her soaked hair. “no,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the rain. “i don’t expect forgiveness. i don’t… i don’t deserve it.” her voice breaks, her shoulders trembling as she forces herself to continue. “but i need them to know… it wasn’t because i didn’t love them.”

sana’s expression hardens. “and that makes it better? what were you thinking, mina? how could you do something like that to someone who gave you everything?”

mina raises her head, her tear-streaked face a mixture of anguish and raw vulnerability. “i was scared,” she admits, her voice shaking. “i didn’t know how to love them the way they deserved. i didn’t know how to let myself be loved. do you know what it’s like to grow up in a world where every connection is transactional? where every ‘i love you’ comes with strings attached?”

sana’s jaw tightens, her silence an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth in mina’s words.

“they were different,” mina continues, her voice rising with desperation. “they saw me, not my name, not my title. just… me. and that terrified me. because if they left—if i ever lost them—it would destroy me.”

she presses a hand to her chest, the pain almost suffocating. “so i did what i thought i had to do. i distanced myself. i… i made a mistake, a horrible, unforgivable mistake, because i thought it would hurt less if they hated me first. but it doesn’t. it doesn’t hurt less, sana. it hurts more than i ever thought possible.”

sana looks away, her throat tight as she struggles to hold onto her anger. “you say all this now, but what about then? what about when you made that choice?”

mina bows her head, her tears falling freely. “i wasn’t thinking. i was selfish and scared and so, so stupid. i didn’t think about what it would do to them, to us. all i could think about was how much it would hurt if i let myself love them completely and they left me.”

her voice breaks, and she collapses further onto the ground, her hands gripping the wet earth. “but they didn’t leave, sana. they stayed. they gave me everything. and now… now i’ve lost the one thing that made me feel alive, and it’s my fault. it’s all my fault.”

sana’s chest tightens at the sight of mina—the composed, untouchable heiress—reduced to this trembling, broken figure. this wasn’t the mina she knew. this was someone raw and desperate, someone who had finally realized the weight of her own actions.

“you’re a mess,” sana says quietly, her voice tinged with both anger and pity. “you always thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? but look at you now. you’ve destroyed yourself for them.”

mina nods, her sobs choking her words. “i have,” she whispers. “and i’d do it a thousand times over if it meant they’d hear me, if it meant they’d give me a chance to make this right.”

sana sighs, running a hand through her hair. “you can’t just beg your way out of this, mina. they’re not some business deal you can negotiate. this is their heart, their trust. and you shattered it.”

“i know,” mina cries. “i know i can’t fix this overnight. but sana, please… tell me where they are. tell me what to do. i’ll give up everything—my name, my fortune, all of it—if it means i can have them back. i’ll spend the rest of my life proving to them that they’re my everything.”

sana’s hands clench into fists, her own emotions warring within her. “you want my advice?” she says after a long silence. “start by figuring out why you deserve a second chance. because right now, mina, i don’t think you do.”

sana stares at her for a long moment, her emotions a storm of anger, pity, and something she can’t quite place.

sana doesn’t respond immediately. she turns her head, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down. when she speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“you’re pathetic, mina.”

mina doesn’t argue. she just kneels there, her head bowed, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like a physical force.

“but they love you,” sana adds, almost reluctantly. “for some reason, they love you. so maybe… maybe you still have a chance.”

mina looks up at her, hope flickering in her tear-streaked eyes. “do you think so?” she whispers.

“don’t ask me,” sana says, turning away. “ask them.”

with that, sana steps back and closes the door, leaving mina alone in the rain.

mina collapses completely, her forehead pressing against the cold, wet ground. her sobs echo into the storm, a haunting sound of grief and regret. this wasn’t just about losing you—it was about losing the one chance she had at being more than the hollow shell her upbringing had created. and it was her fault. all her fault.

-----

the buzz of your phone stirred you from a restless sleep. you squinted at the clock on your nightstand—2:34 a.m.—and groaned. dragging your hand across your face, you grabbed the phone, your voice heavy with fatigue.

"who is it?"

a small, hesitant voice came through. "it's me."

you froze, the weariness in your bones suddenly eclipsed by a familiar ache. "mina?"

"yeah," she murmured, almost like she didn’t expect you to pick up. "sorry for calling so late. i know you’re... probably tired."

"what do you want?" you asked, your voice flat, as you sank back into the bed.

there was a pause, and for a moment you thought she’d hung up. then, softly, she said, "we’re going back to myoui town. it’s my mom’s birthday next week."

you rubbed your temples, exhaling slowly. "okay?"

"hiro’s been crying," she continued, her words gentle, deliberate. "he misses you, but i thought it’d be nice for him. and for my mom. she... she really missed you too, you know."

"yeah, well," you said, cutting her off, "tell her that that maybe she shouldn't."

"that’s not—," she said quickly, her voice breaking slightly. "you’ve always been good to us of course she will..." her words trailed off, and the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on your chest.

"why are you telling me this, mina?" you asked, shifting under the covers. "you don’t need my permission to go."

"i know," she said softly. "but i thought you’d want to know. about hiro, at least. and..." she hesitated, her voice trembling. "i just wanted to check on you."

"i’m fine," you said, though the exhaustion in your voice betrayed you.

"are you?" she asked, the regret heavy in her tone. "i know i’m the last person you want to hear from, but i worry about you. i—" she stopped, taking a shaky breath. "i can’t stop thinking about... you."

you closed your eyes, the familiar ache creeping back in. "don’t do this right now, mina."

"i’m sorry," she whispered. "i just... i wanted you to know. and i wanted to say thank you. for picking up. for still being good to hiro, even when you hate me."

you stayed quiet, too tired to argue, too drained to tell her how wrong she was. you didn’t hate her—not entirely. but you couldn’t forgive her either. not yet.

"i hope you’re okay," she said after a moment, her voice so small it made your chest tighten. "i hope... one day, we’ll be okay."

"i—" the words caught in your throat, and you clenched your jaw, swallowing hard. you didn’t know what you wanted to say, or if you even had the right to say anything at all.

you can hear hiro’s laughter echo faintly through the phone, and you closed your eyes, the sound twisting the knife deeper. you could picture him there, carefree and happy, unaware of the mess surrounding him.

"take care of him," you said finally, your voice strained. "just... make sure he’s okay."

"i always do," mina replied, and there was a weight to her words that made you ache even more.

the line went quiet after that, neither of you willing to hang up but both too drained to say anything else. eventually, you ended the call, dropping the phone onto the other side of the bed and burying your face in your pillow.

the thought of them leaving—of her leaving—was a sharp reminder of just how much had slipped through your fingers. and yet, all you could do was sit there, alone in the darkness, trying to convince yourself that it didn’t matter.

but it did. fuck, it did.

-----

mina adjusted hiro’s jacket for the third time, her fingers tugging gently at the fabric to make sure it fit snugly against the chill in the air. the little boy was more interested in the blossoms overhead, his tiny hands reaching skyward as they walked through the old town.

“you like that, hm?” she murmured, her voice soft, almost lost in the gentle breeze. hiro giggled in response, his face lighting up with pure delight.

she smiled, despite herself.

it was quieter here than in the city, the hum of life replaced with the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of a bell in the distance. her parents had always said this place felt timeless, and for the first time, mina felt it too.

but that weight in her chest—the one that had settled there ever since you’d stopped coming home—it hadn’t eased.

hiro babbled something incoherent, his chubby little hand pointing toward a cluster of vibrant pink blossoms hanging low on a branch. mina crouched down, lifting him in her arms to bring him closer.

“careful,” she said, her tone laced with a tenderness that had become second nature with him. he grabbed at a petal, his grip clumsy but enthusiastic.

she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket but ignored it for now. instead, she reached for the camera app, snapping a picture of hiro against the backdrop of the blossoms.

he looked so much like you in moments like this.

her heart clenched as she stared at the screen.

after a moment’s hesitation, she opened your chat. the thread was mostly one-sided these days—updates on hiro, little notes about his milestones, reminders that she was trying.

trying to keep you tethered. trying to remind you there was still a place for you here.

she attached the photo and typed:

“hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this.”

her thumb hovered over the send button. for a split second, she thought about deleting it. but she hit send before she could think too hard.

hiro wriggled in her arms, and she adjusted her grip, letting him rest his head against her shoulder. she started walking again, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path.

her phone buzzed, and she fumbled to unlock it, her breath hitching when she saw your reply.

“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…”

her heart skipped, her thumb scrolling slowly.

“miss you.”

she froze.

the words blurred slightly as her eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t want to name.

you miss me? after everything? after i broke us?

hiro babbled again, drawing her out of her spiraling thoughts. she kissed the top of his head, her lips brushing against his soft hair.

with trembling fingers, she replied:

“we miss you too.”

it felt like a small step.

a tentative bridge.

her chest ached as she added another message:

“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”

she slipped her phone back into her pocket, her gaze lifting to the blossoms again. they were beautiful, fleeting.

please come back to us, she thought, her arms tightening protectively around hiro.

as they reached the edge of the path, she glanced at her phone once more, hoping, praying.

when your reply came, she exhaled shakily.

heavily disappointed she let herself move slowly glancing at hiro sadly while pointing at some falling leaves seeing hiro babble excitedly made her heart clench and she let herself drown in her thoughts.

-----

you sit at your desk, fingers aimlessly scrolling through the same set of documents you’ve been staring at for hours. the work isn’t hard, but the focus? yeah, that’s another story.

your eyes flicker to the family photo on the corner of your desk. it’s the one mina insisted on framing—a candid shot of the three of you during a rare moment of peace. hiro’s baby grin, your awkward smile, mina’s soft, rare laugh.

your chest tightens.

a soft buzz on your phone pulls your attention. it’s a picture from mina: her holding hiro in her arms, standing against a backdrop of vibrant cherry blossoms. hiro’s chubby little hand is reaching for a petal, his face lit up with curiosity. she’s smiling—soft, maternal, and glowing.

"hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this."

you stare at the screen longer than you mean to. a knot of emotions you don’t quite know how to unravel builds in your chest—annoyance, longing, maybe even something bordering on desperation.

you set the phone down, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. maybe it’s the way she looks so damn serene in that picture, like she hasn’t turned your world upside down a hundred times over.

or maybe it’s because it’s been too long. too long since you’ve felt her touch, heard her laugh, even fought with her properly.

before you realize it, your thumbs are moving.

“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…” you hesitate, then type, “beautiful.”

a pause. delete. rewrite.

“miss you.”

short, simple, but it feels like ripping your chest open. you hit send before you can second-guess it.

and the second it’s gone, you’re frozen.

what the hell did you just do?

you stare at your phone like it’s going to explode, the words glaring back at you as if mocking your moment of vulnerability. for a split second, you think about chucking the damn thing across the room, but then—what if she replies?

your hands are clammy, your heart’s racing, and suddenly your office feels ten degrees hotter. you pace back and forth, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to do anything to untangle the mess you’ve made in your head.

“what is wrong with me?” you mutter under your breath. “am i drunk? i’m at work! i haven’t even had a drink!”

you stop mid-step, gripping the back of your chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your mind replays the text over and over, each loop digging deeper into your pride. miss you.

the audacity. the weakness.

you glance at the framed photo on your desk—the one of mina holding hiro on her hip, the both of them laughing under the sunlight. your chest tightens, and you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“this is so stupid,” you hiss to no one in particular. “she’s probably laughing right now. probably showing her mom, ‘look at this idiot, still hung up on me.’”

but even as you say it, you know it’s not true. mina’s not like that. or, at least, she wasn’t.

you sit down heavily in your chair, glaring at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you.

god, why did i have to send that? why couldn’t i just say… nice blossoms? or cute kid? or nothing at all?

your phone buzzes, and you nearly fall out of your chair scrambling to grab it.

the notification lights up the screen:

“we miss you too.”

your breath catches.

it’s not much. not an apology, not an explanation, not even a promise. but it’s enough to make your shoulders sag, the knot in your chest loosening just a little.

you sit there for a moment, just staring at the message, letting it sink in.

and then another message pops up.

