#i like to imagine they both squint with their glasses off

[areallyyellowmango]

Y'know what? That's it! *un-glasses-fies your Steven Rudboys and your Dr. W. Afton*

I'm working on drawing all of the neighbors in my style while being as accurate to their original models as possible, and since I had these two goobers done I figured I'd yoink their glasses and draw how I imagine they look without 'em, cause why not?

[screampied]

❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 9: Save Me

Summary: You find yourself confronting feelings as you move past the events that caused your distress, and as your heat begins looming closer and closer.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, mention of weapons, slight suggestive content

A/N: I feel like a broken record but I really don't like this one either, but I'm so ready to just get to this point in the story lol. I feel like I've dragged it on long enough. We're definitely reaching a point where things are shifting and changing and things might seem like they're moving kind of fast. Sorry for all the choppy time jumps too, I just wanted to get to this point in the fic 😭

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A knock on the door pulls you from sleep. You groan quietly, wrapping your arms tighter around the pillow you're cuddling. 

That pillow lets out its own groan, moving slightly. 

“Gotta get up, love. Answer the door.” Your pillow grumbles, shifting in your hold. 

You're wrapped around Gaz still, clinging to him tightly. You vaguely remember an alarm going off and Gaz rolling over to turn it off before you slipped back into sleep. Gaz had apparently fallen back asleep as well, or at least had stayed with you after both of your alarms going off.

Gaz carefully untangles your limbs from around him, slipping a pillow into your arms before rising from the bed. He stretches his arms over his head, a sliver of skin visible as he does so. You stare at it until he lowers his arms, your eyes already slipping closed again as he opens the door. 

You hear quiet voices, the words lost on you as you slip further and further into a daze of sleep. 

Until the smell of food hits your nose. Your stomach growls loudly, and you lift your head, squinting sleepily as you search for the source of the delicious smell. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” Price's voice rumbles through your ears, his hand warm as it brushes over your head. “How do you feel?” 

You let out another groan, leaning into his touch as his hand strokes your hair. You’re still sore, muscles aching like you had spent the entire day yesterday training. You feel less emotionally drained, not quite so overwhelmed to the point of near numbness now. 

“Dr. Keller wants to see you after you’ve eaten.” Price says, pulling his hand back. 

You let out a quiet whine, trying to chase his hand. He chuckles, gently nudging you back so you don’t topple off your bed. He slips his hands under your arms, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed. Your cheeks warm at how easily he does it, that warmth heating to an inferno as he sits on the edge of your bed with the bowl of porridge in his hand. You’re suddenly very awake as he holds out a spoonful to you, and you feel as if your face might burst into flames. His eyes are focused, lips turning up in a small smile as you let him feed you. You know it’s appeasing his alpha, just based on the pride practically beaming from him. 

You hold his gaze as he feeds you the porridge, skin prickling from the attention as you cling to the stuffed strawberry in your lap. You can imagine him in your nest, holding you against his chest, feeding you in your heat-induced daze, making sure you eat and get plenty of fluids. 

“You alright in there?” He asks, scanning your face. 

You nod, trying to calm the inferno under your skin. “Yeah. Just thinking.” 

The content smile on his face shifts, morphing into a smirk. “Must be some good thoughts, then.” 

You nod, taking the glass of water he offers you and downing it. 

“Get yourself dressed, then we’ll go see Dr. Keller.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

“Yes, sir.” You nod again, letting out a yawn. 

“If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’ll be forced to make you get up.” He says, giving you a playful smirk before leaving and closing the door behind him. 

Your face warms again at his words. You’re half tempted to burrow back under the covers, if only to see if he’d follow through with that threat.

Dr. Keller said it would be a good idea. 

You tell yourself that as you stand in Price’s office. The door is closed behind you, sealing you both inside together. His scent is heavy in the air, making your head spin. You wonder how long he’s been sitting at his desk, how long he’s been shut inside today. 

“Grab a pillow.” He says, his voice thick and heavy. He sounds tired, and you wonder how much he slept last night. If he slept at all. 

Your slippers make a scuffing sound as you shuffle over to the couch, grabbing the pillow you had used last time. You move over to him as he leans back in the chair, taking your spot next to him. You sit back on your heels, letting out a breath as you try and relax. His hand strokes the back of your head, giving you a moment to adjust to his touch before he slides it down to the back of your neck. 

You fight the instinctual urge to protect yourself, stopping your shoulders from lifting to try and force his hand away. You’re still not quite used to it, the vulnerability making your omega squirm, especially after the events that took place yesterday. 

You know you can trust Price, but your omega wants to bristle at everything right now. Perhaps you’re picking up on Price’s own exhaustion, his own stress bleeding into you. 

His fingers press into your neck and your body relaxes almost immediately. Your mind begins to clear, and you feel as if you’re floating away from your body. All the emotions and the stress and the soreness in your body fades as you relax into Price’s hold. Warmth begins to flood your body as your omega finally settles, nearly preening as your alpha takes control, taking the weight of the world off your shoulders. 

You can’t see Price’s gaze on you as he watches you kneel for him, lost in his own thoughts. How easily you relax for him, how trusting you are of him in this moment. You’re putting your entire being in his hands and trusting him with it, even though you’re practically still strangers. It hasn’t even been three full weeks since your arrival in their lives and already so much has happened. It feels like things are moving so quickly, but he knows they could move faster. 

If he were a worse man, a worse alpha, he would have claimed you already. Taken what was his to take and cared little for you and your needs. 

He’s not going to be that kind of alpha. He decided that a long time ago, long before you came into the picture. 

You fall into him limply as he eases his hand from your neck, letting you rest against him and breathe in his scent. Your nose presses into his neck, your warm little breaths causing goosebumps to form on his skin. A quiet sound rumbles in your chest as you press closer to him, getting louder as you breathe him in. 

You’re...purring.

Pride wells within him again. You’re comfortable enough to purr around him. He did that. He made you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up that much.  

He slips his arms around you, rising from the floor to move to the couch. You continue to purr, the sound vibrating through you and straight to his inner alpha. The sound begins before he can stop it, his own chest vibrating as he answers your purr with one of his own. 

He holds you close to his chest, purring contently as you slowly drift off in your relaxed state. Eventually your purrs die off as sleep takes you, but he continues to sit there, his own purrs vibrating in his chest as if they can reach through and soothe you even in your sleep. 

“Too tight?” 

You move your wrists, pulling slightly at the restraints. “No.” You shake your head.

“Good.” He runs a hand over your head, tugging at the vest, making sure it’s secured before he steps back. “Alright?” 

You nod, shifting slightly in the wooden chair. “Yes, sir.” 

“Remember, it’ll be fast and intense, but they’ll take good care of you. Don’t forget to play it up a bit. It’s good to know if they can focus in this situation.” Price says, running his hand over your head again. “And I’ll be watching the entire time.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before he leaves the room, the beta outside the door pulling it closed behind him. You tug at the restraints habitually, even though you could get out of them easily. Just like you could get out of the vest strapped to your chest and the chair you’re sitting in easily. 

Hostage rescue training was not how you expected to spend your Thursday morning, but you suppose there are worse things you could be doing besides being restrained in a chair with a fake bomb strapped to your chest. 

Price had told you about their training yesterday. You hadn’t expected to hear about how you were going to play hostage when he summoned you to his office, but it had been far too formal a request to be something simple. You had been hesitant when he explained, but the risk was small. They weren’t using live bullets, and the bomb strapped to your chest was hardly more than a bunch of wires and a timer counting down. Price had even ensured the restraints weren’t too tight, and had shown you how to slip out of them easily. 

The worst part had been your mind running rampant while he secured the rope around your wrists. 

You hear the distant sound of the helicopter dropping them off, the entire mood in the house shifting. The betas outside have a role to play, and so do you. 

The sound of the door outside getting kicked in makes you jump, your heart rate kicking up. You know it’s them, you know it’s fake, yet you can’t help but let the emotions in the moment get to you. 

They don’t know it’s you they’re rescuing. 

Price hadn’t told them you were involved. He wanted to see if they could keep their heads in a situation like this. It’s important to know. Gives them something to work on if they can’t. 

You hear the pop of the fake guns outside the door before two solid thuds shake the door in front of you. You hold your breath, your fingers shaking in the excitement and adrenaline as the door flies open. You flinch out of instinct, blinking at them as the three enter the room. It suddenly seems smaller with them in it, their surprise not lost to you, even in the tenseness of the situation. You know you’re scent is thick in the room, cutting through the trained laser focus in their minds as they run through a drill they’ve probably done countless times. 

Something they’ve probably done in real life situations as well. 

“Easy, sunshine.” Soap says, kneeling down in front of you. “Gonna get ye out of here.” 

“You can defuse that, right?” Gaz asks, standing behind him. You know they’re both trained in demolitions. You remember that from their files. 

“Course I can.” Soap says, looking at the wires. 

The timer starts beeping in warning, your heart rate picking up instinctively. There wasn’t anything that would actually explode if he failed, but you can’t help the chill of fear settling in as he messes with the wires. 

“Come on, Johnny.” Ghost says from behind you. 

“I got it.” Soap growls out, sweat beading on his forehead. 

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Time seems to slow as he studies the wires, the timer continuing to beep as it counts down. Even though you’re not in any danger, you still feel the fear welling inside you. He does know what he’s doing, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if he didn’t. Yet you can see the struggle, the hesitation, the uncertainty in his gaze. 

He wouldn’t let you die, right? 

“Ten seconds.” Gaz warns. 

“Johnny?” You breathe, voice cracking as you meet his bright blue eyes. 

He mutters a curse before cutting one of the wires. The tenseness in the room is palpable for a moment as all four of you hold your breath. The silence is loud, the timer on the fake bomb sitting still at six seconds. Soap’s head falls forward to rest against your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re shaking, fingers trembling as Ghost cuts the rope around your wrists. 

“Hostage secure.” Gaz says into their comms. 

“I wasnae gonna let ye die, sunshine.” Soap says, removing the vest from your body. 

“Kinda felt like it.” You murmur as he helps you out of the chair, your legs shaking a bit from the adrenaline. 

“Come on.” Ghost says as soon as Soap has you on your feet. “Captain’s waiting.” 

Your legs still feel unsteady as you follow them out of the building and across the grass, hand clutched tightly in Soap’s. The fabric of his glove is rough against your skin, but you can still feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You lean against his side as you reach Price across the field, not missing the way his gaze scans you head to toe quickly before he addresses the others. 

“Not bad,” Price says. “And the hostage is in one piece.” 

You’re still shaking a little, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Was kind of fun, actually, getting tied up and stuff.” 

Soap and Gaz both let out groans at your words, Ghost rolling his eyes at your cheeky smile. The corner of Price’s lips twitch, and you can’t help but beam with pride at eliciting such a reaction. 

“Let’s get back to base, and we’ll go over the specifics.” Price says. 

You wind up in the back seat of one of the cars with Soap, his arm draped across the back of the seat. You’re leaning into his side, his fingers brushing your arm every so often as the car drives down the bumpy road. 

“Ye called me Johnny.” He says quietly, leaning in closer to you. 

You stare up at him. “You were going to let me explode.” 

“I was not.” He says, looking offended. “I knew wha’ I was doin’” His brows pinch together, his hand cupping the back of your head. “I would never let anythin’ happen to you.” 

“I know.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “At least I hope so. Blowing up is kind of a shitty way to die.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, if it happened that way, ye wouldn’t be goin’ out alone.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Ye can call me Johnny anytime you want.” 

You smile, snuggling deeper into his side. “Okay, Johnny.” 

Your smile only widens as you pick up the subtle rumbling purr sounding from his chest. 

“How are things?” 

“Fine.” You shrug, sinking back in the chair. 

“I heard you took part in the hostage training. How did that go?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“It was fine, kind of intense but also kind of fun.” You shrug again, a smile tugs at your lips. “They didn’t know I was the hostage, so that was fun to see their reactions.” 

“Was that reassuring to see them in action and have them pretend to rescue you? I know we’ve talked about that fear briefly.” Dr. Keller says.

“In a way, I guess.” You say. “At least, I know they could do it if they had to. I mean, not that I don’t trust that they couldn’t, but...it’s different.” 

“It’s different when it’s someone you care about.” Dr. Keller says. “How are you feeling? I know we talked earlier this week, but distressing is a serious thing to go through.” 

“I’m alright.” You say, picking at your jeans. “Not sore anymore. Price called off training for a while to let us both kind of figure things out.” 

“Have you spoken to Lieutenant Riley since Monday?” She asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. A couple times. I didn’t accept his apology, not that he really said sorry directly, but he at least...explained some things.” 

“And it is totally within your right to not forgive him.” Dr. Keller says. “I applaud you for putting up that boundary. I know it’s not easy, but sometimes people need to work to prove themselves again.” She makes herself comfortable on the couch, staring at you. “How have you been aside from all the excitement? Have you started nesting yet?” 

You shake your head, biting your lip. “No. I-I feel more comfortable now that I have things for my room, but...I still don’t feel like nesting.” 

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she writes something down. “What do you think is causing this hesitance in your instincts?”  

Your mouth opens in surprise at her question, not quite expecting it. You had spoken last week about things you might be able to do to help if you weren’t nesting by now. You had expected to start throwing out ideas in that regard, not that you would be digging into why. 

“I’d like you to be honest with me. Remember this conversation will only ever be between us. No one else is going to hear this, no one else will ever see my notes. It’s just you and me.” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stares at you. “Would you have chosen to be in a place like this, if it were up to you?” 

“It wasn’t up to me. It never was.” You say, starting to sweat nervously a bit. It’s getting warm in the office.

“I know, but hypothetically speaking. If you had the option to choose, would you have chosen a place like this? A military pack?” 

You stare at your hands, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You wouldn’t have. You know that, you’ve thought about it over and over. You wouldn’t have put yourself in this position. You would have gone as far from the military and politics as you could have, had it been up to you. You want something quiet and easy with an alpha that loves you and takes care of you. Not...not this. 

You’re crying. You can’t stop the tears that are trailing down your cheeks. You feel guilty for thinking that way. It’s not your choice, it would have never been your choice. You’re supposed to be a good omega and be okay going wherever you’re told to, with whatever pack picks you. 

They hadn’t chosen you. 

They hadn’t wanted you here. Price had fought against your addition to their pack up until you arrived. You know Ghost has his own opinions about your presence here. They had been told they were getting an omega and you had been told you were going to be that omega. 

Would they have chosen you? 

You wouldn’t have wanted them to. 

Dr. Keller says your name quietly, her tone sympathetic as you sit there and cry. You’re crying for the life you were supposed to have, the life you could have had, the many things that would have been different had you just been a good pup and presented like you were supposed to. 

“I don’t want to be here.” You sob, burying your face into your hands. 

You feel guilty, admitting it, even if it is the truth. Your pack has been nothing but kind and supportive, aside from the incident earlier this week. You like them, all things considered. You can imagine yourself being happy with them. Was it what you wanted, though? Was this where you would have elected to spend the rest of your life? 

No. 

“Can you tell me why?” Dr. Keller asks softly. 

Her question only makes you cry harder. You could. You could tell her exactly why. You don’t want to bring up those feelings, those memories, those emotions. You want to leave them behind in the past, buried under everything you learned that made you such a good omega. It would ruin everything, if that got out, if those feelings came to light again. 

Your breaths are coming in gasps as you sob, Dr. Keller rising from the couch. She grabs a stuffed animal from her closet, walking back over to you. She eases it into your arms, pressing it against your chest. 

“Squeeze. It will help.” She directs you, dropping to a knee beside you. “This has something to do with the military, doesn't it?” She says softly, putting a hand on your back. “I know your father served and you spent most of your childhood on bases. Was there something that happened?” 

You take deep breaths, squeezing the bear against your chest as tight as you can. “I can’t.” You sob, shaking your head. “I can’t.” 

“Okay.” She says, gently rubbing your back. “That’s okay. Deep breaths.” 

You continue to breathe, trying to calm the tears. Dr. Keller continues to rub your back, trying to ensure you don't slip into distress again. The calming beta scent floods your nose, reaching back into your brain to calm the turmoil. 

Slowly your breaths begin to even out, and the tears slow to a stop. You’re still clutching the stuffed bear to your chest, arms wrapped around it tight. 

“You’re doing a good job.” Dr. Keller says, grabbing a box of tissues for you. “You’re handling this whole situation better than I think a lot of omegas would. But, that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t struggling a bit. You don’t have to tell me everything, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s all up to you. I just want you to know that I’m not going to judge you for anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I’m here for you, and you alone.” 

You slowly release your grip on the bear, your hands still shaking a bit. Dr. Keller moves back to the couch as you stare down at the plastic eyes, running your fingers over its soft fur. 

“I do think it would be a good idea to address the nesting issue sooner rather than later.” Dr. Keller says, still speaking softly. “We don’t have to get into the why until you feel comfortable enough to, but you need a nest before your heat starts. I have a couple exercises in mind to help maybe jumpstart those instincts, but we’ll need Captain Price in on this issue as well for them to work. I can speak for him on your behalf, if you’d like. I won’t tell him any details.” She says as your eyes dart up to look at her. “Only that there’s a nesting issue and there’s some exercises I’d like the two of you to try.” 

You let your gaze drop back to the bear. You know you need to start nesting, and with your heat rapidly approaching, you’re beginning to be pressed for time. Your heat could start as soon as next week and if you don’t have a nest...

“I guess that’s fine.” You say, staring back down at the bear in your hands. “If you think he can help.” 

Dr. Keller nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think he can.” 

“Thank you for meeting with me, Captain Price.” Dr. Keller says as they take a seat in her office. “I just wanted to preface this conversation by saying I was given permission to discuss this with you, because we both agree you should be made aware of what’s going on.” Dr. Keller shuffles her notes as Price sits there, back straight in the chair. “Frankly, if I’m being honest, I’m starting to get a little concerned about my patient.”

“Concerned about what?” Price asks, brows pinching. 

“She’s not having nesting instincts.” Dr. Keller watches Price’s face as she speaks. “Even with what you did for her, buying her things to make her more comfortable, she’s not getting that urge to make a nest. I know you’re aware that’s a crucial piece of a successful heat, and with that looming ever closer, I’m worried about her.” 

“What do you think is causing it?” Price asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m not sure, yet. I did promise I wouldn’t reveal any details about anything, but I do feel comfortable saying, as I’m sure you have figured out, there’s a lot of trauma behind that institute taught, if I may be so frank, bullshit.” 

The corner of Price’s mouth twitches. “Not a fan of institutes?” 

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “No. I’m not. There’s many professionals that share the same sentiment. They’re hardly the nurturing and cultivating places they present themselves to be, though I’m sure you’re figuring that out yourself. It’s always been about control and profit. The current model most of them use is outdated and has been proven in study to be highly ineffective. There are some places here in Europe that are beginning to reform institutes and what they teach, taking a more omega-centric approach, instead of just priming them for future alphas and packs.” 

“Can it be undone, the things she was taught?” He asks, purely out of curiosity. “The way she thinks about herself?”

“I think so, to a degree.” Dr. Keller answers. “You’re already seeing it a bit. She’s already having her beliefs and understanding challenged. Supporting her through that will be an important step in your bonding. The best thing you can do is support her and prove her institute taught beliefs wrong. I think you’re doing a fantastic job already, as is she.” 

“What can we do about the nesting?” He asks. 

“I have a couple exercises in mind I’d like to try. I’ve used one in practice before in a different situation. It was at one of the institutes I worked at after I was certified as an omega specialist. Two omegas were brought in off the streets. I can’t give too many details but they’d been through something very traumatic and had bonded intensely with each other. They couldn’t be separated at all without slipping into near distress. Of course, institutes don’t allow those kinds of bonds as it’s hard on the omegas when they reach selection age. So, we did an exercise where I had both scent a stuffed animal and then gave them each other’s so they’d have something tangible to focus on. Then we started slowly working on separation, using those stuffed animals so they could keep the scent of the other close. It worked, eventually they were able to be apart. I’d like to try the same thing, but to the opposite effect. I’d like you to scent a stuffed animal so it can be used as a sort of symbol, something tangible she can use to represent you.” 

“A way to introduce me into her nest without having me there invading her space.” Price says. 

“Exactly.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Having an alpha’s scent around her might help induce not only that feeling of comfort she needs, but may also help induce those instincts to nest. Doing it this way prevents the risk of discomfort by having an alpha invading her space directly, while still allowing for the introduction of an alpha’s scent.” 

“Alright. What else do you think might help?” Price asks, running his hand over his beard. 

“Another exercise, this one more tactile in nature. This particular one she can do herself, though she may choose to involve you later as she gets more comfortable doing it. I know she’s kneeling for you already, which is fantastic. Some omegas don’t kneel until after being claimed. That she feels comfortable enough to do it already is a good sign. She’s already had these exercises explained to her, but I would like to meet with you both to walk through them again, and in the end, it’s her decision what happens.” Dr. Keller gives him a small smile. “Do you have any questions?” 

“What can be done if these exercises don’t work?” Price asks. 

“There are a couple other things that can be done, though they’re far more invasive. I wouldn’t even suggest them unless she’s showing clear signs of pre-heat symptoms and still hasn’t nested yet. They have their risks, and that’s not something I’m willing to gamble on unless it’s absolutely necessary.” 

Price hums quietly. “Is there anything I could be doing differently to help?” 

“I think you’re both doing fantastic jobs with the hand you’ve been dealt. It’s not an easy situation and the fact she’s made as much progress as she has is remarkable, honestly. My job’s been fairly easy so far. I was expecting a lot worse when Laswell briefed me. That being said, there’s still a long way to go.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Price says, shaking her hand. “You’ve been a big help.” 

“It is my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Remember, I’m always here if you have any questions or concerns. I may be an Omega Specialist, but that also includes the omega’s pack as well.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Price says, giving her a smile. “And I’ll be sure to tell your brother you said hello.” 

Dr. Keller smirks, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, remind him to call his sister every once in a while, while you’re at it.” 

You run your fingers over the soft fur of the teddy bear. Your eyes flutter closed as you let Price’s scent wash over you. You clutch the bear to your chest, wrapping your arms around it tightly as you lounge on your bed. You bury your nose in its fur, breathing in Price’s earthy scent from it. 

A quiet sound begins to rumble in your chest as you hug the bear tightly. A small, content smile pulls at your lips as you curl up in a ball around the bear, purring quietly. 

It’s been so long since you purred. 

You haven’t since you were a pup, still young enough to find safety in your home, before you really understood much of anything that was going on. You only ever purred with your mother, snuggled up in the nest with your siblings, warm and content and safe. 

Your dad never purred. Or, you never heard him do it. You remember the deep growls that rumbled through his chest, the scent of ozone. The warning that made you bristle, even as a pup, that tickling feeling at the back of your neck almost like your brain knew years before you even presented. 

You wrap your arms tighter around the bear, letting Price’s scent flood your mind and wipe away the fear, the feelings, the emotions mixing together. Price isn’t like that. He was so willing to help you, to jump in and do what it took to make the best of a situation that neither of you had a say in. Just an alpha and an omega bound to duty, forced to follow what someone else says. How very much alike your lives are, and yet, so vastly different. 

That’s why you’ve found comfort in him so quickly, you think. You understand him. He may be a captain, he may be pack alpha, he may be a leader, but he’s not in control. Not completely. There’s still someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings, telling him where to go, what to do. Someone’s pointing him in a direction and it’s his duty to follow. 

You were never going to be in control. You were born a subordinate, and you had been cursed to always be one by your presentation. Your entire life would be dictated for you, by someone telling you what to be, how to act, where to go, what to do. There would always be expectations for you, someone behind the scenes pulling the strings. 

Your presence here is full of expectation. You weren’t just bonding with a pack as your duty, there was expectation for it. You had been sent here with a purpose, leading an initiative that could shape the future of many omegas to come. You’re not just an omega chosen by a pack that wants one. 

You’re part of a government initiative. Your whole purpose is to see if adding an omega to a pack of highly trained soldiers really will improve their effectiveness and proficiency. 

Falling in love with them is just a side effect of your own mission. 

Love might be a strong word for it. It wouldn’t matter to those watching your progress if you hated them. You’re supposed to bond with them, be their omega. Prove that it’s worth it, that the strengths weigh out the potential vulnerabilities. Then hundreds of omegas stuck in institutes will be trained to follow in your footsteps. 

You wouldn’t wish this on anyone. 

You’re lucky they’ve been so good to you. You’re lucky you’re beginning to feel it, those spaces in the back of your mind that have been empty for years beginning to fill as your omega comes to accept her pack. The betas anchoring your omega, the alphas surrounding and protecting. 

You'll do your duty. You'll bond with them. You'll mate with Price. You'll allow him to claim you. You'll be their good little omega. 

It won't be the worst life. 

They at least care about you. Gaz and Soap have shown interest in you and mating with you themselves. Ghost...you've got a long way to go with him still, but you're beginning to make some headway into earning his acceptance. 

Price...Price has begun to show some interest as well. You've knelt for him, kissed him, allowed him into your space. He calmed your distress, bought you items to help make your space more comfortable. He scented a stuffed bear to help you nest. 

He'll treat you nicely, or at least you hope he will. He'll lose himself to his rut when you go into heat, and you've heard plenty of horror stories. You know what to expect, from the best to the worst. You could come out the other side mated and content, or you could come out half mauled to death. There's no way of knowing. Price will be a slave to his instincts just as much as you will be. 

You don't want it to be like that. 

You don't want your first encounter with the opposite sex to be lost to the haze of your heat, something that could potentially put your life at risk. How long has it been since Price has had an omega? You know he has. He's too calm, too collected around you to never have had experience with one before. 

Will he treat you well? How will he touch you? You can't imagine him as being a selfish lover, but you won't know. You won't know until you're dazed with lust as your body yearns for release, for an alpha's knot. 

You could find out beforehand. 

The thought has you sitting up in your bed. You could pursue that with Price before your heat starts. There's no rule that says you can't before your heat. You know there's omegas that don't wait. There's alphas that don't wait when omegas join their packs. Price could have taken you that first day if he really wanted to. 

Would he have bent you over his desk? Done it in his room or yours? Would he have done it in the meeting room in front of the rest of the pack? Staked his claim like some primal alpha?

The thought has warmth pooling in your stomach. The mental image of Price taking you in front of the others, sinking his teeth into your neck as he stakes his claim, marking you as his. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, clenching your thighs together. 

You could ask. What's the worst he's going to say? No? You'll just retreat in shame and hide out until your heat begins in embarrassment. He was so willing to do what you wanted, what you asked of him. Would he say yes if you asked him? If that's really what you wanted? Does he want it? Does he want you? 

All you have to do is ask. You're allowed to want things, to desire things. Everything you've asked for so far, you've gotten. 

The heat between your legs only confirms it. You want this. 

You want Price. 

Your hands are shaking as you reach for the door handle. He had given you permission to enter already, but your nerves make it feel like you’re moving in slow motion as you wrap your fingers around the nob, turning and pushing inwards. His eyes are on you as you slip in, closing the door behind you. You can’t read his face as he sits there, staring at you in your baggy shirt and leggings. 

“What’s eating you, pup?” He asks as he stares at you, watching you fidget nervously.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting your weight between your feet. 

He reaches out a hand, motioning you closer. You approach his desk slowly, taking his outstretched hand. He guides you in front of him, lifting you to sit on the desk. He leans back in his seat, staring up at you. “You can ask me anything.” 

You bite your lip, staring down at him. His hands come to rest on the edge of the desk on either side of you. It’s comforting, supportive, instead of constricting as it might have felt just two weeks ago. It only furthers your belief that you’re making the right choice, that this is what you want. 

You stare down into his eyes, your hands coming to rest just beside his on the desk. “I want my first time with you to be before my heat.” The words come spilling out quickly, almost so quickly you’re not sure he caught them. 

He stares at you, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he’s back to the straight-faced captain again. “You’re sure?” 

You nod. “I want to remember the first time. It’ll make me feel better after we...have to do it. I think...it’ll help me feel less like...I had to.” 

Price moves just slightly closer to you, understanding shining in his eyes. “If that's what you really want.”

You nod, sliding your hands until they're resting on top of his. “It is.”

He turns his hands so can hold yours. “Saturday, then. Let me make you dinner and then we'll go from there.” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, skin tingling as his thumbs rub the backs of your hands. “You want to wine and dine me first?” You ask playfully. 

“Call me old fashioned.” He smirks. 

“Maybe just old.” You mutter, shrieking out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his lap. The chair creaks precariously but you know he'd break your fall.

“You want to take that back?” He murmurs, your face inches from his. 

“Depends on what my punishment will be.” You say, your nose almost brushing his. 

He chuckles deep in his chest, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You'll have to wait for Saturday to find out.” 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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[heartlogan]

all coming back to me

✮— logan x f!reader (set in x-men days of future past)

✮— summary: logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

✮— a/n: first time writing for logan / the xmen films, be gentle pls. also wrote this in like 20 mins at 1am so kindness pls. ok goodnight.

✮— warnings: character death, major character death, (mentioned mostly, not the most graphic depictions), logan’s relentless guilt, reader’s insensitive curiosity, muddled timeline maybe idk, mutant reader (unmentioned power) , kind of abrupt ending , lmk if there’s more!

MASTERLIST

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

When Logan had realised he was the only viable candidate to do this job, he had felt the immense weight on his shoulders, had known that he had no choice but to succeed. He had been prepared for that part, mostly. But even still, the plan was sudden, and he hadn’t thought most things through. After all, Logan was more of a fight now, think later type of guy.

So waking up in some random woman’s waterbed was unexpected, yes, but even more unexpected was the bone cutting through his skin when he had to face those goons. It had been so long since the adamantium had been melded to his skeleton, that he could almost forget it hadn’t always been that way. If it weren’t for the pain that still haunted his every nightmare, that was.

It was an adjustment, definitely, especially because it had been so long since he hadn’t felt completely indestructible — untouchable. There was no metal safety net, here.

Seeing Xavier’s school falling apart was certainly an adjustment, too.

He had known this school only in its prime, when Charles had already formed the X-Men, had already settled many kids into their new home. Logan couldn’t ever imagine this place being so devoid of life.

“Can I help you?” A young man asked, after a few silent moments of Logan waiting for the door to be answered. He sounded vaguely familiar.

“Uh… yeah, what happened to the school?” Logan asked, eyebrows raised as his eyes trailed over the vines crawling up the building, the dust coating the glass.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Logan strangely before he decided to speak. “The school’s been shut for years. Are you a parent?”

Logan scoffed. “I sure as hell hope not. Who are you?”

“I’m Hank. Hank McCoy. I look after the house now.”

He’s doing a great job at that, Logan thought to himself, surveying the damaged grounds, before he clocked on to what the man had introduced himself as. He squinted at the small stature of the guy, half hidden by the door he was pressing himself into the gap of.

“You’re Beast? Look at you,” Logan commented idly, “Guess you’re a late bloomer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank warned, features hardening instantly at the name he hadn’t heard for a long time. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man started closing the door in Logan’s face, not expecting him to shove himself against it, keeping it open. They strained, muscles tensing on both sides, before Logan inevitably won without Hank’s extra strength that accompanied his transformation.

“Where’s the professor?”

“There’s no professor here.” Hank responded, before Logan soon managed to shove the door open, flinging him back.

“Professor!” Logan yelled into the empty house, hearing his voice rebound off of the walls. The echoing made him uncomfortable, and seeing the house that had been destroyed so long ago in his time was odd. It was familiar, and yet so different. Logan wasn’t sure he could ever get used to the empty manor, despite his many complaints about the kids at the school.

The moment Logan began to ascend the stairs of the manor, Hank leapt at him, freshly transformed. Logan was momentarily shocked by the appearance of his blue fur, but he quickly got over it, defending himself from Hank’s admittedly rather weak attack. The Beast managed to stun him, tackling him onto a table in the middle of the foyer, while the blue man hung from the chandelier above.

“Hank?” A voice called out, confused and slightly concerned. “What’s going on here?” He asked, descending the stairs and squinting down at the vaguely familiar man on top of his table.

“Professor?” Logan asked, surprised, sitting up on the table to make sure he was seeing things right.

“He doesn’t like to be called that.” A new voice said, coming from Logan’s left, and he startled, head whipping towards where you were standing. You were leant against the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched the situation unfold with unhidden entertainment.

His heart practically stops.

He hadn’t seen you for almost three years. Three very long, very difficult years.

Logan didn’t even want to think about the last time he had seen you. It had been one of the worst days of his life to date, and he’d had a lot of bad days. And yet, here you were, alive. Trying to tamp down your amusement, though it was written clearly on your face, evident in the slight curve of a smile that he had missed.

“You know this guy?” Hank asked Charles, who made his way down the rest of the stairs while Logan only continued to stare at you.

Charles looked at Logan with a vague sense of recognition. “Yeah, he looks slightly familiar.” He commented distantly, already appearing completely checked out of the situation. “Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank.”

The sound of the glass above him clinking together brought Logan to his senses, reminded him that he had a job to do. And no matter how much he had missed you, your presence couldn’t get in the way of that.

“You can walk.” Logan stated, checking back into the conversation with shock still darting down his spine. He watched the Professor carefully, brows furrowed in thought.

“And you’re perceptive.” Charles replied dryly, “Which makes it slightly perplexing that you missed our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend. I’m going to have to ask him to ask you to leave.” He said, nodding towards Hank who stared between the two men as if watching some sort of tennis match. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation occurring. “Or her, if you’re more inclined.”

You raised your brows.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Logan didn’t end up leaving, much to your surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to get Charles to do anything he didn’t want to do. Hell, it had been a long time since anyone had managed to speak to the man, save for you and Hank. He turned everybody away, never heard anyone out, no matter how desperate they sounded.

Instead, Charles seemed to accept the fact that this man was from the future. A future which sounded dire, by the way.

And if his glance towards you when he had spoken about watching good people, friends, die, told you anything, it was that you didn’t make it very far in the future. Which didn’t faze you all too much. It didn’t sound like much of a future for those who lived, anyway. But that knowledge had taught you something about this Logan. He had cared for you, some years from now.

It was as clear as day. He looked at you like he had been missing you, like he was greeting you at the airport after a long trip. He seemed to think he was being discreet about it, always glancing away when you turned to him, but you were observant.

You sidled up next to him while Hank went on the hunt for the phone book, and Charles wandered off to regret his decision.

“So, how’d I die?” You asked, feeling bad but also slightly amused when Logan practically choked on air.

“What? How did you—”

“Oh, please. It’s all over your face. I may not know you, but I can see that much.” You responded, cutting him off and watching the cogs turn in his head.

You had always had a strange way of reading him better than anyone else. Not that this version of you knew that, but Logan did. It made his chest ache all the more, feeling like you were so close to being in his grasp, and yet so far away from him. He had to remind himself that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t exactly know this version of you.

You seemed… not happier, exactly, but something was different. Perhaps you had suffered less at this point in your life. He had met you in one of the most difficult times you had ever been through, and it was strange to see you without the baggage that had followed you from that.

“I’m that transparent, huh?” He replied, going quiet soon after. He didn’t want to talk about this with you. With anyone. He didn’t want to relive that moment any more than he already did. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, every time the Sentinels had approached in the future.