“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”

you blink, reading it twice, three times, like the words are in a language you’re still trying to learn.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard.

“tell her advance happy birthday;”

you hit send, and this time, there’s no panic.

no pacing, no muttering, no spiraling.

just… quiet.

you sit back, exhaling slowly, staring at the photo again. maybe you’re weak for her. maybe you always will be.

you set the phone down and stare at the photo again. your thumb rubs over the edge of the frame absentmindedly.

you’d go.

maybe it’s for hiro. maybe it’s for mina. maybe, just maybe, it’s for yourself.

-----

the traditional myoui family estate in japan was alive with celebration, the grand hall filled with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of polite laughter. mina stood near the entrance, perfectly poised as always, though her hands fidgeted slightly—a rare display of unease for someone so collected.

her mother’s sharp voice broke through her thoughts. “mina, where is your spouse? it’s my birthday, and yet they’re nowhere to be found.”

mina straightened her posture, masking her discomfort. “they’re busy with work,” she began, her tone measured but unconvincing. “something urgent came up—”

“work?” mrs. myoui interrupted, her lips pressing into a thin line. “on a day like this? unacceptable. i don’t understand? do they think work is more important than my birthday?"

before mina could stammer out another excuse, the double doors to the hall swung open, stealing everyone’s attention.

“apologies for the delay,” you announced, stepping in with a confident stride. a bouquet of lavish flowers in one hand and a beautifully wrapped gift box in the other, your presence immediately commanded the room.

mina’s breath caught, her carefully composed facade momentarily cracking.

“fashionably late as always,” mrs. myoui said, her disapproving tone softened by the glint of amusement in her eyes.

you bowed politely, offering the flowers to her. “only for the most important occasions, mrs. myoui. i hope these can make up for my tardiness.”

she chuckled, accepting the gifts. “you always know how to charm your way out of trouble.”

“it’s a skill i’ve perfected,” you quipped, your voice light. but as your gaze shifted to mina, the warmth in your tone faded, replaced by a distant professionalism. “myoui mina,” you greeted curtly, with a nod that felt colder than the winter breeze.

mina’s jaw tightened, but she forced a smile. “thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

you didn’t respond, turning back to her mother instead. “it’s an honor to celebrate such a special day with your family.”

as the evening wore on, you maintained a polite but distant demeanor, mingling with the guests and exchanging pleasantries. mina, meanwhile, found her attempts to approach you rebuffed at every turn. when she brushed her hand against yours while passing, you didn’t react. when she tried to make small talk about hiro, your answers were clipped and polite, but devoid of warmth.

from across the room, she watched as you charmed her family and the guests, her chest tightening with a mix of regret and longing. every time you glanced her way, it was with a composed indifference that stung more than outright hostility.

it wasn’t until later in the evening, as the festivities quieted down, that mina found herself standing alone near the balcony. she turned when she sensed you approaching, her heart leaping for a brief moment. but your focus wasn’t on her—it was on hiro, who was being carried by one of the family attendants.

you reached out, taking hiro into your arms with practiced ease. “hey, buddy,” you murmured, your voice softening as you cradled him close. mina watched, her throat tightening as she took in the sight of you and hiro together.

when your eyes finally met hers, there was a flicker of something—an unspoken tension, a shared history that neither of you could escape. but just as quickly, you turned your attention back to hiro.

as the evening progressed, the guests began to drift toward the dining hall, leaving mina and you momentarily alone on the balcony. the cool night air brushed against her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver—it was the frigid distance you’d placed between the two of you all evening.

“you’re good with him,” mina said quietly, nodding toward hiro nestled in your arms, his tiny fingers clutching at your shirt as he drifted off to sleep.

you didn’t look at her. instead, you kept your gaze on hiro, gently adjusting the blanket around him. “he’s my son. it’s not exactly a choice.”

the words landed like a slap, and mina’s breath hitched. she took a step closer, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “i didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly. “i just… i wanted to thank you for coming. it means a lot to my family.”

finally, you turned to face her, your expression unreadable but your eyes sharp. “i didn’t come for your family, mina. i came for hiro. let’s not pretend otherwise.”

but it feels like a blatant lie with the way your jaw clenched almost disgusted at yourself for feeding yourself lies.

her composure faltered, and she bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground. “i know i’ve hurt you,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “but i’m trying—”

“trying to what?” you interrupted, your tone cutting but quiet enough not to wake hiro. “fix what you broke? erase what happened? you think showing up with a smile and a few kind words will make everything better?”

she flinched, visibly shrinking under the weight of your words. “i’m not asking you to forgive me overnight,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “but i miss you. i miss us. and i’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “missing someone doesn’t mean much when you’ve already proven how little you cared when it mattered.”

her eyes glistened, and for a moment, she looked utterly vulnerable—a stark contrast to the poised heiress the world knew her as. “that’s not true,” she said, her voice breaking. “you have no idea how much i—”

“don’t,” you said firmly, cutting her off. “don’t stand here and tell me how much you cared while i was the only one crying trying to pick up pieces of myself.”

mina’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes pleading as she stepped closer. “please,” she said, her voice cracking. “that's not— i've also—"

“good night, mina,” you said curtly, brushing past her as you carried hiro inside.

she stayed on the balcony, frozen in place, the weight of your words crushing her. she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it was no use.

as the door clicked shut behind you, mina sank onto the balcony railing, the sound of the distant laughter and celebration inside only amplifying the silence that now surrounded her. she had always been so sure of herself, so in control—but tonight, she felt small, powerless, and utterly lost.

-----

the quiet streets of the traditional japanese town were bathed in soft moonlight, the air carrying the faint scent of blooming wisteria. myoui mina sat on the edge of a wooden bridge, a bottle of sake beside her, her poised demeanor long abandoned. she was disheveled, her elegant blouse slightly wrinkled, her usually sharp eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

in her hand, she held a small daisy, its delicate petals trembling between her fingers.

"they like me," she murmured, plucking a petal and letting it drift down into the stream below. her voice was tinged with mockery, a hollow laugh escaping her lips.

"they like me not." she tore the next petal with more force, the bitterness in her tone cutting through the stillness of the night.

hidden just beyond the bridge, you leaned against the corner of a nearby building, out of sight but close enough to hear every word. you’d stumbled upon her by accident during your aimless walk— aimless? or did you just see her leave the residence and was worried? no— it doesn't matter. you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

mina continued her ritual, her voice growing quieter with each petal. "they like me… they like me not…" her hands trembled, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back the tears threatening to spill.

when she reached the final petal, she stared at it for a long moment.

"they like me," she whispered, her voice cracking. she gave a bitter, humorless laugh, tossing the petal into the water. "as if. they don’t even look at me anymore."

her laughter died, replaced by a shaky breath. "i don’t like them either," she muttered, the lie barely holding together. "i hate them."

she froze, the words hanging in the air like a broken promise. then, as if something deep inside her had shattered, her shoulders began to shake.

"i don't like them," she repeated, her voice breaking completely. "i love them. i love them so much."

her head dropped into her hands, and she began to sob openly, her elegant facade crumbling like a fragile mask. "i love them," she choked out, the admission spilling from her lips like a dam bursting. "and they hate me. they hate me, and i deserve it."

your heart ached at the sight of her, the woman who once seemed untouchable now falling apart before your eyes. you wanted to step forward, to say something, but your feet remained rooted to the ground.

mina’s sobs echoed in the quiet night, her vulnerability cutting through you in a way you hadn’t expected. but instead of approaching, you turned away, your chest tight with an unspoken heaviness.

you walked away slowly, your steps careful and silent, leaving her alone on the bridge. the image of her broken figure stayed with you, etched into your mind, and as much as you tried to push it aside, it lingered, a painful reminder of everything unresolved.

behind you, mina remained on the bridge, her cries fading into the stillness of the night, unaware that you had been there all along.

-----

the morning sun painted the myoui estate in warm hues, the tranquility of the traditional japanese town a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface. you wandered the garden aimlessly, still dressed in your rumpled pajamas, the cool breeze doing little to shake off your lingering exhaustion.

the faint sound of footsteps made you glance up, and there she was—myoui mina, beautiful as ever despite the shadows of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. her gaze locked onto yours, determined, though something fragile lingered behind it.

"we need to talk," she began, her voice even but strained.

you sighed, dragging a hand through your hair. "about what, mina? i don’t have the energy for this."

"we have an interview this afternoon," she said, stepping closer.

that caught you off guard. "an interview? for what? we’re not doing any gala or charity event."

"it’s about us," mina clarified, her words deliberate. "our marriage. how we fell in love."

your brow furrowed, and a humorless laugh escaped your lips. "are you kidding me? mina, we don’t need to answer any of that. it’s useless."

mina squared her shoulders, her voice gaining an edge. "it’s not useless. it’s about keeping your dignity. your name. your reputation."

you stared at her, incredulous. "my dignity?" you snapped, the fatigue giving way to anger. "you want me to sit there and talk about a marriage that doesn’t even exist? why don’t you do it, mina? you’re good at putting on a show."

her expression faltered, but she held her ground. "how can i?" she asked, her voice cracking despite her effort to keep it steady. "it’s for couples. they’ll know something’s wrong if you’re not there."

your frustration boiled over, your voice rising. "then tell them we’re fine! tell them we’re doing great, that we’re more in love than ever!" you stepped closer, your words sharp and cutting. "Lie, mina. You’re good at that too, aren’t you?"

her breath hitched, but she didn’t respond, her eyes searching yours desperately.

you took a step back, shaking your head.

"you’re my wife on paper, mina. not my responsibility."

the words hung in the air like a slap, the finality of them echoing between you. mina stood frozen, her composure cracking.

you didn’t wait for her reply—not that she had one. and as you walked away, the ache in your chest twisted, sharper than ever, because deep down, you knew:

it wasn’t her who had lost everything. it was you.

-----

end of part five.

a/n — i'm so sorry for this shitty chapter bruv it's my birthday and it's like 1:43AM, i've been drinking and i have a throbbing headache. I decided to rush this so i apologize deeply for any wrong doing because frankly i don't even remember what i wrote.

#kpop girls #mina imagines #mina x reader #myoui mina x reader #myoui mina #twice mina #twice sana #angst #cheating #bambam #hirai momo #twice mina x reader #sad shit #kino.