“You are.” You paused. “So? What happened?”

“You don’t want to know about this, kid.” Logan stated, pointedly not looking at you. You were so young now, and he missed the lines on your face. This wasn’t the you that he knew or loved. He didn’t know this version of you. And you certainly didn’t know him.

Logan had the fate of the world resting on his shoulders, the fate of every mutant and human who had the decency to be kind towards them. Your fate. The fate of everyone else he had lost. He couldn’t get caught up in this, in seeing you here, as much as he wanted to soak in the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin.

“Why not? We’re going to save the world anyway. It can’t hurt.” You said innocently, regretting the latter part of your statement the moment you realised how it came across, how Logan’s face creased.

He wanted to appreciate your optimism, mostly because he knew how much of it you had lost by the time you died, but you couldn’t understand. It did hurt. Logan had watched you die in front of his very eyes, his adamantium and courage powerless to stop it. He had been dragged back to the jet, forced to leave your body there to rot, or to be taken and experimented on. He didn’t know which was worse.

Even now, he could feel the pressure on his chest from Storm pushing against him, the pain of Magneto pulling at his skeleton, forcing him to leave you behind.

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, eyes flickered across the room, never quite landing on you. It hurt him every day. He could feel the weight of your loss even now, knowing that if he failed to do this, you were lost. This version of you, the one who had so much suffering to come, would die at the hands of a Sentinel, and he would be powerless to stop it.

“Sorry,” You said, when the silence stretched on, Logan seemingly getting lost in his own thoughts. You could see the pain written across his face, could see him getting distant, reliving whatever had happened in the future. “That was insensitive. I was curious, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here to save us all. And I’m here to help this time.”

He finally looked at you, and you could see the exhaustion on his face. Perhaps putting more pressure on him wasn’t the best idea.

“Okay, I’m messing this up,” You admittedly, fidgeting nervously now, eyes flickering between him and the door as if expecting Charles or Hank to walk in on you embarrassing yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan paused, apparently trying to find his words. “You don’t need t’be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

You looked at him, seeing him more clearly then. You didn’t know his past, and you certainly didn’t know the future, but this man cared about you. That much was obvious. “It’s not yours either, you know.” You said, and the slight grimace he made didn’t escape you. He clearly didn’t agree. “However we know each other in the future, it can’t change the fact that I am an adult. I would never expect you to take responsibility for me dying. Or want you to! I take care of myself.”

He blinked at you. “We were meant to take care of each other.”

You faltered slightly at that, struggling to imagine yourself relying on someone that much, but then you understood.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? You’re here, fifty years into the past, trying to make things right. The war wasn’t your fault, Logan.”

Despite knowing that was true, it still didn’t quite dislodge the guilt that pulsed in his chest. He felt more vulnerable here, without his adamantium. With your prying eyes. Even now, it appeared that you saw him in a way nobody else ever could.

“You know what? This might be totally inappropriate, but…” You trailed off, and he had just opened his mouth to question you when suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing him close in a way that finally let him breathe again.

His hands hung idly by his sides for a few moments, before finally wrapping around you, holding you tight. He seemed as though he may never let you go, but you could understand that. Logan was in pain, and it seemed that despite your slight uncertainty, this had been a good path to go down. Taking care of one another, or something like that, right?

A heavy sigh left his chest, and you squeezed him tighter, letting out a short breath into his neck. You only pulled away when you heard Hank’s footsteps creaking on the aged floorboards, heading your way. Logan let you go, with much reluctance, but you lingered. Your arm brushed against his jacket.

If Hank noticed anything, he didn’t say a word, simply holding up the phone book victoriously. You glanced at Logan, watching the creases slowly come back to his face as he was reminded of his burden once more. You leaned against him the slightest bit, and pretended not to notice him glance at you.

This would all work out, you were certain of it. And if it didn’t, well, at the very least there was something to look forward to in that bleak future. Logan seemed worth the pain.

[obsesssedblerd]

“Just give up, Fushiguro.” The tallest kid of the group says, crossing his arms over his chest and flashing Megumi a grin. “There’s five of us and only one of you. There’s no way you’d win.” On either side of the bully, four more kids snickered, practically salivating over the idea of outnumbering him. 

Megumi sighs irritatedly. This is why he hates staying after school. On one hand, he’d be the first one to greet Yuuji once he’s done with his sports practice, but on the other hand, he’d end up getting into more altercations since he’d made quite a bit of enemies at his school. Your face floats in his mind, along with you worriedly asking him to promise that he wouldn’t fight anymore. 

Suddenly, the leader’s smile drops, and the five of them take a couple of fearful steps back as their gazes drift upwards. Two tall shadows loom over Megumi, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s there. 

“Well, well,” Toji, his father, says with a lazy smile, then looks over at the man in his mid-twenties next to him. “Looks like you weren’t exaggerating after all. He really is fighting multiple students each time.” 

Satoru Gojo chuckles, then ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Told ya. And he hasn’t lost a single fight. However, anyone can tell that he’s holding back.” 

“Oh?” Toji raises a brow curiously, then taps his son’s shoulder. “That true? You’ve been holdin’ back?” 

Megumi turns around and meets his eyes. He nods once, and Toji gestures to the five kids. “Wanna stop?” 

The boy frowns. “I’ll get expelled.” 

“Trust me.” Satoru peers at him over his glasses, his blue eyes shining mischievously as he reassures him with his usual grin. “You won’t. Suguru’s already at the front desk taking care of it. I’ll head up there in a second to make sure everything’s going smoothly. Go on and handle it, kid.” 

His eyes widen slightly, and then he looks over at his father again. Toji’s scarred mouth lifts into a small, vicious smile, granting permission. “You heard your teacher.”

Megumi nods, faces the bullies with a similar smile, and cracks his knuckles.

—

“Hey there, Mrs. Fushiguro!” Satoru Gojo greets you when you walk into the school’s front office. Next to him, Suguru Geto gives you a friendly wave. “Picking up Tsumiki? Wow, you’re kinda early!” 

“Uh, yeah… What’re you two doing here? I know that Megumi is supposed to meet you both at Jujutsu Tech since Yuuji wanted to hang out after practice.” 

Satoru and Suguru laugh nervously, and you squint your eyes at them. Something’s up. “What did you two do this time?” You ask.

“...Nothing.” 

“Nothing at all!”

The doors to the principal’s office open, and you gasp loudly when you see five students sniffling as they walk out with their parents. All five of them were teary-eyed if not sobbing, bruised and holding ice packs to different parts of their bodies. Once they’ve left the school, you hear familiar voices. 

“Did you see how the last one ran?” Megumi snickers as he shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Yup.” Toji laughs. “And you didn’t let him get far. That’s my boy! Let’s talk about how you tossed that one kid into the other and they hit the wall. Did Gojo teach you that one?” 

“Actually, I watched you handle—” Upon seeing you, Megumi stops in his tracks, and he gulps nervously. “Hi, Mom.” 

Toji’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, and Satoru clears his throat. “Let’s look at the bright side here. He won’t be expelled or even suspended! It’s like the whole thing didn’t happen.” 

You ignore them and sigh at the sight of Megumi’s reddened knuckles. “Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t fight anymore? Your hands—” 

“Are strong enough to take out multiple enemies,” Toji says, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “We’re very proud of him. Can you imagine what he’ll do when he starts curse-hunting? His training is paying off.” 

You glare at him. “That’s true, but don’t try and– Mm…” Your mind goes completely blank when your husband gently kisses you. Behind you, Toji gestures to the three of them to leave now. 

When you hear footsteps shuffling away and the door closing, you pull away from Toji’s mouth and whirl around, groaning when you see that your son and his two teachers are gone. You turn back around to face him, and he smiles charmingly. “This isn’t over,” you tell him. 

“I know, I know.” He kisses your forehead, then chuckles. “You can lecture me after we grab Tsumiki and go for ice cream.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE BLUE OF THE SKY MUST HAVE BEEN MY IMAGINATION ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can’t take your grief away. but on days when you feel as if it’s swallowing you whole, pulling you underwater, he’ll be there to reach a hand out.

word count; 10.9k 

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (gn prns are used, but gojo calls you sweet girl and princess), depictions of grief/allusions to death (reader mourns their dead best friend), hurt/comfort (heavy on both), fluffy towards the end, satoru is a good partner <3, stsg subtext if you squint, switching povs, reader is implied to be a non-sorcerer!!

a/n; i’ve always loved the idea of gojo being with a reader who also lost their best friend/other half, so this is just me playing around with that concept :3 losing a soulmate and finding a new one through the loss of that thread must feel really meaningful, right? + i’m also dedicating this piece to @neptuneblue my precious bday girl <33 i added an extra dose of devotion, flower symbolism and greek mytho refs just for you!! (pretty dividers by @/saradika-graphics <33)

a pang of sorrow.

as your consciousness begins to unfurl, cruelly torn apart from the realm of dreams, the sensation hits you like a hammer to a nail. your eyes flutter open, and your muddled mind adjusts to the soft light dyeing your bedroom a mellow gold — patches of sunlight splattering on the bed and warming up your skin, illuminating your features. gentle and soothing.

almost as if trying to coax you back to sleep; trying to protect you from something you don’t quite understand. just close your eyes, your body whispers, your mind shushes. don’t think about anything at all. 

but you don’t listen. 

part of you knows it’s a mistake. trying to identify the source of your sadness usually only makes your heart feel more tangled up — but you get the sense that this particular sorrow is one you should never, ever let go of. so you rest against the mattress, focus on the rise and fall of your chest, and simply feel it out. 

it’s a strange sensation. blooming like a flower, in the back of your brain, expanding at an alarming rate — seeping into your bloodstream, soaking the sheets beneath you with something dark and gritty, something that sends shivers down your spine. an acute sensation that something is wrong. 

that something has been wrong. for a very long time.

(and then it hits you.)

— ah.

an intake of breath. the open air has been warmed up by caring sunrays, bouncing off the glass of the windows. it tastes like dust and daydreams.

it’s today, isn’t it?

the flower in the back of your brain keeps unfurling, leaving you with a certain ache you can’t get rid of. a stain you can never, ever rinse away — and the sun’s comforting embrace does nothing to quell its weight.

what a shame, you think, gazing out at the blue of the sky. the weather is so lovely today…

something tickles your cheek. it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts; and this time, you don’t need to feel it out to know what it is. you’re already well aware. your brain knows, your body, every string of your heartbeat.

a strand of white hair. ghosting over your cheek, causing you to stir. 

two big arms are looped around your midriff, heavy and slumbering, practically immovable. you’ve tried to peel them off more times than you can count, but they just won’t budge — if anything, that only makes him cling to you tighter. subconsciously or otherwise. 

(you suspect it’s the latter, on most days.)

as always, you’re pressed up against him, close as can be. completely enveloped by his scent and body warmth, strawberries and stardust, cocooned in the safety his touch brings you — like a big, weighted blanket. or maybe more like a clingy dog.

and, despite everything… it manages to cheer you up a little. doing what the delicate caress of sunlight couldn’t. just feeling him close is enough for the corners of your lips to curl up, a warmth trying to take root in your hollowed out chest; feeling his heart beat against your own, in steady motions.

satoru. your very own personal sun.

he’s admittedly cute like this, soft little breaths slipping from his parted lips, quiet snores that he’d deny if you ever brought them up — his jaw resting contentedly on the top of your head. it’s sweet. he’s sweet. but the feeling of his hair tickling your skin is a little insufferable.

insufferable, but still somehow so endearing. 

(you’ll probably always find him endearing, no matter what he does. maybe you should feel embarrassed.)

when you crane your neck, glancing up at the man in question — your breath hitches. halts, in the back of your throat. afraid to come too close. 

satoru is always pretty, but there’s something so serene about the way he looks in the morning. before he has a chance to wake up, cover up, make himself seem bigger than he is. right now, he looks so unguarded; so sleepy and pretty and comfortable. specks of sunlight scatter across that pretty face of his, like little freckles, caressing his skin with a heavenly glow. 

it really is such a shame. the sun is shining brightly, waving hello to the newly-awakened city, and your own personal sun is right by your side. snuggled up with you, and looking prettier than ever. 

but neither of those blessings are enough to change the inevitability of what day it is, today. you feel a little bad; but you know what you have to do. 

just to see the limitations, you squirm away — or try to. you don’t even move an inch. satoru’s got you trapped, caged in by his strong arms, like he’s making sure to protect you even in his dreams. a big, overprotective bear.

wanting not to rouse him from his peaceful slumber, you can’t bring yourself to make much of an effort, either. your hands travel down to the expanse of his arms, wrapped around your midriff, gentle and light as you try to tug them off. but he won’t relent so easily — the moment you succeed even slightly, those insistent arms fall back in position. only trapping you further. 

after your fifth attempt bears no fruit, satoru lets out a low groan; shifting closer, and hugging you just a little tighter. muttering under his breath.

so you resort to a different tactic.

when you finally get a proper look at him, craning your neck as far as you can, your eyes soften. his expression makes your heart melt; sleepy and snug, and just a tad annoyed. because of your numerous escape attempts, no doubt. 

he’s so beautiful it hurts. just a little, just to look at him, just to map out every contour of his angelic face. 

so you feel a little guilty. you really don’t want to wake him up, when he so rarely gets to sleep in like this — and he’s been working so hard, lately. doing his usual sorcerer thing, that he never lets you know too much about. the guilt seeps into your bones, growing deeper with every second spent etching his soft expression into your memory, knowing just how tired he must be.

it’s not like you really have a choice, though.

leaning closer, so close you can hear his heartbeat if you strain your ears enough, you put your lips against his skin. he smells like strawberries, from the shampoo he always steals from you, and he’s pleasantly warm. like a confectionary.

a moment passes. you drag it out as long as you can, indulging in the sweet fragrance.

then you begin trailing kisses up his jaw, ghosting over his skin. soft little butterflies, fluttering from his jaw to his cheekbone.. once you get close enough to see the way his eyelashes flutter, and he stirs ever so slightly, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

”satoru,” you murmur. ”just need to go to the bathroom. can you let go for a little bit, please?” 

you try your best to speak as quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb him too much — but you can tell he hears you, even in the state he’s in. all tuckered out, his muddled mind still registering the sound of your voice, how you move your lips to form sounds. a lullaby to his sleep-ridden brain.

bringing a hand up to his forehead, you brush his bangs away with palpable tenderness, leaving a kiss against his forehead. satoru stirs, again; letting out a sleepy noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a whine. squeezing his eyes shut.

”honey,” you coo, hoping the term of endearment will get his attention. ”let go, please? i’ll be quick.”

satoru’s eyes blink open, slowly, like the shutter of a camera. you wish you could take a picture of him, right now — in all his angelic glory, painted over with warm colours and tangled up in freshly washed bedsheets. 

he takes a moment to adjust, unaccustomed to the bright morning light of your bedroom, face scrunching up — then his gaze falls on you.

and his heartbeat picks up.

you’re looking up at him so sweetly, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, smooth skin against his own. the cerulean of his eyes flutter shut once more, as he nuzzles into your palm; moving one of his arms from your waist, just so he can place his palm over yours, where it rests against his skin. absentminded.

a smile crawls up to your lips. 

”… mm,” is all he manages, an incoherent little mumble. you make another attempt at getting away, only one of his arms caging you in now, but it still doesn’t work. the moment he feels you even try, he tugs you even closer. arm keeping you nice and safe in his embrace. 

satoru makes sure that his palm is still resting over yours when he leans forward, snuggles further into your side. nuzzling into your neck, pressing his lips against your collarbone, muffling a low whine.

”stay,” he murmurs, sleepy and upset, and you almost give in. he’s still too tired to really register what’s happening, only that you’re trying to leave him. 

it makes your chest ache.

a soft sigh leaves your lips. ah, this really is too cruel. how are you supposed to ever leave his embrace when he’s acting like this?

”satoru…” your free hand finds its way to his hair, carding through the pure white strands, and he practically purrs. ”just gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay? i’ll hurry.”

another incoherent mumble. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to. still kissing your collarbone, content to have you run your fingers through his soft locks.

and you feel awful, you do — but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

as you feel him slowly, gradually fall back asleep under your caring touches… you opt to make your move. this time, you’re a little rougher — tugging his arm off and squirming away before he can think to stop you. it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially with the whine satoru lets out, arms blindly reaching out towards you — to no avail. you’re sure the loss of body warmth hits him just as hard as it does you.

an urgent voice inside your chest begs you to soothe him, to console him. seeing the little pout on his pretty lips, the furrow of his brow. 

so you lean over, carefully, cupping his cheek to leave a soft kiss against his forehead. a silent apology. ”i’ll be back soon, toru. go back to sleep, okay?” you hope he feels your love, in the action, in the words. even if he’s not really conscious enough to properly respond. 

just in case he doesn’t, you state your feelings more transparently. thumb caressing his cheekbone, as a whisper flows from out your lips: ”i love you.”

maybe it’s just your imagination, or a coincidence, but you swear he settles down a little after that. succumbing to the needs of his sleepy brain, still a little groggy and frustrated; but soothed enough to rest easy. so far, so good. caught up with thoughts of satoru, and how tiny he looks all alone in the big bed, your brain momentarily forgets about the sorrow. 

but the moment you step out of the bedroom, it’s there to greet you again. creeping up on you — a subtle, gentle kind of shock. almost kind. but hollow and cold, like the temperature of the room dropped, your almost-smile fading like a piece of paper blown away by the wind.

and suddenly, you remember what day it is. you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

as you brew your morning cup of coffee, trying to distract yourself with the purring of the espresso machine in front of you, you find your thoughts drifting back to satoru. hoping he’ll manage to stay asleep, despite your interference — it’s his first day off in a while. he needs to rest. 

… and you don’t really know if you could deal with him, if he were to wake up and locate you right now. you can imagine what he’d say, what his expression would be like; and you can imagine the exact moment he’d realize that something is wrong, how easily he’d be able to squeeze the answers out of you. you’re weak to satoru. you’d tell him immediately, just to get him to stop frowning that subtle way he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want you to know. 

which is exactly why this is your only option. sneaking away while he’s asleep, blissfully unaware, even if the guilt eats at your heart. you suppose it’s a welcome distraction. 

(today was going to feel awful, one way or another.)

everything feels a little like a struggle; putting your coat on, stepping into your shoes, making sure you have everything you need. and then, lastly, the note. satoru leaves them for you fairly often, on days he has to go to work early and doesn’t want to wake you, before late night missions and sudden workloads. when the reverse is true, you do the same. just something simple, a little act of love. 

i’ll be back around midnight. don’t wait up for me, okay? 

have a good day. :) 

don’t eat my portion of the kikufuku! i know you’re thinking about it.

i love you. <3

… usually, leaving a little note behind for him to find would make your heart feel light. but today, it’s not nearly as fun. you try your best to sound lighthearted; wholly aware of how ominous the contents still end up sounding.

good morning, satoru ♡  i’m sorry for waking you up before :( and for leaving without saying anything. i have an important errand to run, so i’ll be gone for a while. i’ll make sure i’m back before the sun sets, so just be patient, okay? i know you’re probably really mad, but don’t be too angry with me when i get back, please? i’ll buy you something sweet omw back!! ^^ that’s all, i think. i know how this sounds, but don’t worry. i’ll be back before you know it.  have a good day, alright? enjoy your day off!!  i love you ♡ :)

in all honesty, it’s a little mean. telling satoru not to worry about you is like telling the sun not to shine. he’s confident when he’s with you, thoroughly assured of his ability to protect you… but when you’re out of his sight, you think he gets a little anxious. even if he’s awfully good at hiding it.

still, there’s nothing else to do. you swallow the guilt, stick the note to the fridge, and step over the threshold. out into the real world, the cold world, the empty world. as the sun envelops you, and a spring breeze enters your lungs — that acute awareness strangling you only seems to grow deeper.

everything finally dawns on you, all at once. and it’s impossible to shake away that suffocating feeling —

the feeling that something is wrong.

(that something has been wrong. for a very, very long time.)

the cemetery is empty, this year.

you suspect the glaring sun has something to do with it. blinding you, casting a bright glow over the tombs of the dead, entirely out of place. no one wants to do their mourning in this kind of weather. it just feels wrong. 

that hasn’t stopped you, though. you wonder if it’s due to a love so strong it disregards the weather, or a blatant disregard towards the feelings of the dead. 

maybe both. probably both.

the solitude creeps up on you like a hungry ghost, but it’s a blessing in flimsy disguise; right now, you’re all alone. and today, that’s all you truly need. a feeling almost like stepping into another realm, one with no connection to things like reality or time. it’s just you, and the graves, and the ghosts. there’s no one here to see you cry, no one who can pretend like they understand. no one to witness the price you’ve paid for loving so fervently. 

slowly, you make your way across the cemetery. sparing a glance towards the city skyline, before fixing your eyes on one particular tomb. 

when you crouch down, the paper bag in your hand hits the ground with a soft crunch. all flowers are still in perfect condition; asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hyacinths. you cradle them tightly, pressed against your chest, feeding off your weakening heartbeat — your eyes moving, flitting over the grave, the name engraved into the stone. putting the bouquet down.

(you really hope she’ll like them.)

it’s surreal. to look at an object and still see a person, to touch the petals of a flower and remember the softness of human skin. you never quite got used to it. all you ever seem to do is lean into the strangeness of it all, the kick you get out of sullying something untainted. trying to remember something that should be left in the past. you can’t leave her alone.

”hi,” you whisper, so low you barely hear it. ”i’m back.”

with a sigh, you settle down on the ground; sitting cross-legged, getting comfortable. this’ll take a while.

the cherry trees are beautiful, this year. they always are; always in full bloom, almost mocking in their beauty. with their silky petals, fallen all across the ground, dyeing everything in shades of white and pink. as your eyes trail across the flowery landscape, basking in the sickening solitude of it all, that sense of otherworldliness deepens. you try not to look at the blinding sun, try not to think of the man it reminds you of. 

it’s just you, here. just you, the graves, and the cherry trees. just you, and her, and your sorrow.

for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that it’s true — you’re in a different world, now. one that settles on the wrong axis and paints itself with the wrong colours. one that stopped spinning long ago.

(the tender stirring of your heartstrings never fades away. it sounds a little like a hymn.)

all you can think of is her. all you can feel is the grief. that hole in your heart, extending, extending, extending. it hasn’t stopped since she left. a black hole of a feeling. it’s been years since it opened, years of trying to patch it up, clawing your way to a state of normalcy. living with a piece of you carved out. 

losing your other half feels a little bit like dying in reverse. having to keep going with half your shadow stripped away, out of the tunnel, into the light. even if you’d much rather fall to the bottom, with your silhouette still intact.

(throughout the years, you’ve come to a single conclusion; orpheus had it so much worse than eurydice.)

despite everything, a smile curls its way onto your lips. something soft and fleeting, that blossoms within your irises, in between your ribs. she doesn’t answer you, as always, so you keep talking — anything to still feel connected to her. anything to fill the silence of the cemetery, the numbed out grief inside your chest. 

”let’s see. where should i start…” is muttered into the open air, followed by a moment of silence, as you think of what to say. ”i’m still with satoru, if you were wondering. everything is still… good. more than good. he’s a really, really good guy.”

a moment passes.

”i hope you’re doing okay. wherever you are. if you’re anywhere at all,” soft air leaves your lungs, a little slip of a breath, but it’s shallow, like your chest doesn’t really care if you miss an inhale or not. like just giving and never getting could keep you alive. ”i miss you. a lot. i wish i could see you…” 

a hum buzzes in your throat. you try not to think of her hair, the scent of her perfume. the flower in the back of your brain has grown bigger, you notice. unfurling at an agonizing pace, blossoming the way a wound heals. throat burning, heart aching, you swallow.

(the hole inside your heart feels jagged, like cracked glass seeping into your pancreas. a deep, internal ache.)

when you speak, your voice comes out small. nothing more than a whisper, a flurry of air. there’s an honesty to the words that makes it hard to breathe.

”… everything is so boring without you around.”

a shuddering breath leaves your wobbling lips, and you know it’s coming. you make a halfhearted attempt to keep your voice from breaking, but it doesn’t work. your eyes are already glassy, wetness spilling out, tears getting stuck in your lashes, dripping down your cheeks — you manage a meek chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a broken whimper.

try as you might, her figure never leaves your mind. it’s all you can think of, ingrained into your retinas; a single silhouette, walking ahead of you. a sweet girl, maybe a little mean, but still so gentle. your very own moon, soothing in her confidence. every step she took was like a landmark for you to follow. 

if you strain yourself a little, she appears before you — a polaroid dug out from the depths of your memories. 

in almost microscopic detail, you can see her smile, the way the light reflected off her teeth. you can feel her hand, the way her fingers curled so perfectly around yours. you can see her, hear her, the colour of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. a moonlit girl, who left you all alone — walking ahead of you, always ahead, leaving you behind to catch up. bringing whispered secrets with her, soft bouts of laughter.

your one and only best friend.

(it’s not fair.)

something in you urges you to keep talking. it’s all you have it in you to do. and maybe it’s weird, maybe you’re crazy — to talk to someone who can’t hear you. less than a ghost.

but it’s nice. it’s comforting. it reminds you of the voicemails you would leave each other, on weekends you were both too busy to speak on the phone. her voice always came out a little fractured, from her shitty nuclear bomb of an iphone, but you strained your ears to hear every word she said. you always, always did.

(it was nice.)

so you continue. you tell her everything, and then some more. talking and talking, about you, about her, about satoru. by the time you’re done, the sun is getting ready to descend, painting the sky a bleeding orange. your voice has gone hoarse, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, but your chest feels a little lighter — the hole inside it a little more narrow, not as broken and split and jagged.

”so, well,” you clear your throat, finishing your one-sided conversation; smiling weakly. ”i guess what i’m trying to say is… i loved you this year, too.”

the smile on your face is tearstained, feeble, as you get back up on shaky legs, brushing petals and dust off the fabric of your pants. stretching your arms out.

”i’ll be back,” you promise, the same oath every single year. ”wait for me.”

one last look at her grave is all you allow yourself; soaking in the peace and quiet, the creamsicle sky framing it. parting with this sight always feels so strange. crossing the boundary, going back to a world where she’s dead and gone. discarding her so callously.

but you can’t keep satoru waiting, anymore. you promised him you’d get back before sunset.

when you begin your descent down the hill, you can’t help but look back — just one look, just in case she’s standing there. she never is, but you still spare a glance over your shoulder, every single time. you like to think of it as an act of love. 

it doesn’t feel as all-consuming, anymore, that exhausting numbness. the sorrow is still there, the grief is still there; but it’s a little less unendurable. and you feel that you can return to reality for another year, until you need to come back and cry some more.

for now, you can manage. 

(but you still have one big obstacle to deal with.)

it doesn’t take long to get back. 

as your fingers curl around the doorknob, you mentally prepare yourself. taking a shaky inhale. satoru definitely won’t be happy — you can already picture the frown he’ll have on his face, his crossed arms. the neverending flurry of huffs and scoffs. 

you’ll just have to bear with it. exhaustion crawls beneath your skin, and everything feels a little too heavy for you to bear without breaking. normally, you’d head straight to bed, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to coax the day into ending early. but you can’t pull something like that, today. not when satoru will be there to see it. you can only hope he’ll be understanding — even without knowing anything. 

(such an unfair thing to ask of a person.)

the door creaks open, and you step inside.

a particular scent engulfs you, as soon as you cross the threshold to your apartment. a blend between sunlight, and the fabric softener he likes, and freshly squeezed fruit juice. and, of course, that certain aroma you can only ever describe as home. 

it smells like satoru, too. then again, maybe that’s just the scent of home in disguise.

finally, the weight around your shoulders starts to crumble. it’s a little easier to breathe, like this, a weighted blanket of comfort around you. something sweet and soothing and smelling lightly of rosemary. peace — or as close to it as you can get, today.

a sigh pushes past your lips; heavy with fatigue. dripping with relief.

(you’re home.)

”well, well, well.”

— a moment passes.

the sudden noise makes you freeze up, eyes wide and alert, still in the process of kicking off your shoes. internally wincing, bracing yourself. here it comes. 

slowly, hesitantly, you raise your gaze from the floor — locking eyes with a certain man. 

satoru looks displeased, to say the very least. arms crossed, with a cute little frown playing on his lips. just as you imagined. you can’t see his eyes from behind his shades — but if you could, you’re sure they’d carry a sense of betrayal. 

”… hi, sato —”

”i can’t believe you.”

an amused breath slips from your lips. amused, but sheepish, awfully nervous. like you just came home to an angry wife, after promising to be back early from work. and satoru only huffs, staring you down like you just killed his dog.

”betrayed. deserted. by my own partner,” he scoffs, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ”what, are you done with your errand now?”

”satoru,” you try, voice falling into a melodic lilt. smiling up at him, inching closer. to your surprise, he takes a step back.

(you must have really upset him.)

a sad smile. you exhale, wringing your hands together. ”… i’m sorry i left you.”

”you should be,” he pouts, voice wounded to a degree that must be at least a little bit exaggerated. ”and you said you were just going to the bathroom.”

you let out a small, guilty chuckle. he remembers that? ”i’m really sorry. i left you the note, though…”

”right. the note,” satoru scoffs, like the word itself is personally offensive. ”d’you know how awful i felt, seeing that first thing in the morning? no sign of you anywhere, and some silly note is supposed to make up for it?” 

oh, he’s being so unfair. looking so disgruntled, tapping the pads of his fingers on his elbow. you wish you could take him seriously, but he’s way too endearing. and he won’t let you get a word in.

”i was so worried. i thought someone had kidnapped you.” satoru doesn’t let up, even when an amused chuckle leaves your lips. ”you turned your phone off and everything! what were you even doing?”

”i know, i know. i’m sorry, really. i am!” you hang up your coat, brushing off a leftover cherry petal. ”it was a personal thing, like i said. but i dealt with everything now, so it’s fine.”

”that’s not an answer,” he mutters. ”you’re really not gonna tell me?”

a pang of guilt hits your heart. 

”… sorry,” you murmur, low and feeble. avoiding his gaze. ”some other time, okay?”

satoru only lets out another spiteful scoff, arms still crossed. you wonder if he’s holding himself back from hugging you, or if he really is so angry with you that he doesn’t want you near him.

”look, toru —” you try, again, molding your voice into something soft and sweet. ”i’m really sorry. i won’t do it again, okay? and i’ll make it up to you.” 

you hold up a paper bag, waving it slightly to get his attention. you can tell that it works. ”look. i got you your favorite pastries.”

satoru’s frown remains, despite the sweet treats. he must be angrier than you thought. ”really? you think some cookies will be enough to make things right?” 

so stubborn. you suppose it’s warranted, though. you know how satoru is — if you’re not by his side for an extended amount of time, he starts to mope. after a while, he starts feeling lonely. 

and then, finally, he starts to get anxious.

he’s told you, before, how much these days mean to him; days when the two of you can stay in and relax, and watch silly tv shows, and cook dinner, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. days when he can just be your toru, and no one else. your personal splotch of sunshine.

of course he’d be upset. 

(you really are cruel, keeping him in the dark like this.)

seeing him so grumpy makes you oddly happy, though. just his presence makes that suffocating feeling in your chest feel a little more bearable, easing the burden on your restless heart. he makes you feel vulnerable.

with a thud, the paper bag drops to the floor. you open up your arms, like a blooming flower, a sheepish little smile on your lips. ”i missed you?”

the words are tinted with honey, sweet and warm, but also kind of sad. you tilt your head to the right, slightly, a silent invitation into your arms. 

and for a second, something unreadable sparks in satoru’s eyes, hidden behind the black of his shades. you still notice it, though — almost as if his whole face pauses for a second. in clever contemplation. 

you wonder if he noticed it, then. your puffy eyes, the sagging of your shoulders; the fatigue seeping off you, sticking to your skin.

you wonder if that’s why he relents, finally, stepping closer to bring you in for a hug.

the moment your head meets his chest, you’re enveloped by his scent. strawberries and fresh laundry, and a hint of expensive cologne. home.

a sigh leaves your lips, deep and content. you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, melting into the embrace — and satoru can’t really bring himself to be too angry, anymore.

”… well, i guess i could forgive you,” he muses, arms securely wrapped around your waist. you’re sure he’s trying to sound stern, but it’s not very convincing when he’s snuggling into you like this. ”but you’re gonna have to make it up to me. alright?”

”right, right,” you exhale, smiling. just thankful to be close to him, to feel that he’s there. ”thank you, oh benevolent satoru.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you feel it; the low tremor running through his chest, rumbling, as he rests his jaw on your head. ”careful with the snark. if you want to be forgiven you gotta be nice to me, sweetheart.”

you let out a breath, somewhere in between an exasperated sigh and a fond giggle. he’s relieved to hear the sound. satoru prides himself on being observant — being able to read someone with a single glance, notice if something’s off almost instantly. and he’s especially proud of his observant nature when it comes to you. 

as clear as the blue of the sky, or the brightness of the sun, satoru can tell that something’s wrong. he noticed it the moment he read that note, the moment you stepped back into the house, the moment he saw your meek little face staring up at him — desperate for comfort. as if one wrong touch could have you falling apart, shattering, like a flimsy sheet of glass.

whatever you were doing, today… it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

he’s curious, of course, and still more than a little irked at your escape — but that can wait until later. satoru can be patient, when he wants to be. at the very least, he can be patient when it comes to you. 

(for now, he’ll focus on cheering you up.)

nuzzling further into his chest, you take a deep breath, basking in the familiar sensation creeping up on you. satoru makes a halfhearted attempt to stifle his coo. 

”aw, look at you,” he grins, swaying you softly side to side. ”so clingy. you really did miss me, huh?”

a huff leaves your lips. ”shut up,” you mumble, feeling a heat rush to your cheeks. 

”be nice, baby.”

…

and you relent. the least you could do is indulge him, even if you know he’ll abuse the opportunity fully. you part your lips, and speak.

”… of course i missed you.”

”there we go,” a smug grin blooms on his lips. he rubs your back, absentmindedly. gosh, he’s infuriating. 

(you love him so much you want to sneak into his chest and gobble up his heart.)

after a moment, he pulls away from you. just a little, just to get a good look at your face. drinking you in, with his blue-soaked gaze, as your eyelashes flutter. he reaches out, the pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin — cupping your cheek with his palm, big and warm, cradling you the way a believer would cup a mouthful of holy water. 

then he leans in to kiss you. giving you no time to prepare, drawing you in, drawn to your touch, inexplicably. helplessly. 

it’s a chaste kiss, light and heart-fluttering. his lips are soft, tasting lightly of cherry chapstick. when you exhale against them, you feel him smile, almost smirking. a blissful little breath that he drinks in, hands squeezing softly at your hips, bringing you just a little closer. rubbing his nose against yours. 

his tongue flits out to lick at your bottom lip, a teasing flick, and then he’s pulling back — still close enough to make you flustered. 

”missed you too,” he purrs, voice deep and raspy, rumbling through his chest. ”thought i was gonna go insane without you.”

with a flushed face, and something akin to a pout playing at your lips, you avoid his gaze. you’re sure that if you looked now, you’d see those pools of blue peeking out beneath the black glass. 

satoru leans in to kiss you, again. giving you no warning, as always; unable to resist the temptation. 