57 notes · View notes

narcjsistx · 2 days ago

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part thirteen

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.9k (2996)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part fourteen!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

The black jacket, elegantly finished with silver stitching, seems to be so tight right now. It's a paradox for you to be anxious about being the center of attention, given that for a good part of your life you've always been on a catwalk; but tonight, with an audience in front of you for the first time since the very first scandal, and the evidence that Gabriel has lied, it's a whole different situation. Since you came home last night, nervous but happy, you haven't had a second to rest: obviously Micheal had heard the audios he found on his chat, and had no qualms about picking you up from work earlier than necessary. It was evidence so important and incriminating that not even he knew if it was true or not, but seeing you so happy after so long was the confirmation that finally the nightmare was in its final stages. And that evidence had to be heard

And so now you're in the dressing room of the most watched and important television network in the country, ready to go on air. You had called some local TV stations saying that, if they wanted, you would make your first TV appearance after the scandal with them. Many had accepted, but you had chosen the biggest and most important one. And so now, agitated, you were about to tell the world the real truth after weeks of suffering, the real Gabriel

"You don't usually wear lipstick. Did they force you?" Kaiser says chuckling, leaning against the wall. You nod rolling your eyes, while you check yourself in the mirror once more "Sort of. They told me if I didn't let them put it on, they'd give me 25 seconds less time" you say, and his laughter gets louder "I don't understand the logic of this, but as long as I can see you with lipstick on, I like it" he says, running a hand through his hair. You raise an eyebrow at his comment, surprised "Does it look good on me or bad?" you ask. With a gentle push he pushes himself away from the wall, walking towards you “You could put dirty rugs on you and I’d be as in love as I am in my letters. Be thankful they put too much makeup on you or I would have kissed you” he says, taking your face in his hands, and you rest your cheek against his palm, a small smile appearing on your red lips "Too bad. Although I don't think they mind that much if I ask the makeup artists to put my lipstick back on" you ask in a suggestive tone, and he nods "You could. But what would you say as an excuse? That you drank too much water and everything was ruined?" he asks, closing the distance between you a bit "I could say that, yes"

It doesn't take much to have his lips on yours, a gesture you've become accustomed to since you returned to Germany. His hands leave your face to rest on your hips, holding you tight without letting you the chance to escape, something you wouldn't do even in your worst dreams. Squeezed between the wall and his body, you end up clinging to him while tightening your arms around his neck, not giving him the chance to move away. Aggressive as he is on the field, his natural habitat, Kaiser seems to go heavy as the kiss becomes more and more needy, his hands move to your lower back. You know what he has in mind when he does that, you know him all too well by now, but doing that here is definitely not an option, at least not before the interview. You regretfully break the kiss, noticing that the lipstick is now all over his lips; you giggle slightly at him in this state, looking down as he looks confused "You don't want to?" he asks, even though he knows the answer would always be yes, but right now it's no "Not now, at least. You've got lipstick on your lips" you say, still giggling "Imagine if Ness or your teammates saw you in this state" you say, and he lets out a sigh "Ness would be simping like usual and the others would be afraid to comment" he says, then runs his thumb over your bottom lip "But if this is the reward for getting dirty, I don't care. We could try on all the lipsticks you have at home, once we're done here" he says, and you nod, looking into his eyes "If you mean it that much, Mihya" you say amused

He holds you tight, but at the same time you can't be completely calm. You're about to do something extremely important for yourself, but who gives you the certainty that everything will go as you think? How do you know if Gabriel hasn't already predicted this step of yours too?

You're afraid. You can't not admit it, it would be lying to yourself. You're afraid of simply seeing all the effort go to pieces, without having a third chance to put everything back together, because if this time it goes badly, the pain will probably be too much. But you have to do it now, in less than twenty minutes you will be on TV in front of the whole Germany. So, other than taking courage on your own and finding comfort in your boyfriend, you can't do anything else. Just wait and see

"Anxious?" Kaiser asks, running his hand up and down your back. You nod, leaning against his chest. "It would be stupid of me to lie. I am and I just want to go home right now" you admit, and he seems to understand. "I know. It's a big thing, but you have to do it. You finally have the chance to send that monster packing for good, and you have to make the most of it. You finally have to show the world that you were never a traitor in the first place" he says, and you can't help but nod again "It's just that it's so important that I'm scared. No one gives me the security that people will believe me, once I tell the truth about the past. I could go back to how I was before I went back to Germany" you admit, then feel his hand stop halfway up your back "It won't all go wrong, you literally have everything to win this time. And then, even if it goes wrong, who cares? This time you don't just have a hotel room to comfort you, you have me in full. And if comforting you means I have to take you with me on my next soccer tour, I'll be more than happy. And if they find out we're in love, I'll be even happier" he says, and you look up at him "If it goes bad, I'm here. If it goes well, I'm here anyway. Stop worrying about sinking if you finally have someone who wants to grab you"

If you could cry now, you would, since it happened the last time you no longer feel ashamed if you do it in front of your boyfriend, but now there is no time to do it. Smile because it is the only thing you can do, because in fact you do not know how to express in words how much you really love this boy. It's not a given to be there for someone, especially when they're at their lowest point of life. But Kaiser wouldn't leave if you were the one at the lowest, and you wouldn't leave if he ever needed help, even if you've had the opportunity to comfort him in the past about his family situation. If this isn't love, the one what you dreamed of as a child, you don't know what it is. And if you had to do it all over again to get the same result, suffer and fall, you would do it without even thinking twice

"Will you watch me?" you say, while he has one hand on the doorknob. He has to go, you'll be on the air soon, it's finally time, your time

"You'll find me in the front row, Schatz"

Sitting on the sofa in the study, the anxiety you had before has completely gone away, leaving you only with a sense of boldness that you have rarely had in your life. You've been on the air for about minutes now, and beyond the usual questions, you still haven't talked about the reason why you're here tonight. The interviewer is polite, nice, quite friendly, and Kaiser is in the studio audience

"So... it's time to get a little more personal. We all know it wasn't an easy time and you even had a break from work before you entered the TraumLaufsteg. What happened, Y/n? Tell us" the woman says, as the camera pans solely towards you. You take a deep breath as you smile nervously, but it's time, finally. It's your time

"You know Ingrid, I think the whole world has a different idea of what happened to me. I don't blame them, I have to be honest, I would also have an opinion on such an interesting situation that was handled so badly by the media" you say, convinced "But it was a really bad time for me, I think everyone knows that. I changed house, country, fashion agency and above all I no longer have the same person by my side who remained by my side for three consecutive years. But now I only have to say that I should have made these changes a long time ago, a very long time ago" you say smiling, and the interviewer is surprised "What do you mean? Can you tell us better? You know, the whole world now sees you as the woman who betrayed the genius of Italian fashion" she says, and you nod "For many, if not for all, I am as you described me. But there is a small difference that only Gabriel and I know the truth, that now we are no longer a couple, as he continues to make people believe. I left Gabriel after three years because enduring yet another of dozens of betrayals had led me to a situation of continuous discomfort that forced me, fortunately I would say, to leave him" you say, and the studio audience and the interviewer burst into a surprised murmur. Kaiser smiles satisfied, while everyone doesn't seem to believe the words they just heard from you, the one who actually betrayed him in the man's story

"Cheating? Y/n, can you tell us more?" the woman says, and you nod happily "Of course. As you know, this is my first TV appearance, at least wanted and not forced, that I'm doing after the scandal. I've kept many things inside, things that have destroyed me to the point of exhaustion, things that I wouldn't wish even at my worst enemy. But now I want to tell everything and show the truth, because unlike Gabriel, I don't just talk, I also demonstrate. Please pay attention" you say, and your phone comes out of your pocket

"Gabriel started cheating on me two years ago. The first was the beginning of a long list of women who work in the same field as me, others who aren't in the fashion world and others whose names I don't even know, but I know they exist. I've always kept quiet about this subject, because I always thought that if he came home to me he didn't really love these women. It hurt me to think about it, but he kept me going" you say, and show some photos of the women Gabriel has cheated on you with over the years "I also suffered psychological violence. I was manipulated to the point of not even being able to see my best friend, Michael Kaiser, who has always been a point of reference for me. Gabriel also forced me many times to do things I didn't want to, like fashion shows with clothes I didn't feel comfortable in. After all, I was his star model, right?" you say

"I never had the courage to say anything against Gabriel, because I seriously loved him. So, how could I ever cheat on him? Think about it. He painted me as a monster because he knew he had the power to do it. But maybe I have to thank him, it's thanks to him that I understood that I couldn't continue to go on like this. So I took everything and came back here to Germany, a place that has had my heart for years. I thought I could start something different here, something that would finally bring me back to being well, but I didn't know that the second part of my nightmare was about to begin. When I thought about starting over, I just realized that my past was coming with me. I discovered things about Gabriel that I didn't even think were humanly possible, and yet I saw them before my eyes. Can I have a microphone? I have to play some audios" you say, and before you finish the sentence you already have your microphone in your hands. The recordings begin and slowly everyone becomes aware of what you have heard, of Gabriel and of Ursula. After eight minutes of recording, the studio is completely silent, while you clear your throat "This is why I asked to finally speak in front of everyone. I've had this thought for a long time, but I never had the courage to do it. And yet here I am, serving you the truth on a silver platter, and I should thank someone who is here, since it was he who gave me the courage to do so. Believe what you want, it is not my goal to change your opinion, but I ask you only to think about it, and not to make accusations that are hard to handle. I only speak when I have proof, unlike someone"

Silence. Pure silence. The studio audience stares at you in shock, and you think that more or less the same is true for those watching from their homes. Then a round of applause, another, until everyone ends up applauding for you, including the interviewer. And it is from this gesture that you understand that now it is seriously all over, that now you can really start to be happy. People believe you. People who were previously confused or against you finally know the truth. The truth, so hidden by Gabriel, is finally given to the public

"Wow. Just wow" the woman says, still paralyzed "That's really something to show. You must be so scared, and yet you did it. You have courage, you really have a lot of it" he says "And yet, in your speech you mentioned someone. Would you like to tell us about it?" he says, and you smile spontaneously "I would love to"

For a few seconds you turn to Micheal, looking at each other with a look that only the two of you can understand "This someone is the boy I've known since I was 16, famous as well as unpleasant, but he has a heart of gold if you know how to handle it. He's the point of reference I've had as a girl and that I will have for a long time, at least until the day I die. Everyone knows who I'm talking about, our relationship has been talked about since we were still two teenangers. He is someone who gave me so much courage in moments when I didn't know what else to do but let myself sink, and in other moments when I just needed support he was there. Micheal Kaiser, the pearl of Bastard Munchen, the one everyone loves and hates at the same time, the one many would kill themselves for to spend an hour with, is my point of reference. Kaiser Micheal is my... he's my best friend. Forever" you say, even if the last sentence leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth: you are much more than best friends, he is your soulmate, he is your lovely boyfriend. But the world, you believe, is not ready for this yet

The audience erupts into yet another round of applause, louder and more vigorous. Kaiser applauds, and you know he's thinking the same thing you're thinking. You would seriously like to tell the truth, you know he would too, but it's not the right time yet, at least not now and here

"It's nice to know that someone helped you. It's also nice to know what he means to you, since you just confirmed that you are best friends, practically the same status for ten years now. By doing so, you confirmed that the speculation of a possible romantic relationship between the two of you is not ongoing, right?" says the woman, and you are seriously in trouble

You want to say it, but not now

Kaiser wants to say it, but he'll wait for you

"Think of us as you like. Best friends? Couple? Whatever you want, we accept everything" you say, and for the umpteenth time the audience erupts in a scream of amazement. Michael, amused, glances at you, and you can't help but smile at him as if nothing had happened. You want to compromise, and something like this seemed like the perfect option for both

In the immense room of the television studio, you finally feel seriously free. Free to speak, to no longer be afraid, to go back to being the same person you have always been. Free to finally love Kaiser in a way he deserves. For the first time in your life, you seriously believe you've passed Gabriel, passed by kilometers ahead

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan ; @sabrina-senpai ; @vannilaa16 ; @kaz-0e ; @tamashithe2nd ; @x3nafix (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

34 notes · View notes

peachversace · 4 hours ago

Text

[ sfw ] — fluff ; gojo satoru x reader

You’re crouched in the soft, rich earth, planting forget-me-nots under the midday sun. The meadow is quiet except for the occasional whisper of the wind through the tall grass and the steady rhythm of your hands working the soil. There’s a strange peace here in the afterlife—a lightness that still feels foreign to Satoru. He steps outside, his tall frame casting a shadow over you, his sharp blue eyes catching on your figure.