(you really are too cute for your own good.)

it’s a little intoxicating, the way he breathes you in. sweet and warm, like he’s trying to say i love you without using any words, with just his lips and lungs and tongue. he’s a little too good at it — someone so inexperienced has no business being so naturally good at kissing. it’s a little irritating.

but that’s satoru, for you. always surpassing your expectations; like there’s no limit to his love.

satoru finally decides to spare you, satisfied with the tiny squeak that bubbles up in your throat when he nibbles at the flesh of your lip. he’ll demand more kisses later — preferably when you’re seated in his lap, and he can properly turn you into a boneless puddle.

”alright,” he chirps, a melodic lilt to his voice, stepping back with a palm still on your hip. his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. ”let’s see those pastries.”

”oh. right…” you’re quick to lean down, snatching the paper bag from where it lays on the floor. passing it to satoru, so he can look into it.

seemingly satisfied with the contents, he lets out a contemplative hum. ”okay, this is a start,” he nods, decisive. ”c’mon. let’s eat ’em by the couch.”

…

you narrow your eyes, suddenly suspicious. ”… hang on. have you had lunch yet?”

satoru gapes, as if in disbelief, barking out a soft, offended little scoff. ”really? you’re doubting me?”

”that’s not a yes.”

a pout forms on his lips. ”of course i have. who do you think i am?”

”oh yeah?” you give him a smile, a tiny raise of your brow. something in you knows that he’s lying. ”what’d you eat?”

”what is this, an interrogation?” he huffs. ”i’m a grown man. i can eat what i want!”

”not when i’m around,” you deadpan. then sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. ”satoru, you can’t eat a bunch of sweets for lunch. it’s not good for you.”

”so you can abandon me for hours, but i can’t have a little treat every once in a while? is that how it is?”

a roll of your eyes. you shift on your feet, letting out a low groan, and satoru has to reel in his growing smile. ”alright, drama queen. i get your point.” a moment passes, and you hum. ”… want me to make you something? or should i just order take out?”

satoru pouts, again, like a big huffy dog. ”babe, don’t you trust me? i’ve already had lunch. i got yakitori from the place downtown!”

”oh? you mean the yakitori place that’s closed on sundays?”

”huh. that’s weird,” he muses, smiling faintly. ”must’ve been some other place, then.” 

you give him an unamused look. he returns it with a vague upturn of his lips, completely unbothered.

a sigh.

”… i’ll order take out.”

”whatever you say, princess.”

you stifle a smile, and go digging for your phone, feeling your own stomach rumble a bit. in the midst of the banter, you almost forget what day it is. 

and satoru feels satisfied. you look a little more alive, now. a little more anchored to reality. as you call the takeout place of your choosing, he can even spot some earnest light in your eyes. he’s not exactly worried — but you did seem oddly stiff, just now, a little blurry. faded at the corners, like a dusty old polaroid.

and if there’s one thing satoru gojo can’t do, it’s leave you alone when he knows you need him.

satoru’s punishment for leaving him alone so long is swift and severe.

you’re seated in his lap, caged in by his long arms, and this time you know there’s no escaping them. even if you could, you wouldn’t dare to try. being caged in like this, warm and comfy in satoru’s embrace, isn’t really much of a punishment at all — even the kisses he has you press against his lips and jaw aren’t unwelcome, albeit a little embarrassing. he’s a merciful tyrant. 

but you can’t help but feel like you’re deceiving him. 

you still feel so lost, somehow, a murky sensation you can’t seem to shake off. and you know it’s because of your brain, because of the correlations it’s stitching and crocheting between today and her and you. 

it simply won’t let you be happy, today. 

you can’t help but feel a little greedy. ungrateful. even though you have your precious sun with you, even though you should feel warm, her absence hangs heavy on you. her continued absence, in your world, your life. a chill that rots your bones from the inside out. you know you’ll never get over it. you don’t ever want to get over it. it’s tough, though. 

you should be happy, snuggled into your boyfriend’s arms, but her sorrow clings to you. you should be mourning, but his arms feel so secure like this. no reaction feels right, no emotion warranted.

(you really are greedy, aren’t you?)

satoru chuckles, a sound both delighted and amused — snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. as always.

you’re watching a movie he likes, some cheesy old romcom. you really, really don’t understand his taste. but his commentary is always entertaining. judging by his cute little noise, someone just said something funny — funny to his standards, anyhow.

it’s too tempting to resist. you crane your neck, glancing up at him, wanting to see his face. from this angle, you can spot the blue of his eyes — beautiful and bright, flickering with splotches of pure white. they flit down to meet your own, gleaming with amusement.

”do i have something on my face, baby?” satoru chuckles, leaning forward to get a better look at you, all tucked against his chest. he grins, smooth, handsome; tailor-made to make you flustered. ”you’re staring at me real hard, there.”

(what a tease. 

unfortunately for him, you saw this one coming.)

”nah,” you show off a grin of your own, bubbly and teasing. ”you’re just pretty.”

he blinks. a few seconds passes by.

then a smile breaks out across his face. his eyes crinkle softly at the edges, like little petals, snowy bangs gliding against his skin when he tilts his head.

”oh?” he leans closer, hands still keeping you in place, making sure your gaze stays locked onto his. ”so forward. am i really that irresistible?”

there’s something soft in your eyes, something tender in the way your fingers go to touch his skin. a ghost of a caress, paired with your flimsy smile. you look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, breathing out an exhale. ”… i wouldn’t go that far.”

”aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he lets out a coo. ”come on — tell me i’m pretty again.”

”you liked that, huh?”

satoru flicks your forehead, no real strength behind it, so soft you barely feel it. there’s a certain reprimanding tilt to his voice, teasing as it is. ”be nice.”

he’s lucky you’re feeling too vulnerable to put up a fight. you turn around, to face him properly, squirming in his hold; reaching out to cup his handsome face.

”pretty boy,” you murmur, running your thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone. satoru grins, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you can spot earnest giddiness on his features — such a sucker for praise.

blindly, he searches for your other hand, bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, you notice, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. like every peck is a whispered psalm, a silent worship. but it’s light, it always has been — the weight of his boundless adoration. it’s not the heavy kind of love that gods give, not the one you hear about in stories, that always ends in death. satoru’s love isn’t crushing, and it isn’t suffocating. it’s delicate and careful, soft. it reminds you of how sunshine licks at your skin in the morning.

nothing more or less than one human being’s wholehearted love for another; giggles buzzing against your skin, crinkled eyes and mouthfuls of honey. blissful summer days.

(it reminds you of her, but it’s also something entirely different. something you can only ever make sense of when you think of the sun. when every single corner of your home has been doused in sunshine.)

a moment passes. so, so intimate, unbroken by the grief inside your chest. balm to your fractured heart, smoothing across your jagged edges. satoru leans into your palm, into your touch, relishing in the affection you give him. like a bee to a flower, blooming, wilting.

a nagging need tugs at your heartstrings.

(you want to see him. up close.)

although a little unsure, you reach your hands out, slowly, delicately, like approaching a frightened fawn — eager to remove his shades. he makes no move to stop you, so you assume that it’s okay. his eyes flutter open, when you do, white lashes parting like a bird taking flight; crinkled at the corners, overflowing with warmth. like sunshine streaming in through the curtains of your childhood kitchen. 

your heartbeat stutters at the sight.

all you can do is stare. transfixed, losing yourself in their calming hue, drinking them in. you sigh; a soft, quiet little sound. ”you’re so pretty.”

…

satoru lets out a breath, tinged with laughter. his eyes are teasing, but warm even still. ”… am i, now?”

”mhm. the prettiest.”

he chokes back another chuckle. hoping you won’t notice the slight flush to his ears, the heat on the back of his neck. he’s grown skilled at keeping a poker face, even when you try to fluster him — but it’s harder when you’re not trying, when it comes to you so easily. when your words are honest.

just when he’s about to turn the tables on you, you duck your head under his jaw. nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling his cologne, craving his warmth, knowing how much it grounds you. 

that, and his eyes are just a little too beautiful to stare into for too long. they always see right through you, deep into your soul, into every little nook and cranny of your mind. that undivided attention makes you feel a little meek, like you’re bare and raw before him. like there’s nothing you can hide.

(something in your hollowed-out chest begins to crumble.)

falling silent, you absently fiddle with the hem of satoru’s shirt, resting your forehead against his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything. the room would be silent were it not for that cheesy romcom, still buzzing in the background — you think the main couple just got divorced, again. or did get they married? you can’t really keep track of the plot. you can’t keep track of much at all, right now.

satoru makes you too happy.

so happy you forget what day it is, forget you’re supposed to be mourning. sometimes, you forget she’s even gone at all. as if she’s resting on some summer field, outside of your vision, alive and well. 

but she isn’t. you can’t forget that.

guilt. how long has it been part of your life? you don’t know the answer. you’re not sure you want to know. most of the time, it’s all you can feel. guilt, because you’re sitting here, happy, with the love of your life — the most wonderful person you know. guilt, because you haven’t told him what’s going on, because you don’t trust him enough — even though you’d like to think you just don’t want to burden him. you don’t trust anyone enough to let them glimpse into your decaying chest. you’re afraid of the rot. you’re afraid it’ll mold his hand at the slightest touch.

guilt, guilt, guilt — because you’re lucky enough to meet such wonderful people, over and over again, and never quite manage to deserve them.

(having lost its moon, where does a star find solace?)

a hand begins to stroke your head. the weight is a comfort, reassuring, a jolt of warmth trickling down your spine. for a moment, it’s all you can feel.

(— in the warmth of the sun.)

”sleepy?” he murmurs, low and soft. a little teasing, mostly inquisitive, a calm lull of his tongue.

are you? you didn’t really notice, until now. things are starting to feel a little hazy, aren’t they? you feel comfortable, too comfortable, your body aching for a moment of rest, a chance to shut off. sleep, sleep, sleep. don’t think about anything anymore.

satoru notices your sleepy little breaths, the way you gradually soften under his touch, melt into his arms. so he continues to run his hand over your head, petting you gently — knowing it’ll coax you into resting. he’d like you to stay up and binge shows with him all night, but you seem awfully tired. just this once, he’ll let you sleep — the plot was starting to get boring, anyhow. the sequel’s way better.

”you can rest, baby,” he coos, with a gentle intonation. his voice buzzes in your ear. ”i’ve got you.”

(he’s got you.)

the words make you feel so horribly, awfully safe. you can already feel yourself drifting away. his hand smooths down your hair, and a yawn slips from your lips, and you’re just so, so tired. how nice it would be, for the day to end. to be able to forget, for another year.

yeah. how nice. 

you wonder why you don’t take the opportunity.

maybe it has something to do with satoru. with the way he seems to bring you back to reality so effortlessly, soothes you without even really trying. maybe it’s the way he bares himself in front of you, blue eyes on full display, allowing you to see every single part of him. 

maybe, it makes you want to do the same.

”… satoru?”

your voice sounds meek. tiny, unguarded. the man in question only hums, feeling you slump against his shoulder. ”hm?”

”today…” you trail off, unsure how to proceed. you can only think of a certain girl, a certain moon. the melancholy is almost overbearing; it pushes you over the edge. ”i went to a cemetery.”

satoru doesn’t respond. he gives you space to continue, never once halting the motion of his big hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. you gulp, trying to force your dry throat to make sounds.

”… my best friend is buried there. she died today. a couple years back… so i —” a coldness crawls under your skin, words hollow as they leave your lips.

”… you know.”

”yeah. i figured.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter, in surprise — you can’t see satoru’s face, with the way you’re pressed up against him, but you still look up.

what tipped him off, you wonder? 

you believe him. satoru has a way of seeing through you, one way or another, always more observant than you give him credit for. he’s tactful, in how he brings it up, and that slumbering maturity he tries to hide comes into view. there’s no judgement in his tone, no pity — only understanding.

”… oh,” is all you can mutter. dumbfounded.

”i’m sorry. about her.”

”don’t be,” you murmur, managing a soft shake of your head. ”i’m — i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just wanted to go there alone, and… deal with it? i guess.”

after a brief pause, you keep going. feeling so, so small. but satoru holds you so tenderly. a whisper slips past your lips, dripping with longing.

”… you’d have liked her.”

”what was she like?” comes his reply, instantaneous.

…

huh.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your mind spins in circles, but nothing happens. 

(what was she like?)

”… i really loved her.”

satoru lets out a breath. vaguely amused, but he isn’t smiling. his words have a kindness to them; an understanding, more than anything. ”that’s all, huh?”

a slight intake of breath.

— then you bring yourself to think of her.

you think of her face, how her lips curled up into a smile when you tripped over air, the splotches of sunlight reflecting off her white teeth. you think of her laughter, how it always echoed in your head, how she took your hand in hers when you were too scared to walk ahead alone — taking the first step so you wouldn’t have to. a whole human being, multifaceted, enough traits and quirks to fill the whole night sky.

your moon. your eurydice. the only one who understood you.

you loved her a lot.

”… when i was with her, even sitting around and doing nothing made me happy.” nostalgia seeps into the whisper, like warm honey clogging up your throat, choking you. ”just her being there made every day feel like a good one.”

satoru doesn’t say anything. but he holds you, and he doesn’t let go. even when your voice begins to waver.

”i guess that’s… how i’d describe her.” a small breath. then a smile, even smaller. rueful, but it’s there, and it means everything. ”i’d do anything to have that yesterday back.”

satoru stays silent. 

you’ve spoken about her, before. he knows some things. not a lot. he knows she’s important to you; the person who shaped you into who you are, your very best friend. he tries to picture her, inside his mind.

you let out a tiny sigh, your lungs feeling empty of air. ”… i’m sure you two would have gotten along.”

”yeah,” he hums, palm smoothing down your back. stifling the thought that threatens to sneak into his mind — you wouldn’t have gotten along with him, but i would’ve wanted you to. ”i’m sure we would have.”

it’s a little too sweet to be true. but it makes you happy, just to imagine that kind of reality — the two of them, together. satoru would tease her, and she’d ignore him, hiding a smile behind her palm. she’d warm up to him eventually. they’d bicker over who knew you best, and demand your own verdict — 

you’d smile, not saying a thing.

your voice has gotten a little shaky. it’s scary, opening yourself up for him to see; it feels a little like being sewn open. but you force yourself to keep going. satoru rubs your back through it all, soothingly.

(he’s so, so proud of you.)

”i was thinking…” you trail off, gaze fixed on satoru’s shirt, fingers gripping the smooth fabric. ”maybe, some time in the future — i mean, if you want to — you could… come with me? maybe?” 

silence.

”you don’t have to say yes. but if you do want to —”

”i do.” 

satoru’s voice is absolute. there isn’t any room for doubt; he makes sure of that. ”i’d like to meet her.”

… oh.

it was that easy, huh? 

(you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve him.)

”… okay,” you mumble, meekly, breath fanning over his skin. ”next year, then.”

satoru glances down at you. curled up against him, nearly sleeping, looking a lot less burdened than before — though there’s still a desperation in the way you lean into his touch, a silent terror, like you could drift away if he doesn’t keep you close. satoru wants to fix it. he wants to run his hands across your skin, stitch the scars life has left you with, even if his touch could never be as gentle as he’d like it to be. he wants to be tender.

but there’s no fixing grief. it lingers, always, no matter how much you try to scrub it away. even if you run a washcloth over your skin until it starts to bleed, the scent still remains. 

and there’s a sickening sense of comfort in the knowledge that it always will.

(there’s no getting rid of him, satoru knows. and deep down, he’s glad that it’s true.)

more than anything else — satoru is content. content in the knowledge that you trust him, that you can bring yourself to open up to him about something so personal. that you chose to tell him, even though he gave you a way out. something about it makes him feel almost overwhelmed with affection. the kind he can’t bear not to show you, the kind that makes him seek you out almost subconsciously; seeking out your touch, your laughter. the smile on your face.

and maybe, just maybe — it makes him want to be a little more open with you, too.

”yeah,” he murmurs, craning his neck to leave a kiss on the crown of your head. ”you can sleep, baby. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”

”… i’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” you whisper, suddenly. a little meek. ”i felt really bad.”

satoru chuckles. raspy, an amused little breath. ”you’re forgiven, honey,” he coos. ”just don’t do it again, hm? might break my heart.”

with a yawn, you loop your arms around his neck, nuzzling further into his warmth. fighting the urge to close your eyes. drowsiness washes over you all at once, as if it was waiting for you to get the last of your worries off your chest. ”… i love you.”

”i love you too,” comes his reply, a smile tugging at his lips. ”my sweet girl.”

it’s hard to resist the temptation. almost impossible, with how warm satoru feels, your eyes helplessly fluttering close. you were supposed to stay up with him — you haven’t even finished eating. and you didn’t finish his awful romcom. 

but he runs his hands over your head, and down your back, and it’s simply too hard to withstand the temptation. so you close your eyes, just for a second —

and that’s all it takes.

satoru keeps petting you, softly, until he’s sure you’re asleep, soft little breaths falling from your parted lips, drool slipping down your chin. he’ll forgive you for staining his shirt, just this once. with you in his lap, sound asleep, he feels himself soften — hands running down your back, rubbing circles into your skin. cradling you closer and closer, ensuring that you’re comfortable. taking a few sneaky pictures, that he’ll tease you about tomorrow — 

(though in reality, he just wants to be able to look at them whenever he wants.)

even while eating, romcom flickering on and on, all he can think about is you. how you look so pretty sleeping against him, how you trust him enough to let him see you at your lowest. how you trust him to take care of you, run his fingers across the scars etched into your soul. even if it does no good, even if his touch is clumsy at best — that act of trust alone sets his heart aflutter.

he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this happiness.