For a man who has always been larger than life, the afterlife itself should feel small. And yet, Satoru can’t seem to get used to this serenity, this weightlessness. For so long, he was the strongest, the indomitable force, the invincible protector. Now, he’s just… Satoru. Your Satoru. Your Cyclops, your Daredevil, your Wannabe Kakashi. That thought alone sends a ripple through his chest—a pang of something tender and indescribable.

You look up at him, catching his gaze, and your lips curve into a smile that could rival the sun. Satoru feels his heart stutter, a sensation he’s still not used to, and then he grins, letting his playful nature take over.

“Professor X,” he drawls, his voice teasing and warm, “you’re gonna ruin your dress. It’d be a real shame if it got, y’know, taken off so soon.”

Your eyes narrow, but there’s a spark of amusement behind them as you shoot back, “Shut up, Daredevil. As if you’re not dying for it.”

He laughs, a rich, carefree sound that blends perfectly with the breeze, and crouches down beside you, his long legs folding awkwardly. “Looks good,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, filled with a quiet sincerity that only you get to hear. His fingers brush against your golden necklace, the one he gave you in the life before this one. His thumb grazes the turquoise pendant that dangles from the chain.

He remembers every word you said when he gave it to you:

“Well, the color gold reminded me of how you treat me. You treat me like I’m gold, always keeping me close and being nice to me, and uh… And the blue reminded me of your eyes. I remember that I once saw on the internet that turquoise is the December birthstone and you’re born in December, so… I don’t know. I loved it, I guess. Having a piece of you beside me.”

Those words had wrapped around his heart like a vice then, and now they linger, still potent, still sacred. He fingers the pendant as if it holds the essence of that memory, as if it’s the link between your shared past and this perfect present.

The softness of the moment makes something in him ache, in the best way. He feels weightless but grounded, like you’re some divine being tethering him to a world he never wants to leave. He leans in closer, the scent of the earth and your presence filling his senses.

You glance at him, your hands still working the soil, and your lips curve into that familiar, knowing smile. “Of course they do. They remind me of you,” you say simply, your voice steady and warm, like a melody only he gets to hear.

Satoru’s mind flashes back to something you told him in your former life, about the very flowers you’re planting now:

“Well, they’re called forget-me-nots because I hope you cherish them and don’t forget about me. They symbolize luck and protection. And uhm, this color blue reminds me of your eyes. I think it’s handsome and, uh, lovely.”

His throat tightens slightly at the memory. Even then, you’d seen him as more than just ‘the strongest.’ You’d seen Satoru—the man beneath the limitless power. And now, in this new life, you see him even more clearly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering against your skin. The gesture makes you pause for a moment, leaning into his touch instinctively.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice so soft it feels like a prayer.

His grin is boyish and teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in his eyes as he replies, “I love you too, my sweet little angel honey bun.”

You pull back slightly, rolling your eyes with a huff, though your smile betrays your amusement. “Barf. You know I hate those pet names.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “You hate a lot of things, Gandalf, but you still stick with me.”

You shake your head, planting another flower as you retort, “I guess I do, Cyclops.”

The banter flows so naturally between you, lighthearted and easy, but beneath it is an unshakable foundation. You finish planting the forget-me-nots, brushing dirt from your hands, and before you can rise, Satoru pulls you toward him for a kiss.

It’s unhurried, tender, and yet it holds all the passion he has for you. When you pull away, you see it in his expression—the way his eyes soften, the way his grin curves into something more genuine.

Yeah, he thinks, this is it. This is the life he never dared to dream of. You’re his Professor X, his Gandalf, his Might Guy. His dear and most beloved.

You’re his, and he’s yours. And nothing else in any world matters.

#[heaven in your eyes]#esta’s drabble corner :p #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #OOOOOOO satoru i missed u sm #and i missed heaven in your eyes reader and him

25 notes · View notes

legalmente-loca · 1 day ago

Text

Innocence

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Angel!Reader

Summary: Sam found something good and innocent in his dark life... Now he wants to destroy it, but not in a bad way.

Word Count: 2,327

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, dirty talk, established relationship, corrupción kink

Innocent, cute, tender, angelic…

That was you. An angel, not just as a personality, but a real angel. But you weren't a warrior or a soldier. You were an angel who existed to entertain others with your harp. Your melodious music that inspired every other angel to fight for their father and brothers and sisters.

Sam met you along with Castiel. It was noticeable that you didn't even know why you were there. This wasn't your job. Fighting. That was your brothers and sisters. When he first saw you, he almost melted from your beauty. Your tender confused look and your pity when Castiel called him what he called him. You were sweet, more than the other angels. You were always on his side and even played him some of your music. Dean expressed that you were like he had imagined angels to be, the typical stereotype of them; Sweet, fair, playing their music and with an invisible heavenly halo surrounding them.

So… Why did he want to ruin you so badly?

Sam thought that would be a more thing from his brother. Flirting with you at every opportunity to get you into his bed and show you how a human could ruin something as beautiful and innocent as you. But to his surprise, Dean showed no interest in you. And that was because he noticed his little brother's attraction to the sweet angel. If anyone were to ask Dean about it, he would say that after a life full of pain and suffering, a life like his little brother's, finding something as beautiful and innocent would be the same as wanting to destroy it.

When Sam started flirting with you, your shy look and your small smile, he just knew he had to have you. Have you in a way that he knew no one had ever had you before.

You started dating and every kiss was better than the last. You didn’t really know how to give them, but don’t worry, he would gladly teach you.

You two were lying on your side on the couch watching a movie. A blanket covered the two of you and he was behind you, his thumb caressing your hip where your cute shirt had ridden up a little, touching your skin. Your gaze rested on the TV and he looked over at you with a smile. You looked so cute, your concentration on the movie, your breathing calm, almost like you were asleep. Sam couldn’t help but slowly move his hand up, tucking it under your shirt.

The small gasp you let out caused Sam’s pants to get tighter. Your eyes looked down at his hand before raising it to him.

“What are you doing?” Your small voice came through, looking at him in confusion.

“Jus’ touching you, love.” He murmured, placing a kiss on your hair. “You know how much I love the feel of your skin.”

“Oh…” Your small nod made Sam’s chest sink.

He continued to run his hand over your skin until it spread across your entire stomach. Sam had big, strong hands. Sometimes you watched them and ran your small fingers over them. And this time was no different. You ran your fingers over his hand, feeling every vein, up his arm and jaw. You looked into his eyes and lowered your gaze to his lips. Sam knew you would never initiate a kiss, you never did. So he was the one who leaned in and kissed you softly.

You followed the kiss, your hand caressing his cheek. Sam couldn't believe how soft your lips were, how red he could make them. He ran the tip of his tongue over them and you parted them, his tongue taking advantage and invading your mouth. The movie was beginning to fade away, just a background noise that filled the air. His hand on your stomach continued to rise and stopped below one of your breasts. He had never touched you beyond that, your shyness never allowed it.

A moan escaped you as he nibbled on your bottom lip and pulled away from the kiss, your mouths connected by a thread of saliva.

“Oh, baby, you can’t make sounds like that…” He ran his finger along your bottom lip. “And expect me not to react.”

You placed a kiss on his finger as you continued to look into his eyes. You moved your hand down his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Baby…”

“What?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why?”

Sam opened his eyes again and placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Because I can’t control how my body reacts.”

And then you felt it. His bulge against the back of your thigh, almost your ass. He was firm against you.

“Oh…” That little word again coming out of your mouth. “So… What if… I do want to continue?” You looked away as you asked that question.

Sam was afraid you’d notice how his face lit up at your words. To give him that kind of permission, a permission he would use deeply, as deep as he wanted to be inside you.

He moved his hand to your chin, bringing your gaze back to his.

“Only if you want, baby.”

“Yes… I do.”

Sam suppressed a smile and instead kissed you again, the softness of the beginning rising in tone.

“Stop me anytime if you want.” He murmured against your lips before crushing them against yours again.

You moaned lowly into his mouth, Sam swallowing every sound. He felt like you were taking him to heaven itself. That you had held him tight and lifted him up to where you lived, But to do the most incorrect things, more appropriate for hell than heaven..

Sam continued kissing you and moved his hand up to your breast. You weren’t wearing a bra, you’d never done it in heaven, why would you do it on earth? He could feel your softness from the start and let out a growl, separating his mouth from yours.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He lifted your shirt up just enough to uncover your breasts. They were soft, perfect, and he wanted to bite them until they were red and had teeth marks on them. He leaned over your chest and took one breast into his mouth, licking and nibbling at your skin. The small sounds that came out of your mouth were like a melodious tune to his ears.

He nibbled on your nub and took it between his teeth, tugging on it lightly, causing you to let out a gasp and bring a hand to his hair.

“So pretty…” He murmured, letting go of your breast and moving to the other.

You moaned and gently tugged on his hair, Sam letting out a groan and leaving your breast red and with teeth marks, just like he wanted.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered.

He smiled and shook his head, caressing your cheek with a finger.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I like it.”

He moved you so you were fully lying down and finished removing your shirt.

“God, you’re an angel.” He looked at you adoringly, touching your stomach and lightly running his nails along them, leaving a red trail. “You can touch me too.”

He took off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. He took your hand and placed a kiss on it before resting it against his chest. Your shy gaze ran over his bare chest and your fingers trembled.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” He said as he noticed your shaking hand.

“I don’t feel afraid, just… Something an angel shouldn’t feel.”

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

He made a path with your hand, going down to the bulge in his jeans. You held your breath without realizing it and gave a small squeeze. Sam smiled and nodded.

“C’mon, be a good pretty angel and get rid of my pants.” You gave a small nod and undid his belt before unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them. “That’s it, pretty angel.”

He lifted his hips so you could pull his jeans down. You left them bunched up at his ankles and laid back down. Sam was left in just his boxers and licked his lips.

“Good girl.” He caressed your cheek and positioned himself on top of you completely. “Now, I’m going to take off your pants, got it?”

“Yes…”

“Good, you’re doing great.”

He pulled down your white shorts with cherries on them. You were wearing cotton panties with a cute red bow and Sam let out a sigh, dying to destroy you right there. You looked at him, waiting for any reaction from him, any words. But Sam stayed quiet, sitting on your legs and running a finger over your panties. You bit your bottom lip and your hips reacted on their own, giving a little jump and being rewarded with Sam’s laughter.

“You’re so receptive, angel.” He slipped his fingers inside your panties and pulled them down. “God…” Your breathing became quicker and you gripped the couch beneath you. “Don’t worry, baby… I’ll take care of you.”

He pulled his boxers down to where his pants were and your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, standing tall and wet at the tip. He touched your bundle of nerves with his thumb and rubbed it gently. He longed to hear those cute sounds leave your mouth. He pushed a single finger in and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, no, open your eyes.” He clicked his tongue and rubbed his nose against yours. “I want to see those cute little eyes of yours.” You opened your eyes again, your brow furrowed slightly as you looked up at him. “Atta girl.”

He continued to push his finger in up to the knuckle and caressed that spongy part inside.

“Oh, my Father-” You gasped.

“I don’t think this is a good time to say his name, beautiful.” He smiled and kissed you.

His tongue swirled with yours, a dance. He began to slowly move his finger from the outside in as he swallowed all your moans. More juice was pouring out of you and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock ached, desperate to be inside you right now. He pulled away from your mouth and pulled his finger out of you, taking it into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. You looked at him in awe, your big eyes watching his dirty action worthy of a trip to hell.

“I need to be inside you right now.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you, thinking that maybe you had changed your mind and wanted him to stop. But you just nodded. With permission given, he began to push his big cock against your entrance and your hands gripped his arms tightly.

“That’s it, sweet angel, you’re doing so well.”

“Sam...” You whimpered, your beautiful eyes trying to take in your bodies connected.

“There you go, baby,” He said as he pushed further into you. “Not long now.”

He gave one last push and you moaned. It was like quickly pulling a band-aid off a wound. He stayed still for a few seconds as he cupped your face and kissed you. He moved slowly, his cock sliding in and out of your little hole. All the while you moaned and dug your nails into his skin. There was no pain, only pleasure. A pleasure that slowly invaded your entire body.

“My angel... You’re doing so well. Taking me so good.” He continued to move his hips against your ass. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He placed one last deep kiss on your lips and pulled out of you. You whimpered in disapproval at the feeling of emptiness and Sam laughed as he took you by the arms.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be inside you in no time.” He flipped you over, placing you on your knees to your chest, your head on the couch. “I’m going to destroy you.” He said against your ear before he entered you again.

Thrust after thrust, Sam brought you closer and closer to your long-awaited orgasm, something you had never experienced before. His strong, large hands held you by the arms and saliva leaked from between your lips and spilled onto the couch. But that wasn’t the only thing that was spilling out. Your juices lubricated his entire cock, making it easier for him to slide into your pussy, which convulsed around him.

“I can feel you’re close already.” He reached a hand into your hair and gave it a tug, earning a mewl from you. “My beautiful angel… I’m your first and I promise I’ll be your last.”

Your ass was already red from the blows of his pelvis.

“Sam, I-I feel… I-I feel…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Let it happen.”

Your vision darkened as you felt the pleasure hit your body. Your eyes rolled back and you tightened around him. You couldn’t say a word. Sam's movements didn't stop, determined to destroy you and finish inside you. White flooded you and you swore you could see your father at that very moment.

Your tired body stilled and Sam turned you around.

“How do you feel, beautiful?” He asked as he placed a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“As if...” You tried to speak. “As if the bliss of God was washing over me...”

Sam smiled and shook his head in amusement.

“Well, I feel honored.” He wrapped his arm around you and placed a kiss on your hair. “You were perfect, baby.”

He placed a blanket over both of you and didn’t pull out of you. He wouldn’t do that for the world. He was just beginning to show you the different things lust could take one to. And he wouldn’t stop showing you until your angel innocence was tainted by his demon actions.

Sam Winchester One Shots

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

Join my Tag List

@yjessi @s7nburn @tommysaxes @depressionbarbie2023 @rxouxcesss @mrs-nesmith @ailishnovak @v1v1-3 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @s0urw00lf @delynez @fionasapple88 @luvwillz @nancymcl @yeehawgiddyup13 @mostlymarvelgirl @too-many-books-too-little-life @benscumgluzzer @arlovesper @nymphet-quenn @apobangpo-0613 @deansimpalababy @smgespn

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #sam winchester fic #sam winchester spn #sam smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki smut #jared padalecki

43 notes · View notes

karinadele · 2 days ago

Text

Budget Walmart Medic

Ratchet x reader

ch7.

Prev (AO3)

Tumblr

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of incorrect medical procedures, Character on the verge of death, Bad writing, Drugs, Mentions of suicidal ideation, PTSD, its 4am and im not proofreading or reformatting, saving that for when i post on ao3

“Fuck this shit.” You utter to yourself as you slam the door of your apartment closed. Sliding your back down the door to fall to the ground as you clutch your hair. Is it really too much to ask people to respect your decisions? Besides, it was just a metaphor for what you were feeling. Everyone says ‘Oh I’m gonna fucking kill myself!’ but most don’t mean it. Are all Cybertronians this stubborn? Sighing as you push yourself off the door and tossing your keys to the kitchen counter. Fine, sure, you’re a little suicidal, but just passively. It’s been years since you’ve visited grippy sock jail anyways.

But you’re just so mad. Respect is always something to be valued. You didn’t choose to be in this world, and you’d be damned if others don’t respect the choices you do. Even if it means death. Slamming your head against the fridge as you reach to the cupboard and grab a pill bottle. You haven’t been this pissed since your ex. The little white bar with the letters XANAX engraved twirls in your finger before you decide to pop it down. Not even bothering with a glass of water as you just dip your head into the sink and drink it straight from the tap.

Why are you so pissed? It’s just a passing comment that you’ve heard a million times before, yet something boils in you. Is it because your past few days have been nothing but chaos? Have you even had a chance to take a breather and process it? –And no, a cigarette break does not count.

No. There’s something more to it. Is it because Ratchet said it?

Giving up, you decide to end this shit before it gets even more complicated. Classic too scared and scarred to be involved in anything, so you cut off everyone before anything happens. But in this situation, it’s completely acceptable. Alien robots telling you want to do?! If you weren’t being locked up for trying to hurt yourself, you’d be locked up for psychosis at this rate.

One more all-nighter. You tell yourself. Contact Raf and ship the damn guy off and be done with your problems. Poor Raf. Being such a young age and already wrapped in otherworldly business. Either he has a will of steel or just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe it’s not actually that bad. Refusing to entertain that thought, you slide your computer chair back and flop into it.

A child wouldn’t be awake at this time anyways. Typing away as you let your thoughts wander. He’s on the run too right? You feel a pang in your chest as you realize a child can’t even enjoy a good night’s sleep. Probably with that sleek muscle car napping in the back. How you wish you could offer him a hug and a good night’s rest.

Wait.

So why don’t you?

You’re not affiliated with any governments, the Decepticons don’t know you, and you have a spare bed. Besides, you were already on your way to contact him.

Hastily typing out a message as you feel the effects of the Xanax kicking in. Another day saved by drugs. Lord have mercy you probably need rehab after all this. Locating Raf’s number wasn’t that hard, everyone has a social media account these days. Even kids. The real kicker is getting it through without detection. Opening up Scapy as you slog away encrypting each packet.

By the time you’ve hit send, It was already dawn. Another successful all nighter. You take a moment to lean back and relax, knowing it’s now done. Sluggishly dragging yourself over to the fridge as you nibble on a block of cheese –hey protein right? And flop back into your chair, pulling up your music to relax.

You were so engrossed in your music and just catching up with your breath that you didn’t even notice there was a little figure outside your window. Being on the ground floor meant not only bugs, but apparently also creeps.

What the fuck.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtains. If it was any other day, you would have ran into the bathroom and locked yourself up. But viva la drugs! What you find… Is Raf. Along with the black muscle car fully transformed standing on the lawn. Your landlord is gonna be pissed. She spends hours planting those flowers and now..? Yikes.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and head on out to meet Raf. They sure got here quick? How even? Has it been that long since you sent the message, or can that car just drive insane speeds? Under the dark, you don’t notice much, but the moment you let Raf in, –and told the autobot to lay low and get off the lawn, you realized a surprising problem. Raf is hurt. Barely holding it together.

Scrambling as you pick him up and lay him on your bed, you check for his vitals, the ABCs. Airway seems to be intact, breathing is there, if a little bit shallow. And circulation.. well you don't know. but he’s bleeding with wounds everywhere and you feel your blood boiling. He’s only 10! (he’s 12) how can anyone do this to a child?! You wanted to offer him solace and a good night of rest, not like this!

Flying out your door once you made sure Raf is breathing, as you head to his car companion to find some answers. Only to be replies with bleeps and bloops. Great. An autistic boy with an autistic car. And Raf is in no shape to translate, so the next best is… ah shit. Ratchet. The same one that’s got you all stressed out. Shoving your emotions aside for the nth time of the day, as a life is more important, adrenaline pumping through you, you bolt downstairs into the garage.

“RATCHET! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” You yell out at him, huffing and panting from running.

Ratchet, still in his little world, under stasis, does not budge. You don’t have time for this! For fuck’s sake! Not another near death’s door! Completely pumped on adrenaline, you smack him, kicking his wheels, banging on his windows and eventually climbing into his hood to smack the windshield. Gosh you wish you brought a crowbar.

Just as you were about to pick his lock and just drive him out, when the medic stirs.

“WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouts back. Clearly not liking being forcibly woken from stasis, or appreciating some human crawling all over him causing damage to him.

“We have a situation, Ratchet.” You try to explain to him as calmly as you can. But underneath that, there’s a tinge of stress and panic. “Raf’s not doing good. He’s here.”

For the second time of the night, Ratchet nearly forgot he’s underground and smacks the ceiling trying to transform. Pieces of concrete fall down between the two of you.

“IS HE INJURED??” Optics widened, half transformed, half kneeling down. Raf. He’s been through so much. Dark Energon, and now this! FRAG! And he can’t even contact June or anyone without endangering everyone. He feels so helpless again. Panic also waves through him. realizing just how useless he is again. Again.

Your voice snapped him out of it. “He’s in my apartment right now. His breathing is shallow, airways are clear, he’s losing blood as we speak… ah! But that Camero is here too. I can’t make out left or right about what he’s saying though! Ratchet! Lets go!”

Still grounded in fear, his processors disconnecting as he’s reliving his trauma of how he couldn't do anything for Raf the first time, and how Bumblebee is here too –Another reminder of how he’s failed everyone. Optics widened as he shakes in place.

“RATCHET! FUCK! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

You call out again, as you kick his leg.

“OW! YOU FRAGGING-”

He caught himself before he did anything, realizing you just snapped him out of it. Transforming fully back into his vehicle mode, as you scramble in and direct him over to the main streets, where the other Autobot is.

You let the boys figure out what happened, as much as you’d like to stay back and have a full recount on what happened, Raf is your priority. Running fast as you can back into your building, with how stressed and uncoordinated you are, slamming into the door before you even turned the doorknob like an idiot. When you finally make it in, you’re greeted with a child that’s half your side barely hanging on a thread.

You want to just break down and cry. You don’t know him, but this is not it. Everyone deserves to enjoy life. With the last of the Xanax countering you adrenaline, you get to work. “Sorry Raf. Sis is gonna have to take a look at you. Or try anyways.”

Ratchet and Bee are busy arguing about what happened. That a decepticon managed to trace his alt mode– even with the new paint job. Particular because they noticed Raf. Gunning for the child, relentlessly firing one after another to him. Bumblebee did everything he could to protect Raf, but it was not enough. Both of them sustained severe damage. Ratchet nearly wanted to scream and shout at Bee for being so reckless to have gotten Raf into this situation, but Bee interjected that after they managed to get into hiding, Raf’s phone got a notification. With whatever strength the kid had, he relayed that contact with you was established. And instantly they peeled off, going way above traffic limits, speeding off on the highway in the night to meet you. After all, Ratchet is with you.

Ratchet’s energon lines were nearly boiling. He snapped at Bee. He can’t do anything for humans! And he can’t even contact June! He couldn’t even fix Bumblebee’s voice box! He feels like a failure! And Raf! The one child he’s gotten close to, is now utterly helpless!

As the two boys argue outside, you’ve already started to work on Raf. Context to what happened would be nice, but a critical situation does not afford time for it. Raf is drifting in and out of consciousness, but with whatever words he can explain, he’s pointed out he’s gotten shot, as well as several metal shrapnel had embedded into him.

You’re full of rage. But thankfully for you, stress fuels you. Instantly snapping into work mode, you bring out your medkit. A kit that’s more of a duffel bag littered with supplies that’s probably half expired. Regardless, it’s the best we can work with. You don’t even noticed the two autobots staring outside your window as you work away on Raf.

Do they send him to a human hospital? They certainly can, but will human doctors know what to do when these are energon infused weapons? Would Raf’s family be contacted? Will that endanger the whole hiding in secrecy more? Ratchet is losing it, kicking away plants and punching trees, while Bee is desperately trying to calm him down, despite being hurt himself.