”well, here we are.”

satoru holds a bouquet of flowers in his arms, putting it down on the grave, crouching down next to you.

a sigh leaves your lips. 

”… this still feels a little surreal,” you admit, sparing a glance at the man to your left. ”sure you’re not a little freaked out?”

”nah. don’t mind me, just do your thing.”

”that’s… easier said than done,” you murmur, arranging the flowers for the grave. asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hydrangeas.

a hum buzzes in his throat. ”well, what do you usually do when you’re here?”

”i… talk to her, i guess…?” you gnaw at your bottom lip, turning your face away. you feel a little awkward, admitting it out loud, but if satoru finds it weird he’s frighteningly good at hiding it.

all he does is take a step back, as if giving space for your words to fit in. respectful, accommodating. so smooth you barely notice it. ”then talk.”

”… i can’t do that with you here.”

”eh? why not?”

”because — i just can’t, okay?” you let out a huff, averting your gaze, shying away from him. ”whatever. i’m just gonna do it in my head. she’ll have to manage.”

satoru turns his head, looking down at the city skyline below you as you clasp your hands together. when he looks back, he sees you mouthing something, no sound coming out — and decides to leave you be.

the grave is well kept. he wonders how many visits you’ve managed to sneak past him, in the years that he’s known you. he wonders if it’s supposed to feel this foreign, being here, staring down at something he knows must mean the world to you. the grave of your very best friend. someone who holds a piece of your heart, a side of you he never got to see. 

he’ll have to make a good first impression.

satoru clasps his hands together, too. and he speaks, silently, with no words; lips pursed in a tight line. 

(hi, there. it’s nice to meet you.)

it’s not like he has no experience of talking to the dead, himself. he’s more than acquainted with one-sided conversations, lonely visions of boys with black hair, men with sad smiles. framed by the setting sun.

so it doesn’t feel too odd. 

satoru talks. about this, about that. he tries to keep it professional. this is important to you, so by nature, it’s important to him. the conversation comes to a close, and he looks at the grave with an unreadable expression — hands still clasped in silent prayer.

(i promise to take care of them.)

a sniffle. 

satoru glances over at you, just as you turn away — trying to hide from him. but he knows. he’ll always, always know when you need him most. 

two strong arms curl around your waist, stabilizing you, anchoring you to earth. ”i’ve got you,” he whispers, and you fall into his embrace. allowing him to pick up the pieces, to put you back together. ”i’ve got you.”

”i —” your voice breaks apart, crumbles into stardust, a shuddering breath that escapes from the back of your throat. there’s nothing to see through your tears. ”i miss her so much.”

satoru cradles you close to his chest, tucking you under his chin. ”i know,” he soothes. your little sobs leave his heart with a bitter feeling, and he wishes he could make them disappear; but he knows you need this. 

when he holds you, something brushes against the fabric of your clothing. the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. something alive, deep within his chest, something for you to ground yourself with. and you know it was intentional, on his part — the decision to press your hearts together, a promise he doesn’t have to find the words for, because you know.

(stay alive for me. i’ll stay alive for you.

when you can’t breathe properly, i’ll be here to do it for you.)

your tears stain his brand-new coat, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is you, the fact that you’re crying, how to properly comfort you. it’s new to him, all of it, everything about you is just so new and he’s so afraid of messing it all up again —

but he holds you close. murmuring, right by your ear, endless sweet nothings. he waits for you to get it all out of your system, and he doesn’t let you go.

when you finally collect yourself, thoroughly tired out, eyes red and puffy — satoru smiles. it’s brighter than the sun, positively life-envoking. it gives you something to hold on to. he parts his lips.

”thank you for bringing me here.”

a shake of your head. soft, as he thumbs away your tears, one by one. ”thank you for coming with me,” you smile, small as it is, holding onto his hands. feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of his palm.

after saying your farewells, and promising to come back next year, the two of you begin your trek down the mountain trail. hand in hand. it’s mostly silent, but not at all in a bad way. satoru knows when to be serious, and when not to be. today, he knows you’re especially fragile — he wouldn’t dare overstep.

(especially when he knows your pain so well.)

”hey,” you break the silence. ”thank you, really. for… well, everything.”

satoru brushes you off, with a light squeeze of your hand. ”don’t mention it. i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i?”

”it’s not about that,” you chuckle, an embarrassed smile on your lips. ”just… thank you for existing, i guess. i love you a lot.” 

…

satoru hums.

if he were any other person, maybe he’d respond with something just as sincere — something to let you know exactly how much you mean to him, how you make his world brighter just by being in it. how you mend scars he didn’t even know he had, as effortlessly as brushing a strand of hair away from your face. how you remind him of a certain boy, but also something entirely different; a love so light it makes him feel human.

but he’s satoru gojo — and so he has to do things in a more roundabout way.

”hey,” he starts, with a soft click of his tongue. ”next christmas. are you free?”

you blink up at him, with a tilt of your head. ”… of course. we always do something on christmas, right?”

”no, i don’t mean that.”

another tilt of your head. satoru hums, low and contemplative, humming quietly.

”eh,” he flicks his hand, waving you off. ”you’ll see.”

”… okay?”

silently, you study his expression, hoping to find some sort of hint that’ll give away the meaning of his words. you can’t find anything except a carefree smile, his eyes still obscured by his shades — hidden from you and the rest of the ghosts.

you suppose it doesn’t really matter. satoru seems happy; and, really, that’s all you could ask for. 

so you only tug him closer, greedy for his warmth, basking in the feeling of it enveloping you. protecting you from the chilly air. 

satoru closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

(a boy with black hair smiles behind his eyelids.)

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Five Minutes - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not Proofread, Smut, Oblivious!Reader, Reader in Denial, Horny!Loki, Loki's use of magic, Intern!Reader, Dubcon (if you squint), Threesome (technically), Mutual Pining

Wordcount: 2,009

Summary: Loki has it bad for you. Having recently graduated from college, Tony Stark recruited you to work for him in his lab. A certain tall, dark and mysterious god takes a quick liking to you. He loves teasing you, and it's very clear that he wants you. To everyone but you, of course. Loki begins to use his magic to strip you of your defenses, but how will you respond?

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this little imagine I wrote up! As always, thank you all for your support on all of my other stories, I appreciate every single one of you! Without further ado, some fresh Loki smut.

The Avengers compound amazed you. There was so much to see, and Tony Stark had become somewhat of a father figure for you. He was very encouraging and for the most part, you were enjoying your start at the tower. You felt like the Avengers were like your family now. Natasha, Thor, and Steve were all like older siblings to you. Thor's brother Loki, however, had made several advances towards you. You always felt that he was teasing or that he wouldn't be interested in someone like you. You were a mere mortal, and although you were intelligent, Loki was a god.

However, he was a god who knew what and who he wanted. And he had his eyes set on you. The team didn't completely trust Loki yet. So, whenever they found themselves on a mission and you were stuck working in the lab, Loki always seemed to make his way up there to see you. On a typical day, he was always hiding in the library. But whenever you were in the lab alone, he was there to find you. Today was one of those days.

Loki also loved to comment on your lab gear, as he thought it was adorable. Your goggles, lab coat, your face shield. It was just simply adorable. So, when he spotted you in the lab, doing some experiments, he internally grinned. He opened up the glass door leading inside, and immediately you glanced up at him. "Oh darling, why can't you just be mine already?" You giggled, but avoided the question. "Loki, how many times have I told you that you need to be in proper lab attire to be in the lab? It is far too danger-" Loki shushed you by placing his index finger over your lips.

"And how many times have I told you I'm a god, love?" You glared up into his eyes. "That doesn't mean you're immortal from chemical burns, Loki."

"Aren't you bored up here?" He asked you suddenly. "No, thank you for asking. I'm quite entertained by what I'm doing here."

"So that means you don't want me to tear those clothes off of you?" Loki proposed. "I- I- um-" You stuttered, clearly flustered by his question. He shushed you again with his index finger. You blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm working."

"You can't just take a little fifteen minute break?" He pondered. You went to speak, before he spoke again. "Actually, we both know it'd turn into much longer than that." He winked, and your cheeks turned into an even deeper red hue.

"Okay, doll. I'll leave you be. For now..." The god left your presence, and suddenly you felt a longing in your chest for him. You did like Loki. A lot. But you felt that his teasing you must be completely silly and only due to the fact that he was completely and entirely out of your league.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The next time you saw Loki was when the Avengers returned from their mission later that day. Tony called a post-mission meeting in the team room to talk about strengths and weaknesses of the team and how improvements could be made.

You sat down with your cup of water, ready to talk with everyone about how the mission had gone. Everyone was alive, so the conversation was promising. In addition, no one ended up in the medical wing of the tower. Therefore, the meeting was to take place in the conference room in mere minutes. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, yourself, Loki, and several others sat among a large table.

Tony began with an overview of the mission, and although you tried your best to pay attention, you couldn't help but zone out unexpectedly several different times. You went for your glass of water, taking a small sip.

However, Loki had other plans. He formulated that a combination of your white blouse and water would be a delightfully - nearly lethal - one. With a flick of his hand, the water slipped out of the glass and onto the fabric that now coated your chest. The fabric that once hung loose, complimenting the shape of your breasts now completely surrounded them, and Loki loved the sight. You cursed to yourself, then got up and retreated to your room to change. Everyone understood why.

Loki, being his mischievous self, created a clone of himself to watch upon the meeting, while the other followed you to your bedroom.

"Darling, are you alright?" Loki knocked on your door with little to no hesitation. "Yes, Loki! I'm alright. Thank you for asking. Just getting changed!" In an instant, Loki transported himself into your room. Your white, lacy bra exposed to him, along with your tight black pencil skirt leaving little to the imagination. You gasped.

"I wouldn't mind helping you get undressed..." Loki spoke, shocking you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. "I- um- we have a meeting to attend, Loki." Although you had always sensed Loki's teasing towards you, it was always your understanding that all it was was teasing. Nothing more. But this - this was different. He was standing in front of you now, seeing more than most men ever had. Recognizing just how much you were exposed to the god, you attempted to fold your arms across your chest, which he immediately pulled back down to the side.

"Don't hide yourself from me, darling." Loki's voice was soft, yet stern. You gazed up at him, your innocent doe eyes doing more to him than you could ever imagine. Loki felt himself hardening more, if at all possible. "Let's make a deal, Y/N L/N. If I can get your precious mortal form to cum in 5 minutes or less, then you become mine."

You stood still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, completely shocked from his words. If you were honest, you had no idea that Loki even knew your last name. "I- I-" you started, unable to pursue words any longer. "Do we have a deal?" Loki spoke, more confidently than ever. "What do you mean I become yours?" You almost snapped at him, suddenly becoming somewhat agitated by the pressure of Loki's presence. "Your delicious physical form will be mine, your mind, your heart, all of it."

"So a slave?" "No, not a slave. I worship you too much. I just want you." You looked perplexed for a moment. "But why?" "Darling, shh. Your questions are terribly incessant. So, do we have a deal?"

"I would like to adjust the terms slightly. If - and I mean if - you can make me cum in 5 minutes, you can take me out on a date. Being a piece of property just really does not appeal to me in the slightest." In all honesty, you did not anticipate Loki taking your bid for a mere date. "Darling, I do not view you as property, not at all. However, I will accept your offer for this 'date.'"

And with that, Loki placed his lips firmly on yours. Slightly in shock, you pulled away for a mere moment. "Ah ah ah, we need a timer." You pulled out your phone, setting a timer for 5 minutes. He planted a kiss on you once more, wasting absolutely no time stripping you of your skirt, bra, and panties. 4m 53s.

He pushed you onto the bed, magically ridding himself of his own clothes as well. With the snap of his fingers, his clothes were removed, the green dust dissolved and they quickly dissipated, revealing his brilliant body underneath. 4m 47s. 

His cock stood at attention, its length prominent. Certainly larger than you had taken previously. You had begun to doubt the possibility of Loki even being able to fit inside of you. Before you could question it further, you felt Loki’s heated breath on your labia, his fingers parting it slightly so he could coax forward your clitoris towards his tongue. 

He brought his mouth to sit around your clit, suckling lightly as he got you warmed up. Similarly, he brought his fingers to massage your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. Suddenly, a magical green aura flashed, and a second Loki was upon you, taking your lips in his, twisting his tongue amongst yours, and almost most importantly, bringing your wrists up to hold in restraint above your head. 4m 32s. 

Your heat became considerably wetter, especially now that there were two Lokis playing with you. You moaned, which was mostly absorbed by Loki’s mouth, which was still toying with yours. You felt your nipples get pinched, at this point you weren’t sure by which Loki. You just knew pleasure, and that you were writhing with it, overwhelmingly so. 

You felt a teasing finger prod your entrance, almost beckoning you forward to beg for Loki’s member. However, you were distracted enough by the gentle kisses that were being placed on your lips, that you didn’t want to pull away from aside from the ever so slight breath that was needed for your pleasure to continue. Loki’s tongue continued to swirl around your clit teasingly, as your canal spasmed around his finger. 4m 15s.

You felt Loki’s lips release from yours, while you still felt the pressure from the other Loki lower. You let out a brief moan, making eye contact with the Loki above. “Good girl. Let me hear your beautiful sounds, darling.” 3m 57s. 

“You’re quite wet down here, my love. How would you like to feel your God inside of you?” The other Loki spoke from below, while simultaneously continuing to play with your clit and inside of you. You nodded feverishly, desperate to feel more than just Loki’s fingers in you. “Say it, my love.” “Please, Loki. Please.” 

“With pleasure, darling.” 3m 28s. The other Loki who was kissing you disappeared into green dust, as the first stood up. “I prefer this part to be more intimate, just the two of us.” 

Suddenly, Loki’s tip prodded against your opening, he took his time swirling around it before gently pressing inwards. You let out a moan as his tip entered you, pressing against your walls. His girth was certainly more than anyone you had been with previously. He is a god, after all. “Fuck,” you cursed. 

Loki tsked. “Be a good girl for me” he slid inside of you with a sudden movement, fully penetrating you. 2m 45s. 

“Oh my god” you moaned. “That’s right, your god.” 2m 22s. 

Loki brought your legs to his shoulders, thrusting steadily inside of you as he kissed your lips. You had never felt this much pleasure in your life. You groaned out as Loki released your lips from his. “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So, so good” you moaned, his pulsating inside of you more and more consistent, more intense with every stroke. “You’re so good for me, love.” 

Your legs shaking with pleasure as Loki continued his persistent pounding of your canal. 1m 57s.

“I’m-” you stuttered, Loki hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath as warmth built inside of your stomach. “You’re what, darling?” Loki questioned teasingly, knowing you barely had it in you to answer. 1m 34s. 

“I’m gonna- oh my god.” 

“You’re gonna what, love?”

“Cu-cum.” 

“Cum with me, darling. Now.” 1m 2s. 

You felt Loki’s hot fluids coat your insides, as your pleasure brought you to the most incredible orgasm of your life. Loki, staying inside of you, brought his mouth to yours to continue his delicate, yet intense, displays of affection. “Looks like I got about a minute to spare, my lady. So when’s that date?” 

Loki slid out of you, landing next to you on the bed where he could snuggle in close to you.

“Well, let’s count out today, I won’t be able to walk until at least tomorrow.” Loki placed kisses on your cheek and jawline as he held you close. 

“We’ll stay here until then, my love.”

[astayinwonderland]

"After all, you're my wife." | Choi San

pairings: san x f.reader

genre: smut | fluff (if you squint)| +18 minors DNI

this is a mix between a poll and a request by @elfemi

summary: you marry san to make an alliance, and the agreement includes to live separate lives, but both of you seem to want each other (mafia!au)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san calls you his little pet, cursing, degrading, praising, unprotected sex (pls no), cum play, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of violence (not towards reader) and drugs -- lmk if I forgot anything

Enjoy! (;

There are two things you have very clear. Your dad is dead and you fucking hate Choi San. Inheriting the position of mafia leader was your birthright, your dad raised you to be that woman. However, not everyone wants to see a woman in such a powerful position, to their misfortune, you were the late mafia boss’s only child. 

When your father fell ill, you knew it was time to get your position as leader and boss secure. That meant allying with someone rich and powerful. You were surprised that all eligible bachelors were too old, too young, or not powerful enough. 

Theo was standing behind you as your eyes scanned the guests your dad’s most trusted assistant invited for a ‘get-together and mingle with the corrupt elite of the country. He had become like an uncle to you, a genuine part of the family. With his kind eyes, but cold demeanor, he is the perfect person to have your back. 

“What about him?” Theo said. 

“Ugh no…” 

“You can’t keep saying no to everyone. Choose or I will choose for you tonight,” your dad finally spoke. Eyes not looking at you. This is not his favourite idea ever, but it was necessary. 

You couldn’t picture yourself with any of these men, but it was your duty. So you tried your best to be somewhat amicable and get to like at least one of them. With your wine glass in hand, you decided to talk to your pursuers. They would throw themselves at your feet, showering with compliments, showing off their riches, and to be honest being completely obnoxious. This is not what you needed. You needed someone who you could make a deal with and live separate lives while keeping the façade of a marriage. 

Shit, this was going to be hard. 

The door opened and at that moment you knew something was off. The entire room fell silent when the man with broad shoulders and shiny black hair walked in. His face was expressionless, with high cheekbones, and not a trace of sympathy. You would think he would come to greet you, that’s the reason why he is there, but he just bows in your direction and walks over to the bar. 

The conversation around you resumed, whispers commented on the politician’s son. His father was a powerful drug lord who controlled one of the borders. No wonder he has so much influence. Your brain made a quick list of pros and cons, and so it seemed Choi San would be the right choice for you. 