You hear the commotions outside, but are completely tunnel focused, locked into working on Raf. Raf explains he’s struggling to breath, and you noticed one of his lungs is working over time, and the other is very shallow, rather than breathing together, they’re alternating. Considering he was hit with a chest, its not uncommon for it to have developed into tension pneumothorax. You really hope it isn’t, as that’s not a procedure that should be performed in some drug addict’s apartment, but shortly after, his breathing stops. This is not good. There wouldn't be enough time to call for emergency services. Technically you have an emergency vehicle already, but said vehicle is not versed in human medicine. The good Samaritan law right? Either you do something now and hope it brings him back, or he’ll die. or die trying. There’s only one logical option.

Hurriedly cutting his clothes off, as you feel around on his collapsed lung. A child should be two ribs down. Digging on your bottom shelf for vinyl gloves, shoving it on and praying Raf isn’t allergic to anything, you grab your box cutter and quickly swap out the current blade with a new blade. Snatching the vodka on the coffee table and pour it all over your hands, the blade, and a plastic tube you’ve managed to fish out.

Following along the collapsed lung, tracing along his ribs till you’ve counted two, as you press the tip of the blade into the skin, slowly with accuracy, cutting in inches deep before making the cut horizontal across his ribs. If you had more supplies and time, you would have done this with a needle for safety, but fuck! You're convinced you've used up the last of the needles shooting up morphine! Coming back to reality as you work swiftly inserting the tube into his lung, and instant 'pppssshh' hisses out from it.

Ratchet and Bee at this point, have basically glued their faceplate and optics by your window, zooming in into what’s going on. Ratchet recalled that you said you were not a medic, but yet you’re performing with accurate precision. This may be illegal in both Earth and Cybertronian terms, but he can't help but be in awe with how steady your hands and focus on Raf is. Bumblebee however, noticed that you’re completely stressed. Vibrating like a leaf as he points it out to Ratchet. He takes notice as he pulls his optics away from your work, to realize just how scared you are. Clenching your teeth until it’s sore, then swapping to biting your lips until the blood is cut off, moving back to gritting your teeth. He can sense your breathing is all over the place, mostly forgetting to breath as you hold your breath until tears are welling up.

With a gasp, Rafael manages to suck in a breath.

“Easy there Raf. don’t breath too hard. You have a collapsed lung. It probably hurts right now." You tell him.

Subconsciously, Ratch runs a scan on both you and Rafael. You were correct. He did in fact, had tension pneumothorax. And he now is breathing. Still gravely wounded with blood leaking, but able to breath. You on the other hand, physically are safe, but the amount of adrenaline is sky high, and he can see your blood pressure and heart rate reaching the unhealthy range. Powerless to help you two, he wanted to beat himself up. Thankfully, Bumblebee bleeps a few beeps reassuring that you know what you’re doing, and Raf is in safe hands. (Little did Bee know, you in fact, do not know what you’re doing.)

The poor barely conscious boy gives you a nod and you can feel your adrenaline wearing off. Not yet. We still have things to do. He still has bleeding wounds to stop before he’s stabilized. Poor kid is bleeding all over your bed. Fishing in the first aid kit as you grab an EpiPen (totally expired) and stab it into yourself, followed by popping a few pills of Ativan to help sedate the effects.

Ratchet does not understand what is going on, but detected the adrenaline wearing off, cortisol levels rising, only to instantly be replaced with another wave of adrenaline. Is that what you injected?! Why would you purposefully do that?! He was caught in these thoughts when suddenly, a flashback came to him. When he was so desperate to figure out the Synthetic Energon that he tried it on himself… You weren’t testing drugs on yourself… you were desperately doing it to make sure you can continue to save Raf’s life…

Last push you tell yourself. Stop the bleeding and you can have a break. Fueled with too much adrenaline, you instantly start working. Raf will be in such pain you thought. Digging your hands back down the bag for the last vial of morphine you have, -graciously stole from the hospital during your last visit. You mentally calculate how much you need, for a boy this age. You have his age and estimate of height… but his weight? You’re terrible at guessing weights. With no time to think, you suddenly realized something. If Ratchet was able to scan out that you had energon in you, can he scan Raf’s weight? Last thing you want to do is accidentally overdose the poor boy into death. Spinning your head back as you nearly get jumpscared by two bots glued to the window, you slide open the glass.

“Quick Ratchet. What’s Raf’s weight?”

Caught off guard as he was completely focused on your wellbeing, he quickly resets his vocalizer and take a look at Raf’s weight, Giving you an estimate.

Wanting to be on the safe side, you decide 1mg should be enough, not enough to knock him out, but at least subdude the pain. Not like you have local anesthesia or have time for lidocaine creams to work. Realizing you in fact, did have one last sterile needle that you saved from safe needles exchange clinics. Never did you think this was what it was going to be used for. Drawing out what you feel is about 1mg as you tie a tourniquet around Raf’s arms, slapping it a couple times until you can see the vein. Children have small veins, and you’ve opted for a butterfly needle. Thankfully he seems to have better veins than you, and you push the morphine into him. Telling him he’s okay, he’ll feel better soon.

In a moment’s time, Raf is peaceful sleeping, no doubt from the stress and his body finally giving up. But also a symptom that the drug has kicked in. It’s showtime. Making an effort to clean his open wounds with rubbing alcohol as that vodka is totally gone. You work as swiftly as you can, with nothing but a fucking sewing needle and nylon fishing wire, you zone in and start his sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve ever sewn up anything, but once you got into the groove, it was surprisingly relaxing.

Half an hour later, you find yourself done with the major bleeds, finishing off the smaller cuts with a mix of butterfly bandaids and normal one, you proceed to apply medicated gauze over the larger more likely to be infected wounds. Mentally drifting off to how expensive these were, but instantly pulling back to the problem at hand. Finishing up as you bandage him up with rolls of gauze and securing it with medical tape.

Ratchet at this point, could not believe what he was seeing. You, who claimed to not have been a medic, just went through with a complicated surgery, as well as sutures. He wondered if the day he met you was also a life saved by you.

By now, the adrenaline has started to subsided. The parasympathetic nervous system is now starting to take over. Making your way over to the bots as you tell them, Raf is out of critical condition, but he still needs to be in a hospital.

Ratchet is in a turmoil, he know Raf needs to be seen by a proper medic, yet he also know they not only need to lay low, but humans would not know how to even begin diagnosing Raf with energon blasts. “If only we could contact June…” He mumbled.

“June? Who’s that?”

“Jack’s mother, a nurse. Someone who’s aware of our presence.” He curtly replied.

Who is even Jack??

“So– We just need to contact her right?” You already know where this is going, seems like the day is far from over.

“Without detection of course.” Ratchet tagged on. “I have her number if you need it.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Giving him a nod as you flop back into your computer chair and once again, send an sos signal –fully encrypted to this said “June”. You’re fighting your body to stay awake now. The cortisol and benzodiazepines are practically taking over. With the message sent, you slice a little of your windscreen open, and shove the spare keys into Ratchet’s servos.

“I sent her a message. You let her in when she gets here, okay?” As you look out the window. Ah shit. They’ve ruined the whole front yard now. Is that a broken tree?

Ratchet, still having a hard time processing what in Primus’s aft just happened, and Bee just as lost. Without a second thought, you pass out right at your computer desk. You could just hope the bots don’t get in any trouble until June arrives…

#transformers #ratchet x reader #transformers x reader #rambles #transformers x human #budget walmart medic #i took 2 kpins to get through this...#yes i know the procedures are wrong #any surgeon in the house to help me...?#i have surgery in 8 hours... goodbye

23 notes · View notes

gojonanami · 9 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?”

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike.

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully.

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.”

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,”

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision.

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,”

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens.

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?”

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble.

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here.

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,”

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head.

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone.

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours.

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?”

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal.

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks.

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?”

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was.

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?”

“Of course,”

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone.

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened.

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,”

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend.

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin, “is something interesting about my hands?”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,”

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,”

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?”

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?”

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away?

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?”

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids.

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?”

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.

Fuck.

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,”

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,”

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew.

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other.

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?”

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp.

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,”

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?”

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,”

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either.

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense.

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,”

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,”

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body.

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod.

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash.

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more.

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji:

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more?

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so.

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him.

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?”

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?”

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?”

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,”

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs.

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?”

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned.

God, what the fuck.

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,”

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.

“We don’t have to—“

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but—

“Sounds perfect,” he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay.

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,”

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes, holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms.

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,”

“For?” He raises an eyebrow.

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face.

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips.

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,”

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you.

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.

“I didn’t think I was either.”

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,”

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him.

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!”

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?”

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie.

But you can’t.

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.”

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse.

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good.

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you.

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips.

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute.

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,”

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed.

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap.

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty.

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling.

It was his favorite thing.

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in.

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?”

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other.

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties.

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth.

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,”

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away.

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy.

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it.

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,”

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side.

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face.

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head.

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep.

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek.

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection.

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him.

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same.

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop.

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back.

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did.

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now.

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair.

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?”

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?”

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside.

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket.

It had been like this since that night.

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back.

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it.

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him—

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship.

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that.

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were?

And now you know what you wanted to do.

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out.

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips.

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?”

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth.

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl.

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs.

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears.

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow.

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips.

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words?

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to.

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much.

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket.

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his.

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike.

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,”

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later.

How long has it been?

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place.

Great.

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him.

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him.

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this.

But you weren’t made to let this break apart.

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped.

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about.

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember.

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him.

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,”

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip.

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours.

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?”

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,”

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,”

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach.

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,”

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart.

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself.

“I didn’t want to bother you—“

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say?

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone.

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you.

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?”

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence.

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days.

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt.

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new.

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking.

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side.

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that.

You were in love.

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on.

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself.

And he deserved more than that.

He deserved more than you.

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that.

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home.

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks.

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall?

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his.

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion.

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same.

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him?

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street.

What just happened?

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it.

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay.

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again.

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks.

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,”

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher.

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.”

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t.

Not yet.

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place.

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands.

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet.

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his.

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his.

And maybe things could get back to normal.

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,”

And you smile, “I love you too—“

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression.

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,”

“Yuji—“

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,”

“Yuji—“

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“

“Yuji—“

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name.

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off.

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“

Fuck it.

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,”

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?”

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little.

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life.

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.”

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends.

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed.

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?”

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,”

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,”

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again.

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan.

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,”

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?”

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head.

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you.

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath.

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays.

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.”

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,”

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again.

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much.

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release.

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin.

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss.

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,��

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back.

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp.

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides.

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling.

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again.

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,”

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit.

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words.

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips.

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead.

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,”

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss.

“And you always will.”

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her.

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,”

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.”

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,”

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.”

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

#sab [mlist]#yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fanfiction #yuji itadori fluff #yuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji fanfiction

10K notes · View notes

sttoru · 9 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #toji x you #toji fluff #toji fanfic #toji fushiguro x reader

3K notes · View notes

froggibus · 6 months ago

Note

MORE WADE AND LOGAN PLSSSSS CAN WE GET THEM (POLY) DATING A SHORT READER HCS??? TYYYY

Short! S/O - Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson

Pairing: Logan Howlett x short! gn! reader x Wade Wilson

Genre: fluff

CW: poly relationship, teasing, short jokes, Logan picks us up, protective boys, size diff

| Ryan Reynolds & Hugh Jackman are both 6’2 so I am gonna go off of that (i know Logan is short in the comics but just let me dream pls :,) |

YES YES OF COURSE!!! there’s almost nothing I love more than writing a short/small reader cause I myself am not short :,) but it’s nice to pretend. god both of them are so tall I just wanna stand between them & feel safe ^^ thank you so much for the req!!

they’re such bullies i’m so sorry

expect a TON of short jokes (mostly Wade)

and expect them to parry anything you say with “you’re short” (mostly Logan)

you will always be their arm rest, you have no say in it

standing in line? Logan’s leaning his arm on your shoulder.

at a party? Wade’s propping himself up on the top of your head

Logan LOVES how short you are too and manhandles you at any opportunity

if you’re being a brat, he won’t hesitate to remind you that he is bigger than you

whether that’s him throwing you over his shoulder or just standing real close to you so you can see the height difference up close & personal

as soon as Wade sees Logan in, he can’t help himself—he’ll slide up on your other side and smush you between the two of them

they’re such teases they’ll talk about you like you’re not completely stuck between them

“nice weather we’re having, hey?”