___________________________________

San was aware his father was a criminal but when he was pushed to marry you, he did everything he could think of to change his father’s mind. He begged he asked to be sent away, hell, he even asked for physical punishment. But Mr. Choi was a greedy, greedy man, and he saw in you an opportunity to be even greedier, richer, and more powerful. This was truly the perfect alliance. 

Your dad’s body wasn’t ever cold yet when San got the call and the whole marriage circus began to play. At least the ceremony would be short and he would get to move into his room in your mansion and get it over with. San only met you that one time, but he remembered very well how you looked. In one word, terrifying. You would make the perfect fake wife. 

San watched you walk toward him dressed in black, a dress that covered your legs right above the knees but left little to his imagination from the way the cleavage showed off your round and soft breasts. He just politely nodded at you. At the end of the day, there was nothing to celebrate, your dad was dead and he had to pretend to be your loving husband for the rest of his life or until something or someone killed him. 

With no kiss to seal the deal, San just signed the papers and tried to give you a smile, which was awkward. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. 

You returned the smile, less awkwardly, and patted his shoulder. For a split second, San saw something in you, maybe kindness, but that was all forgotten when you two started living together. 

_____________________________________

“Yeah… fuck, don’t fucking stop, don't fucking—” your voice bounces on the walls, you are so close. 

“Ah.. ah!” the deep voice behind you moans as he cums way too soon. 

San closes his eyes across the hallway. Why do you have to be so fucking loud? To be honest, he wishes he could shut you up once and for all. Moving in with you was necessary, he understands that, part of the arranged marriage and your agreement. However, San never imagined how opinionated and bossy you could be. One thing was your role as the new mafia leader, another thing was you ordering him around the house like some unloved pet. 

Tonight, nonetheless, San wouldn’t take that anymore, so he did something unexpected. He left his bedroom and went looking for you. Was he out of his mind? Probably, you specifically instructed to ‘stay the fuck away’ and since your marriage was fake, you could find carnal pleasure with anyone you wanted. 

San walked out of his bedroom. His pajama pants hanging low, his shirt forgotten somewhere in his room. He still wore his reading glasses and his black hair was wet, and slicked back. Your bedroom door abruptly opens and an unfortunate man flies out of your room. He is in his underwear trying to flee the scene grabbing his clothes as your upset persona watches not too far from the door. San’s curious eyes find your figure, and my oh my, what on earth are you wearing? 

If San didn’t know any better he would be jealous of the thin piece of clothing that gets to touch your soft skin. You have no shame as you stand there in front of your husband. The peach, sheer dress dances loosely on your body, however, it shows off your beautiful body. San can see your nipples hardening under such a provocative piece of clothing as his eyes scan even further south to find the core of your intimacy unclothed. 

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask. 

“N-no, I was just… taking a break from reading. I couldn't focus,” he crosses his arms across his chest and something in you wonders how you never paid any close attention to those broad shoulders and itty bitty tiny waist. 

“Was I being too loud? Apologies.” 

“Not at all, I believe you can be louder… with the right encouragement.” 

The audacity. He can’t speak to you like this… he has never done something so daring. Your heart races and a familiar heat travels from your chest down to your legs. 

“Go to your room, San,” you scold him and close the door. 

San rolls his eyes. He has had enough of you bossing him around as if he was your puppy or servant. So on this night, Choi San decided something. He will make you see him for what he is, an important part of your alliance, a capable, fierce man, and your husband. 

______________________________

The days pass and you haven’t seen much of San. You haven’t seen him at all. Is not a surprise not to see him or know of him for a day or two, however, it’s been 9 days since you had your little after-hours encounter. You sit in front of various members of the cartel and trusted members of the mafia your father once led. Theo, your father’s favourite and now your confidant, continues to sit to the right of the boss, you. 

“We are losing territory, it’s like we don’t have enough people from our side…” one protests. 

“The matter is getting resolved. I suspect there is someone infiltrated in one of our negotiations or maybe lines have been tapped–” 

You are cut mid-sentence when the doors are almost torn from their hinges and your husband enters the room. He is agitated, pulling a beaten man by the collar of his crimson-stained shirt, the same crimson colour that decorates San’s knuckles and hands. The stranger is pushed and kicked to your feet, and you almost feel pity for his bruised face. 

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, love,” San starts, leaving that last word resonating in your head. “This little rat here has something to tell us, don’t you?” San walks over to him and pulls him by the root of his hair making his eyes meet yours. “Look at my wife when you speak, scum, or do I need to break the rest of your fingers one by one?” 

And now you see it, his left hand, disfigured, broken bones making his muscles swell under his skin. 

“Speak,” you command. 

“I– I know who’s been feeding information to Viggiano.” 

As soon as you hear the name you stand from your chair and grab his face. 

“You better start talking before you lose your tongue as well,” you look at the disheveled man, then back at San. His eyes have such an intense glare, you’ve never seen him like this. It makes the hairs on your back rise.

“Pl-please no, I–” as the man stutters he keeps looking past you, which makes you turn to see Theo standing right there. The kindness in his eyes was now replaced by threat and fear. 

“No…” a small gasp leaves your lips. 

“You are never going to be the right person to lead, everyone knows–” Theo starts. 

Slap! You can’t believe the speed at which your body moved to hit your so-called uncle across the face. Two of your guards grab him by the arms, waiting for your command, but San is quicker. He bumps the disheveled man’s head with the table, knocking him unconscious. Like a predator to its prey, he walks towards Theo. You don’t see it coming but one punch from San and Theo is coughing blood. 

“That’s enough, San. You can go now.” 

San is in disbelief, but he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you and your company know he is indeed annoyed by your decision. 

“I want his nose and ears cut off, for being a liar and an eavesdrop, send them to Viggiano,” you walk towards the door. “Sleeping beauty over there loses his tongue. I want them both dead by midnight… oh and let this be an example of what happens if you betray your boss,” you finally exit the room, listening to the ‘yes ma’ams’ behind you. 

The night seems to be the longest one you’ve ever lived. This is not the first tough decision you make, but this is the first time someone close betrays you, and it hurts. It hurts bad, so you cry in the loneliness of your room. You curse. You throw things around and you scream. Everyone has been instructed not to bother you, except for one person. 

“May I come in?” San’s voice is soft outside the door. 

“Leave me alone!” 

San enters your room regardless and nothing stops him from getting to you. He holds your wrists. 

“You need to stop bossing me around, I know you are upset but I am not your puppy or your slave.” 

“You disappeared for 9 days and came home with a big surprise. Great! But you mean nothing to me, Choi San, and I mean nothing to you! Just get out before I call the guards.” 

“Nothing to you? Nothing to me!?” he is even more shocked than before and you see in his eyes that look he gave you when you got married but now it is enhanced. It is sympathy. It is agony. It is lust, pain, and love. Deep down you know he means something to you or you would have him dragged out of your room in this very minute. 

You don’t get to answer when San’s lips are already on yours and you find yourself kissing this handsome man back. This handsome man is legally your husband, but you have never kissed before. His lips are hungry and wanting, making you thirst for him as your tongues collide and his needy hands cup your ass. 

“See how lovely it can be when you don’t boss me around and you shut up.” 

Fuck.

The wetness between your legs just grows and you have no words to answer back. His mouth is on your delicate neck, oh he needs to make a work of art here, your skin looks like it could bruise easily. San sucks on various points, his tongue lapping over the marks he leaves behind. Your moaning goes from soft to breathy and impatient. One of your hands reaches under your nightgown and San slaps it away. 

“No, love, you don’t get to relieve yourself until I fucking say so. Now be a good pet and strip for me, would ya?” 

You take off your clothes as fast as you can, pathetic. A week ago, San was just the most annoying housemate, a convenient inconvenience, but now you’re here naked in front of him. His eyes are dark scanning your body, planning how he is going to ruin you, and you are going to let him do as he pleases. 

“On your knees.” 

And you drop to your knees looking up at his adoring face with a wicked smile. He lowers his pants just enough for you to see his cock already leaking for you.

“Such a good pet, would you help me out?” 

You continuously nod and pull his pants further down. His cock is beautiful, perfect, just like him. Slightly curved, just the right thickness, and a bit longer than average. You spit on it and start with your hand, jerking him off, up and down, up and down. Without interrupting the pace you lick his balls and earn the most sensual moan from San’s lips. So you put your mouth to work. You put him between your wet needy lips and push him in, sucking, tasting all of him. San’s breath is heavier when you start bopping your head up and down. He suddenly grabs your hair and takes control, fucking your face and watching you take it. To his eyes, you were already so beautiful, but this is something else.

“See how beautiful you look with your mouth shut, so obedient, now be a good wife and take this cock.” 

You moan at his words, how can they make you so horny when you had no plan of sleeping with him. The vibrations in your throat send San spinning and he is too close to cuming, but not yet. He pulls out of your mouth and helps you up, and with a slap to your ass, he takes you to bed. He signals you to straddle him. You normally don’t like eye contact with your sexual partners but there is something about San that makes it different. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock and I only want to hear how good it feels, okay?” 

You sit on his cock slowly, letting yourself adjust to his length and girth. When you start to bounce on top of him, San has to use all of his willpower not to drill into you like some kind of wild animal, he can do that any other time if you let him. The way you are making him feel is ecstatic. Your tits moving up and down so close to his face he has to suck on them. The feeling of his tongue on your nipples makes you want to cry for pleasure. You let out a high-pitched moan.

“Words, little pet, I wanna hear them– fuck,” San throws his head back as your pace becomes quicker. He slaps your ass, once, twice. 

“I love it, I fucking love it, San… fuck. I like it right there, so fucking perfect. I want you to fucking split me in half,” you just let words out, words derived from the ecstasy of having his cock buried deep inside you. 

And that was the queue for San to let go and fuck you like he wanted. Like you wanted. He now fucks you faster than the pace you set earlier. His hands bruising your hips, the skin-to-skin contact adding even more passion, and his eyes… His eyes on yours making you feel his, making you feel safe, making you feel you can let go and– 

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum… fuckfuckfuck!” 

And San holds you while your body trembles and your high makes your brain explode into a thousand little particles of pure lust and sin. Fuck the way your heart races, you can hear it in your ears. He puts you on the bed and your reaction time doesn’t catch up with your brain when your legs are wrapped around his waist and he is entering you. 

“San…” you whisper. 

He stops. He is unsure if this is too much and he is willing to stop. 

“San, San, San…” you keep saying his name like a plead, a prayer to the heavens as your hips move forward. You want more. 

“Bet. No one. Ever. Fucked you. Like. This.” San says between thrusts so deep you can feel him in your cervix. “Look at you all fucked out, my obedient pet, taking my cock so well, wanting to cum again. Is that what you want?” 

You nod desperately, anything for another intense orgasm with him. You only want this with him. His hands touching you, his moans on your ears, his voice commanding you to cum again and again. 

This time San fucks you slower, you can feel every inch of him inside you as you clench around his erection encouraging him to keep going. He grabs your thighs to pull you even closer to him, angling your hips higher making you not say his name, but scream it. 

“Yes, fuck, keep saying my name just like that.” 

So you did as he entered you, ruining you for any other man who dared match him. You were his, the man who saved your life and fucks you into oblivion. Now you were close, so close to your climax and you needed to cum like oxygen itself. 

“You don’t get to cum without me, hold it like the good pet that you are,” he says struggling to make a coherent sentence, he was very close too. 

You try hard not to cum before he does, but looking at him sweaty, chasing his high, fucking you as no one has done before does something to you. Your hands squeeze your tits together while your eyes close, trying to last longer. San could have combusted with that sight alone. 

“Cum– cum now… fuck!” 

The tightness in your belly is now free as you both cum. It is so fucking loud that your head hurts. His seed spills deep inside you and if you felt full before, now it’s even better, your legs feel like gelatin. San gently places them down. You are thinking he will probably leave you to go back to his room but he does the unexpected. 

His thumb is over your extremely sensitive clit and two of his slender fingers push his cum back inside you. You scream closing your legs. He smiles. 

“You need to take it all, love,” that’s it… the dom session is over and he uses that word that makes your heart flutter. 

“I can’t.” 

San licks your clit, tasting the mix of both of your releases. His fingers thrust in slowly, slightly angling up until you squirm under his touch. 

“Ah, right there? You like it there, love?”

“Mmmm-ugh yesfuck…ah–” you babble. 

San continues his tortuous pace until he latches once again his mouth to your clit. You see stars, you don’t know how your body is taking this, it is so fucking good, he is so fucking good. The way he keeps you on edge and makes you want more and more. Fuck, you can’t even think and you feel your body about to orgasm but something is different. 

“San, San… stop. I’m gonna–” and you squirt, drenching him in your juices. 

“That’s a good girl.” He licks your entrance once last time before collapsing beside you, his arms open inviting you to rest on his broad and hard chest. 

“You are not allowed to sleep in the other room anymore. From now on you sleep here, okay?” 

“You’re ordering me around, but I will follow your command. After all, you are my wife,” he hugs you tightly. 

__________________________________

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ —this took me forever but I am in love with this san! reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be part of the taglist.

[kvroomi]

imagine spider-man!gojo and spider-woman!reader, who both work together harmoniously throughout the city as a pair of vigilantes—unaware of each other’s identities and just how prevalent they both are in one another’s lives outside of fighting crime. it’s an unconventional meeting and it’s almost sunrise. after a mission together, they’ve both stopped by the same convenience store for some food.

it’s quiet, the buzz of the fluorescent lights casting a faint glow to the packaging of the bright blue can of energy drink. the bold words are promising of enough caffeine to keep you upright for the next twelve hours. though you stand there, frozen for a moment, battling an internal debate about whether you should just skip dinner and head to bed with an empty (and hungry) stomach—or destroy it with sugar. you decide with the latter and pick up the can to drop it into your basket with a sigh. the weight of it feels much heavier in your hand than it should.

“energy blast? didn’t think you were into fine dining.”

you freeze mid-step, mentally cursing the universe for its lack of mercy. you’d like to think you’d know that voice anywhere; it wasn’t something endearing, rather your body was sent into fight or flight at even just the mention of his name.

slowly you turned to face him, and sure enough, there he was—gojo. he’s leaning against the shelf, his sunglasses (yes, he wore them even at midnight), are perched obnoxiously on his nose. they shine with the garish lighting, forcing you into a squint when your eyes catch the bright reflection.

you almost groan at the sight of his bag. it’s a war zone of sour gummies, chocolate bars, and what looked suspiciously like a can of whipped cream.

“i could say the same for you,” your voice is measured, a conscious effort to exhibit a fake, but convincing act of nonchalance. “what is that anyways? is it for dessert or are you trying to send yourself into a sugar-induced coma?”

he grinned, the kind of lopsided smile that could make angels weep—or villains run, depending on the day. “don’t knock it ‘til you try it. some of us know how to live a little.”

“suuuuure,” rolling your eyes as you reply, unconvinced. “if living means 7 different cavities for each day of the week.”

gojo chuckled, low and easy. he shifted closer. it’s a split millisecond reaction and you immediately notice his subtle limp. anyone would’ve missed it—anyone but you.

of course you did. it wasn’t much, just a tiny hesitation. but paired with the faint bruise just under his jaw, it set off a hundred silent alarms in your head.

you’d seen him like this before. maybe not to the extent of his injuries today, but something more frayed at the edges—like he’d been somewhere he shouldn’t.

“what happened there?” gojo stills for a second, confused at what you’re referring to.

you point at your jaw, mirroring the placement of his bruise.

he blinked, momentarily caught off guard before his grin widened.

"oh, this?" tapping his jaw lightly, he continued. “you wouldn't believe me if i told you."

"try me."

"i got into a fight with a revolving door," he says, straight-faced. "it was me or the glass, and well..."

you rolled your eyes. "right. because that sounds believable."

"hey, revolving doors are dangerous," he insisted. "you’re lucky you weren't there—i would've had to save you too."

"sounds like you need saving from yourself," you retort, not being able to help the small smile tugging at your lips.

with another roll your eyes, you turned back to the shelf. letting your eyes drift across the many labels of caffeinated drinks, you couldn’t help but focus on his presence looming behind you. it was always like this with gojo—relentless.

you’d met him a year ago when you started working at the same community arts center. you taught weekend workshops for kids, and gojo occasionally ran their afterschool programs—though ran was a generous term for what he did.

he wasn't the kind of coworker you'd ever expected to become friends with, though somehow, you had. maybe it was the way he always brought you coffee to meetings, even if each drink tasted more like sugar and coffee than coffee and sugar. or maybe it was how he managed to charm every kid in the building, no matter how much the kid may have disliked him in the beginning.

"late-night inspiration, huh?" he motioned toward the can in your hand.

"something like that," you sighed, avoiding his gaze by picking up another energy drink and putting it back

"what’re you working on?"

you pause, hand mid-air and debating how much to say.

"just some commissions."

"commissions," he repeated, like the word was a personal affront. "what happened to making art for fun?"

"some of us have rent to pay, gojo. who are you to talk anyway? you sign up for extra shifts just to win over the kids with pizza and candy."

gojo grinned. "that’s called strategy, sweetheart. you wouldn't understand."

you snorted, finally turning to face him. "and what's this strategy for?” you towards his basket and pick up a packet of gummies, inspecting it before tossing it back in. "new teaching method? bribery?"

"bribery's underrated," he returns with a shake of his head.

"but no, this is for me. sometimes a guy just needs sugar and carbs you know?"

you couldn't stand him half the time, but you'd also begrudgingly admitted—if only to yourself—that he was good company.