“oh yeah, real nice bub”

they’ll keep chatting until you’re whining and pushing against them to just get out

Wade LOVES putting things on shelves too high for you to reach just so he can watch you struggle

and Logan the absolute menace will lean against the wall with his arms crossed and watch you hop to reach your phone charger

they’ll sit there and watch you struggle until you turn on them with sad eyes and suddenly they’re racing to get it down for you

these mfs are so protective they will not leave your side whenever you go to parties/the bar

one of them is glued to you 24/7 (even when they’re not physically with you, they’re watching you too)

and anyone in the general area (07) knows not to fuck with you

on especially hard days, your size is just what they need

coming home from fighting crazy strong villains & mutants to their cute short s/o? nothing better in the whole world

masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way!! likes, comments & rbs are always appreciated ^^

#deadpool headcanons #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine Headcanons #Wade Wilson #Wade Wilson x reader #Wade Wilson x you #logan Howlett #logan Howlett x you #logan Howlett x reader #deadpool x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons

4K notes · View notes

plutotheplum · 3 months ago

Text

Blurred Lines

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you’ve decided to get intimate for the first time with your boyfriend, and who better to ask for advice than his best friend?

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, kissing, oral sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, p in v, possessive sex, praise kink, cheating/infidelity

wc: 4.4k

a/n: i don't support cheating at all, this idea just would not leave me so erm... i just had to write it

also on ao3!

You might be a little in over your head.

Sure, the entire thing had been your idea, but now that you’re standing outside of Leon’s apartment, duffle bag clutched in hand, you think you might’ve made the wrong decision.

But… you did really like your boyfriend.

It was why you were doing all of this after all. You wanted the first time with your new boyfriend to be perfect, especially after your last relationship had practically turned out to be a disaster. The sex hadn’t been enjoyable and the heated conversations between you and your ex even more so.

So, who better to ask for advice than your boyfriend’s best friend?

Eyes squeezing shut, you mutter a few words of self-encouragement. The doorbell looks oddly ominous when you open your eyes again.

You weren’t even sure why Leon had agreed to this entire thing. He’d always just been there, barely acknowledging your presence at all. All in all, you were convinced Leon hated you. It didn’t matter though, you didn’t particularly like the man either. Leon was just an unfortunate addition to things you had to endure.

An irritated huff of air leaves you and your hand jerks out, your own body having grown tired of your indecisiveness. The doorbell rings promptly and you shift on your feet, biting your lip nervously.

When the door creaks open, you have half the mind to run away. Leon’s gaze keeps you pinned in place however, his bored eyes dipping over you, brows raising slightly when he sees the duffle bag you were holding.

“You were serious about this, huh?” Leon asks, crossing his arms over his chest, peering down at you.

“Uh- well,” you begin, tongue feeling heavy, “I- I can just leave,” you laugh awkwardly, “you’re probably busy and I don’t want to bother you and-”

“Stop rambling,” he interrupts, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, “just get inside.”

You’re grateful for his timely intervention, nodding rapidly and stepping inside. Taking off your shoes, you place them by the door neatly, not wanting to annoy Leon even more. He motions with his fingers and you follow him in, letting him guide you into his bedroom.

“What’s the bag for?”

“Oh, I packed a couple of outfits,” you shrug, watching as he sits down on his chair, “thought you might be able to tell me which one would work the best.”

Leon stares at you blankly, his lips pursing.

“You’re fucking weird.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, your eyes narrowing as you glare at the man in front of you. “You agreed to help me!”

“I didn’t think you were being serious,” Leon retorts.

You glare at him a little more and he lets out an exasperated sigh, motioning for you to sit down on the edge of his bed. You do as he says, although your movements are begrudging, feeling miffed.

“So?” He asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “what do you want to know?”

“Se- sex stuff,” you reply casually, although your posture betrays you. It’s difficult to feel comfortable around Leon, his gaze uncomfortably intense and probing. You don’t think you’ve ever sat with your back this straight for so long before.

“Watching porn would’ve solved that problem for you,” Leon says drily.

“You’re a real asshole, Leon.”

He rolls his eyes at your jab, slouching a little further in his chair, thighs spreading as he gets comfortable. Leon’s fingers tap against the arm-rest, seemingly lost in thought. You couldn’t feel anymore awkward, agitatedly playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Can’t you just tell me what he likes?” you blurt out, growing desperate, “you guys talk about that stuff, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Leon says, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Just do what feels natural. Sex isn’t supposed to be something you spend weeks worrying about.”

It’s surprisingly solid advice…but Leon could’ve told you all of this over text. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly.

“But what if he doesn’t like it?” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Then he’ll tell you,” he says, hands clasping together. Leon gives you another once-over, tilting his head. “Go get changed, let’s see those outfits.”

You nod, tugging your bag into his bathroom and pull on your first outfit. It’s a pretty dress, flowy and a little short, but you’d figured it’d be a good pick.

“What do you think?”

Leon’s eyes flick up to meet yours, silently evaluating the dress. His brows furrow for a moment, something imperceptible passing through his eyes before he shakes his head. A sigh escapes you, but you disappear back into his bathroom obediently to pull on your next outfit.

Leon doesn’t like that one. He doesn’t like the one after either. Your patience is running thin by the time you’ve changed into your fourth outfit, a nice top and skirt. You tuck your hair behind your ears, staring at yourself in the mirror. You look cute, at least from your perspective. You don’t understand what he finds so unappealing about your sense of style. Leon’s eyes barely drift over you before he’s shaking his head again.

“Pass,” Leon drawls, looking bored out of his mind as he slouches in his chair. Irritation festers inside of you, teeth gritting together as Leon simply ignores you, scrolling through his phone.

“This is cute!” you protest, looking down at the outfit you put together, “I look cute!”

“If that makes you feel better, then keep telling yourself that,” he replies, not sparing you a second glance.

“You’re the worst!” you snap, stomping back into the bathroom.

Your temper gets the best of you when you scrutinize your irritated reflection, cheeks flushed with anger, the stress of being here with Leon bubbling past your own breaking point. You tug your top off, along with your bra, bathroom door slamming open as you move to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“How about now, asshole?”

Leon’s eyes widen when he sees your bare chest, surprise making his grip on his phone falter, the device falling towards the carpeted floor as he stares at your tits. His jaw seems to go slack, a sharp breath of air getting sucked in as he stares for a bit longer. You glare at him, chest rising and falling, watching as his gaze dips over the curve of your waist.

“They’re just tits,” he says nonchalantly.

Leon’s expressions betray his true emotions, however. You catch the bob of his throat as he swallows, the subtle clench of his jaw as he stares at your tits. Your eyes dip down between his thighs and a small smile spreads across your face when you spot the bulge forming in his shorts.

“Do you like ‘em?” you ask, tilting your head.

“What?” Leon sputters, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“Do you like ‘em?” you repeat, taking a step closer, “my tits, Leon.”

He swallows again, trying and failing to look away from your tits. “They’re fine,” he manages out after a moment, “normal, or whatever.”

That makes a frown pull at your lips. Your head tips down, taking in your own breasts. They weren’t anything special, but you thought they looked nice, at least. Embarrassment has your skin crawling, cheeks heating up when you realize how stupidly you’ve been acting.

You move to turn on your heel, but Leon stops you, his hand curling around your wrist. He tugs you forward, your feet stumbling slightly as he pulls you until you're standing between his spread legs.

“Maybe I should feel them,” Leon offers, peering up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “might- might help me judge a bit better.”

Surprise flits across your face, heat shooting through your body. You really shouldn’t let him do this, you shouldn’t even have your tits out in the first place but when Leon’s hand lands on your waist, all rational thought seems to leave you.

“Okay,” you whisper, “you can touch.”

Both of Leon’s hands are on your waist now, sliding upwards. You bite your lip to stifle a whine, back arching to push your chest into his touch when his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts.

Leon lets out a low hum, stroking his thumb over the same place again, staring intently at your hardened nipples. His fingers reach for them, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger as he tugs lightly before letting go, watching as your breasts move at the sensation.

“Gonna let me taste ‘em too?,” he asks, pinching your nipples again before rubbing his thumbs over your areolas.

“T- taste?” you echo, feeling your breath catch in your throat when Leon leans forward, his touch growing greedier as he grasps at your tits, squeezing the fat roughly. Your legs shake slightly, little twitches running up through your body and Leon notices, pulling you closer, his hands on the backs of your thighs as he helps you climb up onto his lap.

You can feel how hard he is when your cunt presses up against his clothed cock, a low whine slipping out of you at the feeling. Leon grins, squeezing your breasts a few more times, seemingly taken with tugging your nipples and watching your breasts bounce back into place.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “just let me put my mouth on you, hm?”

A single nod leaves you and Leon takes it as permission to kiss the space between your breasts. He’s surprisingly gentle with you, peppering soft kisses around your breast and over your nipples. Leon’s tongue lolls out before long, a groan emanating from him as he pulls you flush against him, his hips bucking up into your clothed cunt.

You gasp, fingers settling in his hair, pulling his head closer. Leon’s mouth opens wider, sucking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking across your nipple harshly as he silently urges your hips to move against him. You do as he wants, grinding against his lap, mewling when he sinks his teeth into the fat of your tit. He switches his attention to your other tit, sucking it into his mouth, pressing his hand into your back to make your chest jut out so that he can get more of you into his mouth.

“Do oh- do you like my tits now, Leon?” you ask breathily.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah,” he mumbles out drunkenly, “love your tits, baby.”

A light flush covers your cheeks when Leon pulls away, both of your chests rising and falling. He stares up at you, perched on his lap prettily, his hands squeezing at your waist soothingly. Your hazy eyes dip down to his lips, fingers tightening into his shirt as you imagine his lips on yours.

That would make everything all the more real however, so you refrain, simply peering down at him. Leon can see the uncertainty that makes you squirm, the flash of guilt that seems to dim down the spark in your eyes. He doesn’t exactly like the situation either, what the two of you are doing, but when your lower lip juts out into a cute, little pout, Leon wonders what might’ve been if he’d gotten to you first.

“We should stop,” he says after a while, fingers tapping the sides of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you murmur, humiliation flitting across your face, “we should.”

Leon helps you get off his lap, smoothing his hand over the ruffles in your skirt. It’s a weirdly considerate action and too out of place for him. You disappear into the bathroom, pulling your top back on. Leon waits for you, his eyes dipping to the bulge in his shorts. It’s uncomfortable, his half-hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

A heavy sigh leaves him, his hand reaching down to adjust himself before you come out.

“Thank you for letting me come over,” you mumble as he walks you over to his door.

“Don’t mention it,” Leon murmurs, his voice low.

Don’t mention it. You know deep down you won’t be mentioning anything to your boyfriend.

You go to open the door, but before you can, Leon’s stepping up behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he cages you in against the door. A soft whine spills out of you when he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re making things difficult,” he says, voice muffled with how closely he’s pressed his face into your neck.

“I- I’m leaving,” you retort weakly, managing to get your hand on the doorknob.

He hums, pressing one of his hands against the door, keeping it shut.

“Leon,” you sigh exasperatedly, “we can’t. You’re the one who said we should stop.”

“If I hadn’t said that, would you have stayed?”

The question hangs in the air. Your silence is answer enough. Leon’s mouth on your tits had been more than enough to convince you to stay, the memory of his clothed cock pressed up against your panties making you bite back another whine. His hand has begun to slide to your leg, smoothing up over your skin and under your skirt.

“Tell me,” Leon coaxes, his fingers grazing your panties, “would you have stayed?”

A strangled gasp is your response as he presses the pads of his fingers up against your panties. Leon lets out a low laugh, landing a soft kiss to your neck, his fingers rubbing at your cunt through the fabric of your panties.

Your head tips forward, forehead pressing against the door and mouth opening in a silent moan when Leon rubs faster. He trails kisses down your neck before nuzzling into the crook of it, pressing you against the door harder to grind his cock into your ass.

“C’mon, baby,” he urges again, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I- I hate you,” you grit out but you rock your hips across his hand anyways, wanting more friction against your pussy.

Leon clicks his tongue, drawing his fingers away.

“Ngh- nooo,” you whine, trying to get his hand back to where you want him to touch you, “Leon!”

It’s too late though, Leon’s already unlatched himself, taking a few steps back to put some space between you two. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, pursing his lips as he stares down at you.

“You’re a piece of shit, Leon.”

“You know, that makes me less inclined to want to touch you.”

“Fine,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ll just do it myself.”

“W- what?” Leon blurts out, gaze fixated on the sway of your hips as you push past him. He watches as you settle down onto his couch, your head tipping back as your hand disappears under your skirt and slips past the band of your panties.

A soft sigh escapes you when you touch yourself, eyes fluttering shut. You’re wet thanks to Leon, body squirming as your fingers circle your swollen clit to find some relief.

“Fuck,” Leon hisses, watching as you masturbate on his couch without a care in the world. His cock throbs painfully and he’s dropping to knees before he can stop himself, hands grabbing at your legs.

“No,” you glare at him when he tries to pull your panties down, swatting his hand away.

“Please?” he pleads, eyes darkened with lust, “baby, please? I- I just wanna see.”

“‘m not your baby,” you grouse, trying to shove his face away as your fingers slide through your slick folds.

“You could’ve been,” Leon mutters.

He looks a little bitter and you raise your brows in question. “You hate me.”

“No I don’t,” he replies, nuzzling into your knee, lips pressing against your skin in a gentle kiss, “I want you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you murmur, rolling your eyes when he manages to capture your wrist in his hand, stopping you from pushing him away. A soft gasp escapes you when he curls his arms over your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Been wanting to fuck you ever since he brought you ‘round,” Leon whispers, peppering kisses to your inner thighs, “you’re so pretty.”

You mewl, hips bucking as he pulls your panties down your legs. Leon’s eyes darken as your fingers move, spreading apart the folds of your pussy so he can get a good look.

“Fuck,” he groans, “pussy’s so fucking wet, baby.”

Your fingers run through his soft hair, pulling his head closer. Leon goes more than willingly, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your pussy. He lets out a guttural moan, arms tightening around your thighs, hands disappearing up your top to squeeze at your tits as he all but shoves his face into your cunt.

“You- oh- you should apologize, Leon,” you whisper, pushing his head away when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth. “You didn’t like any of my outfits and you were mean.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, trying to nuzzle back into your pussy.

You nod, and he groans, half-lidded eyes never straying from your leaking cunt.

“‘m sorry,” he breathes out, inching closer and managing to land a soft kiss to your aching clit, “‘m sorry, okay? I was an asshole and fuck-” Leon shudders, nudging past your hand to kiss your clit again as his eyes meet yours, “I didn’t him to want to see you like that, all pretty and dolled up.”

There’s a strange fluttering sensation in your chest, heart skipping a beat at his confession. You stare down at him, letting him kiss your clit one more time before you rub your fingers through your folds, pressing your slick fingers against his mouth. Leon moans, mouth opening, sucking your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.

“Don’t stop,” you mumble when Leon licks your pussy again.

He hums, squeezing at your tits, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as he eats you out. Soft mewls spill from your mouth, hips rocking to meet his mouth, back arching to press more of yourself against him.

You jerk in his grasp, an involuntary twitch running through your body when he strokes the pad of his thumb over your clit gently, his tongue burying itself inside of you.

“Leon,” you whine, tugging at his hair while your head tips back, “‘m close.”

He doubles his efforts when you say that, pinching your nipples roughly as he slurps and sucks at the wetness of your pussy. The sounds are lewd, the soft smack of his lips around your slick folds and aching cunt making you flush.

“Taking my fingers so good,” he whispers, pushing two of his fingers inside of your cunt and cooking them so that they brush against your sensitive spot.

You fist his hair tighter, moans growing louder as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, his mouth latching onto your clit, tongue flicking and stroking across the swollen bud before sucking hard.

“Ah!” you squeak out, shoving his face further into your cunt, thighs trapping his face and squeezing tight as you cum, body shuddering and toes digging into his back, “Leon!”

Leon groans into your cunt, taking your orgasm eagerly, sucking and licking at your wetness, drinking it down. He huffs a breath when you try to push his head away, moving your hand away to lick over your pussy despite your twitching thighs and the painful grip you have on his hair.

He pulls away finally with a kiss to your clit, grinning up at you, his eyes hazy with lust. The lower half of his face is wet and Leon licks his lips before leaning towards you, his nose nudging against yours.

“Kiss me, sweetheart.”

You whine, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He stares up at you, lips parted and you lower your head, hesitation and guilt forgotten as you press your lips against his. Leon lets out a contented sigh, his arms wrapping around your waist, lips moving against yours eagerly.

He gets off of his knees and crawls on top of you instead, hips slotting between your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, kissing him languidly and gasping into his mouth when he grinds his clothed cock against your bare cunt.

“Want it?” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck, “want my cock, baby?”

“We- we shouldn’t,” you whisper weakly, watching as he sits back to pull his shirt up over his head.

You gulp nervously when you see his bare upper half, cunt clenching at the sight of his muscled abdomen and thick biceps. Leon ignores you, his lips slotting over yours again, hand caressing your waist soothingly.

A sigh leaves you, hands smoothing over his shoulders to pull him closer. He stares down at you, panting softly, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re right,” he murmurs.

Neither of you make any moves to detach from each other however, Leon’s hand stroking over your hair as he grunts and rocks his hips against your cunt again.

“Just- shit- just the tip,” Leon offers, groaning when he feels your hands on his chest, “just the tip, baby.”

You whimper into his mouth when he kisses you again, fingers creeping down to pull at his shorts impatiently.

“D- doesn’t count if it’s just the tip,” you agree breathlessly, hand wrapping around his fat cock.

“Yeah,” Leon says, his voice shaky, “yeah, doesn’t hah- doesn’t count if it's just the tip.”

Leon mutters out a curse when your thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his cock, kissing you roughly as he grasps his cock, pumping it a few times. You watch, flushed and eager as he presses his cock against your folds, rubbing it against you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he snarls, moving his cock and slapping it the tip of it against your swollen clit, smearing pre-cum across your folds. “‘m gonna make you forget about him,” Leon slurs, “gonna make you mine, sweetheart.”

He presses the tip of his cock into you and you whine, clawing at his biceps, feeling the initial stretch of his cock. Leon grunts, his face pressing back into the crook of you neck, fucking you shallowly.

“Bet my entire cock would feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your neck, “wouldn’t that be nice, baby? My fat cock filling you up?”

“But- but we can’t,” you babble, gasping when he pushes his cock in a little more, “Leon- oh fuck-”

Your words die on your tongue when Leon drives his hips into you, cock filling you up completely. A strangled moan leaves you, head tipping back as you cry out, Leon groaning as he pounds his hips into you.

“Take it, sweetheart,” he grunts, hand smoothing over your hair as he kisses your cheek messily, “doing so good, made to take my cock, my sweet girl.”

The praise is making your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs tightening around his hips as your nails claw down his back.

“Kiss,” you whine, lips parting for Leon, “kiss me.”

Leon lets out a low growl, his lips crashing onto yours, cock dragging in and out of your clenching walls rapidly. The sounds of your skin clapping together fills his apartment, but you’re too cockdrunk, too utterly gone to have any care in the world. All you can think about is his weight on top of your body, his lips dragging across your skin, his cock pounding into you.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Leon moans, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You nod rapidly, cunt clenching around him as the coil of pleasure in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

“Leon!” you wail, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, body twitching.

“Cum,” he grunts, squeezing your hips tightly, “c’mon baby, cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cream my fucking cock.”

His lips slot over yours and you whimper, kissing him back needily as you shake in his grasp, orgasm racking through you as you cum.

“Fuck-” Leon whispers, feeling the clench of your cunt around his cock, “baby, baby, baby.”

His hips stutter, his head falling between your breasts, soft pants filling the air as he cums. Leon’s hot cum floods your pussy, another whimper escaping you as you feel his cock twitch.

You both lay there, chests heaving.

“I hate you,” you whisper, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” Leon rasps, “I know.”

He kisses you anyways.

Your boyfriend’s been promoted.

It’s how you find yourself here, latched onto his arm as he talks with his colleagues with a tight smile on your face. Unfortunately for you, Leon happens to work at the same place which is why you spend most of your time trying to avoid him.

You’d tried to get out of attending the anniversary dinner, too ashamed and sick to your stomach, but your boyfriend had pleaded with you, which had only made you feel guiltier.

You can’t escape Leon’s gaze either. His eyes bore into you no matter where you go in the spacious venue and it gets to the point where you’re telling your boyfriend that you need to get some fresh air. There’s a fire escape and you take your chance, pushing past the heavy door to suck in a deep breath of the cool night air. The expanse of the city lies out before you, buildings lit up and roads bustling with traffic. You rub your aching temples, eyes squeezing shut.

Unfortunately, you don’t get to cool down for long, not when Leon’s joining you. He looks as handsome as ever, especially in a suit, his hair combed back neatly.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Go fuck yourself, Leon,” you hiss out, pointing your finger at him accusingly.

A lazy grins spreads across his face, his arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your hands land against his chest, breath hitching when he lowers his head, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“Fuck me yourself, hm?”

You end up bent over the railing with Leon’s fat cock stuffed inside of you. He grips your hips roughly, groans as you cry out into the night, peppers kisses over your shoulder and shoves his fingers into your mouth while he whispers sweet nothings to you.

“You’re my girl.”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy

3K notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 7 months ago

Text

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl.

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against.

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you.

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel.

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today.

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight.

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?”

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day.

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job?

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu.

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow.

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse.

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers.

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands.

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion.

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?”

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet.

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now.

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher.

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment.

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare.

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion.

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either.

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention.

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise.

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on.

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you.

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him.

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine.

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send.

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer.

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators.

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same.

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait.

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow.

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day.

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire.

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave.

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him.

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning.

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?”

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were.

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance.

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open.

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day.

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting.

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love.

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels.

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command.

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint.

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again.

“What are you—”

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.”

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with.

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse.

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless.

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss.

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more.

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly.

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt.

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe.

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in.

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions.

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly.

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips.

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again.

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing.

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth.

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before.

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself.

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.”

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words.

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants.

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds.

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt.

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now.

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you.

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen.

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead.

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close.

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you.

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks.

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog.

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs.

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago.

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway.

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you.

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.”

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.”

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio.

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him.

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic.

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back.

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.”

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes.

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works.

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

“I love you,” he yells.

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.”

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling.

“Mingyu!”

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him.

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you.

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week.

4K notes · View notes