“long day?” you’re careful to keep your tone casual as you ask.

his grin doesn’t waver, and if it does you don’t notice—but his hand tightened around the basket handle. “me? nah. what about you? busy day brooding over your sketchpad?”

you smile and try to catch his eye, “something like that.”

though gojo’s gaze wasn’t on your face anymore. he’d drifted lower, catching sight of the faint rip in your jacket sleeve. you cursed inwardly; it was barely noticeable—a tiny tear at the seam where a stray shard of glass had nicked you earlier tonight. his gaze lingered like it was written in neon.

“what happened there?” his voice is light and almost lazy, but you could see the wheels turning behind his glasses.

“nothing.” you shrugged it off. “snagged it on a doorframe.”

“uh-huh.” his voice drops just enough to make the air feel warmer. “must’ve really hated that doorframe.”

you force a laugh, jaw tightening in nervousness and step past him toward the register. “not as much as i hate this conversation.”

gojo didn’t follow immediately, but you could feel his eyes on your back like a second shadow. by the time you reached the counter, he was also there, leaning against the opposite side of the aisle with his basket balanced precariously on one hand.

“funny,” he announces after a beat, his tone too casual. “you’ve got a thing for clumsy doorframes, and i’ve got a thing for evil revolving doors. guess we’re not so different, huh?”

you glanced at him in annoyance, searching his face for any crack in his mask. but there’s nothing—just that insufferable grin and sunglasses, hiding every flicker of thought behind his ridiculous confidence.

“guess not,” you breathe out, grabbing your drink and heading for the door.

“don’t stay up too late,” he calls after you, his voice dripping with amusement. “you wouldn’t want to run into any more furniture.”

you don’t turn around, and you don’t respond with another witty retort either. instead, you choose to instead flick a halfhearted wave over your shoulder. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, washing away the tension coiled in your chest.

as you rounded the corner, you allowed yourself a small smile. gojo was sharp—too sharp for his own good. but he wasn’t there yet, not tonight.

behind you and still inside the store, gojo stood frozen in place. his grin had dispersed just enough to reveal the furrow in his brow. his thumb traced absentmindedly over his basket handle as he replayed the conversation in his head.

for someone as quick on her feet as you, he knew that explanation didn’t add up. but then again, his limp and bruise wasn’t exactly subtle either.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE

[yncoreee]

STUPID IN LOVE. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis— were you just dense and oblivious or was she just not putting effort? Does she have romantic feelings for you??? She just doesn’t know.

Warnings .ᐟ Requested, 6th member reader, reader is the same age so you can imagine her older or younger by months, oblivious y/n and obvious eunchae, eunchae is down bad, tinsy tiny bit rushed, kissing, one curse word, Shinez to the rescue!

꩜ — ⵌWord count 1456

During a live she watched as you sorted your candies by color admiring your features, the smile that never left your face.

She didn’t even notice herself grinding as she admires you. “Manchae you’re staring” yunjin whispered into eunchae’s ear getting her out of her trance.

Eunchae smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not staring, I was just zoning out” she lied looking away, not wanting to look at the teasing look on Yunjin’s face.

“Zoning out? More like admiring y/n” yunjin mocked lightly pinching eunchae’s cheeks. “Get your hands off me!” Eunchae muttered, slapping away Yunjin’s hand.

“Not eunchae staring at y/n loving ㅋㅋㅋ my euny/n heart?” Kazuha read out the comment with furrowed eyebrows turning her head to the back. She looked over only to see a blushing eunchae.”she’s…..smiling ... .un-uncontrollably?” You read out in English with the same exact expression as kazuha. “Yunjin-Unnie what does that mean?” You asked, completely bewildered.

“It’s nothing too serious, they just said she has a really really bright smile when she smiles” Yunjin explained.

You raised an eyebrow at her explanation. “But doesn’t that sound longer than the original comment?” You questioned.

Yunjin realized and immediately shut you up. “You’re not the one who knows English” she hurriedly replied, looking away from you.

You pouted slightly, shrugging it off and returned to sorting out your candies while kazuha read the comments.

Another time was when she carefully watched as you studied for exams.

She felt as if she was in complete daze.

“Hey eunchae chaewon Unnie said to call you for—“ Yunjin cut herself off as soon as she peeped her head into the room and caught Eunchae being completely taken away by just your face alone.

“But she’s just too pretty,” eunchae muttered quietly, not taking her eyes off you.

“Earth to eunchae!” You called out for her constantly waving your hand in front of her, finally getting her out of her trance.

She smiled awkwardly giving you a small smile with a thumbs up.

“You’re so in love~” Yunjin cooed, teasing eunchae. “Shhh” eunchae placed her index finger against her lips, glaring at yunjin.

“Come on chaewon Unnie said dinners ready” yunjin announced leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Eunchae opened and closed her mouth to say something but just couldn’t bring herself to say. Finally she was able to say something. “Hey umm y/n can we talk after dinner?” She asked her tone soft and gentle.

You were a bit shocked as to why she wanted to suddenly have a talk but decided not to ask questions and just nodded your head.

—

“Unnie I need your helpppp” eunchae whined barging into Yunjin’s room. Yunjin’s head immediately jolted up from her pillow.

She rubbed her eyes trying to regain her composure. Her hand found its way and reached for her black glasses. “What do you need help with? Homework?” She asked, squinting her eyes at eunchae.

Eunchae gave her a what the fuck. “Not homework, romantic advice” eunchae blurted out.

“Romantic advice eh? And who do you need this advice for hm?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Eunchae scoffed like it was the most obvious thing ever. “You already know” she muttered, looking away from yunjin. “But I’m not sure I know” Yunjin pouted, clinging onto Eunchae's arm.

Eunchae shrugged her off. “Fine…..it’s y/n… happy I finally said it??” She admitted glaring at yunjin.

“So happy!” Yunjin clapped both of her hands together before dragging Eunchae to her bed, sitting her down at the edge. “So what’d you need help with?”

“I want to confess” Eunchae whispered, making eye contact with the ground. She could feel her cheeks heat up.

“Confess that’s all? Why don’t you just go up to her and say ‘hey y/n I have something to tell you! I like you?’” Yunjin questioned as if it was that easy.

“I’m super shy, you know! And who said it’s that easy?!” Eunchae sighed leaning down to rest on Yunjin’s bed, staring into the blue.

“Super shy~ super shy~ but wait a minute till you make her yours” yunjin sang cheerfully.

“Hey! I expect you to be giving me advice not teasing me?!”

“Alright alright I’ll tell you what to do now” yunjin said now in a serious tone, eunchae leaned forward waiting with anticipation for what she had to say.

“So what you’re doing to do is—“

—

“Hey chae! You said you wanted to talk about something” you said sitting next to her.

“Yeah…..” “well I wanted to ask if you’re busy tomorrow?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Hmm” you thought for a while. “Yep! I’m certainly free!” You smiled at her. Eunchae wanted to rejoice right there. On the spot but refrained herself from doing so.

“That’s good to hear…uhh wanna go out with me tomorrow ... .as in something like a date but I’m not really sure” she immediately added with an apologetic look. She wasn’t sure of what you thought of “a date”

“Huh? I don’t mind a date…but whatever I’m fine with whatever you want”

She let out a breath of relief. “Good so we’ll see tomorrow? By 4:00pm. Is that fine with you?” She gave you a thumbs up.

You nodded.

—

“Unnieeee!!! Should I wear this or that?” You wailed, barging into kazuha’s room, dumping a pile of clothes on her bed.

Kazuha raised her eyebrows with widened eyes. “Are you going somewhere important? Why all these clothes. And I thought you don’t usually have problems with picking clothes.” She questioned looking at the clothes one by one.

“Eunchae said she’s going to take me on a-maybe-date today” you returned placing clothes on your body. “Does this go?”

“Hmmm no don’t wear trousers wear skirt” she advised.

After a few minutes of searching for the perfect match you finally found the perfect fit. “This will make her stare at you all day” Kazuha proudly spoke.

—

“Oh y/n you’re ready!” Eunchae asked as soon as she saw you step out of the dorm. “By the way you look so pretty” she complimented with a light blush.

“Thanks and so do you!” You smiled softly at her.

“Shall we?” She asked, reaching out her hand for you to hold. You gently placed your hand into hers. Interlocking fingers with her.

Although she was a bit hesitant about it, she just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

The car finally stopped in front of the acquarium. Eunchae stepped out of the door waiting for you to follow suit.

As soon as you stepped out she couldn’t help but stare at you again. With a skeptical look she held onto your pinky finger.

You couldn’t help but be in awe looking at every aquatic animal. “Ooo jelly!” You exclaimed happily running over to the tank with jelly fish.

“Cuteee” eunchae chuckled. “Y/n let me take a picture of you!” She suggested bringing out her camera.

You turned to the jelly fish tank admiring it while eunchae took pictures.

Time flew by fast. It was already night time, you and eunchae waited at a park for your ride home.

You admired the stars while eunchae admired your face. “Y/n can I tell you somthing?…”

You whipped your head lookinh at her, turning your whole body to face her. “Sure why not, tell me anything”.

She hesitated before speaking up. “…..what if I told you I liked you…. Like not in a friendly way. I like you more than a friend?” She indirectly confessed.

You breath hitched at her sudden question. Your breath started to become quicker and quicker. “I-… do you?” You asked, staring into her eyes.

She blushed a bit. “Yeah……yes I do” she confessed, looking down. her face turning bright pink. A warm sensation in her chest.

She felt a finger placed under chin lifting her head up. She stared into Your [E/C] eyes. “I like you back too….for a while now….I just wasn’t sure if they were genuine feelings” you confessed.

She wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you closer. Goosebumps swarming all over your body.

You felt her hot breath on your face as she leaned closer.

She squished your face in between her palms, her lips finally crashing onto yours. It was gently and delicate.

You both finally pulled away, panting for breaths. “Kiss me every time!” She giggled at your statement.

A loud gasp was heard behind you. Feeling a bit petrified both of you slowly turned around only to see a shocked leader. “You both have lots of explaining to do when we get home!” Chaewon demanded.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.1 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, drinking, Jungkook just being a little shit, small angst (squint) ❥word-count: 13.1k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hi, checking in.” You set your bag down next to you on the ground. The front desk person took your info and handed you a key to your room. You admittedly arrive later in the day than you had intended, as it was already evening.

You noticed the sign had been placed at the entrance ‘Welcome friends and family for the Kim and Abel wedding.’ 

You had finally made it to this weekend. Namjoon and Melanie were getting married. 

You as the maid of honor had spent many months planning out every step of this wedding with Melanie. The hotel she always dreamed of, the food she insisted on having, the music down to the minute. Every detail was planned from top to bottom. 

You finally could get some sleep after today. 

You headed up the elevator to the floor Melanie said they were staying in. Her and Namjoon had elected to stay in separate rooms for the weekend. She took the honeymoon suite and Namjoon is in another room on another floor. A quick ride up the elevator basically led right to the room. 

The door was creaked open so you pushed the door open to let yourself in.

“Hello?” You dragged the word looking into the room, You immediately spotted Melanie and Ash. Sitting on the couch immediately inside the door. 

“You made it my love!” Melanie jumped to her feet. A little bit of champagne spilling from the glass she had in her hand. 

You set your bag on the ground and rounded your way around the couch to hug her.

“Your knight in shining armor has arrived.” You do a dramatic bow.

“What am I then?” Ash laughs a little at your gesture. 

“The jester obviously.” She gets up and you hug her as well. 

You had immediately noticed that they were both in matching pajamas and you could only assume that a pair was waiting for you in this room somewhere as well. Melanies had bride on the back of the top, you could only assume Ash’s had bridesmaid on the back. Which meant-

“You need your pajamas!” Melanie ran into the other room where the bed was and emerged immediately with a pair of the same silk blue pajamas. Yup, yours had maid of honor written on the back of the top. 

Ash put a glass of champagne in your hand. 

“I love them.” A little cheesy but you were happy to make her happy. 

“Yay!” Melanie bounced, she was rather red in the face, so you could only imagine she has had a bit to drink.

You began to shed your clothes from your work day. Ash and Melanie cheered at your mini non sexual strip show. 

“Stop.” You laugh at them. Throwing the pajama top on. 

“I didn’t want strippers for my bachelorette party.” Melanie teased. 

“Should have paid for a better one.” Ash giggled.

You kick her ankle, and she winces but was still laughing. 

“200 bucks and I’ll give you a real show.” You fully dress yourself now.

“Oh, sounds like a really good deal.” Melanie laughed and winked at you. You rolled your eyes, you do a little spin to show off the pajamas.

“They looked great!”

You sit yourself down on the couch with both of them and take a sip of your champagne. Finally letting the weight of the day come over you, Ash rested her head on your shoulder. 

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask, looking to Melanie. 

“I just wanted an easy night in with you guys. Nothing crazy because the next three days are going to be extremely busy.” 

She was correct. Although the day tomorrow would be easy, you were having the official Bachelorette party. Melanie had never done a bar crawl before so you and Ash set that up for you guys. Then Saturday was going to be mostly spending time with the guests and family outside of the wedding and the rehearsal dinner. 

You would barely have time to yourselves really. Let alone Namjoon and Melanie will be in entertainment mode the entire time.

Basically, the lay of the land tonight was, have fun but not too much.

“Good, I’m exhausted from the travel.” You dramatically huff out. 

“Didn’t it take you like half an hour to get here from the hospital?” Melanie raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Exactly, I’m exhausted.” Throwing an arm over your eyes. Although you were surprised you still had energy after your shift today.

A knock on the hotel room interrupts you guys. Melanie was about to get up to answer it but you shot up in protest against her.

“Uh the bride does not answer the door to anyone. Allow me my lady.” You push her back down, and give a little bow.

“Stop.” She whines but also laughs. 

You trot on over to the door, and an amusing smile on your face. You swiftly open the door, only to be met with the groom himself. 

“Who is it?” Ash calls to you. 

“It’s the actual stripper!” You open the door wider so Namjoon could enter the room. He gave you half hug when entering the room. 

“Oh I can get down with this strip show.” Melanie props her legs up on the couch, taking a sip of her champagne. 

“I’ll get the bills.” Ash runs to the next room to get her bag, causing a little laughter amongst you and Melanie. Namjoon was blushing and red from ear to ear. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m only here to say goodbye for the night.” Namjoon rounds his way over to Melanie and gives her a short kiss but then Melanie begs for another one so he complies. 

“Hey, I think that’s extra.” Ash comes back in the room, she has her wallet instead. She pulls out a couple one dollar bills. “Here Namjoon for your time.”

You and Melanie are giggling again as Namjoon shoves the money back to Ash. He was just smiling but you could tell he knew he needed to get out of here fast. 

“Any big plans tonight, Namjoon?” You ask and find your way back on the couch next to Melanie. Ash follows just next to you. 

“Not sure yet. Jungkook planned the evening so I’m at his mercy.” Namjoon didn’t seem to bother but just the mention of Jungkook left a terrible taste in your mouth. 

“Ugh, good luck with him.” You take a sip of your champagne, Melanie does bump your leg with her knee, signaling to be nice. 

“You promised.” She gave you a pointed look. 

“Technically I only promised I would be nice to him. Never said I wouldn’t be mean behind his back.” You try your very best, but he just always manages to just push your buttons. 

“Well I’m making it a rule starting now.” Melanie pats your shoulder. 

“Okay, I will be nice the whole time. Namjoon I hope tonight is very fun.” Your raise your glass to him. 

“Thank you.” He bows to you slightly. “I should get going before he comes looking for me.” 

Namjoon and Melanie kiss one more time and Namjoon excuses himself. 

“Bye, Namjoon,” you and Ash sang in unison, waving dramatically as he quickly exited.

You both giggled.

Eventually the three of you moved into the room with the king size bed and all settled in. Drink champagne and turned on some random rom com that was available through the hotel. 

Settling into this very long weekend. 

At some point the three of you dozed off. You woke up to the room dark, but you felt like your mouth was completely dried out. Very carefully you tried to worm your way out of the middle of the bed. You grabbed the ice bucket because there was no way you were going to drink room temperature water.

The ice machine wasn’t too far, scooping out some ice and heading back to the room, you were stopped once up the hall you heard the elevator ding. Watching two people stumble out of the elevator into the hall. The second person catching the first. 

“I just want to see her, it’ll be so quick,” Namjoon slurred, barely able to stand on his own.

“Dude you will have the rest of life to see her, let’s get you back to the room.” The second guy, who you can clearly see now is Taehyung. Also slurring his words. Holding onto Namjoon like his life depended upon it. 

“Guys.” You made your way over. Both of them immediately take notice of you. They both stood up straight, trying to act sober. “Go back to your rooms. We have such a long weekend ahead of us.” 

“You’re right,” Namjoon sighed, but then he perked up. “Not after I do this!” He suddenly made a dash for Melanie’s door, but before you could react, someone else stepped in, pulling Namjoon back.

“Okay, that’s enough for you Casanova.” Jungkook spoke, patting Namjoon on the back. 

Your entire body physically repulsed away at the site of him. Your face immediately falling into  a displeased look at him. Jungkook noticed, and scoffed under his breath. Thinking, what could I have possibly done now?

“Aw what’s with the grumpy face? ” Taehyung comes to you and tries to poke your cheeks to make you smile, it makes you laugh. You grab both of his hands before he gets a chance. 

“Nothing, you need to get some sleep my dear Tae, you too Namjoon.” You pat Taehyung on the cheek.

 Before you can react he gives you a hug before he then breaks away and grabs Namjoon and pulls him over to the elevator pressing the button a thousand times. Jungkook stays where he was, looking at the two of them. He didn;t have any intention to get Namjoon Drunk tonight, but one too many at the hotel bar got too him. He should have been making sure he had food as much as he had drank. He paused his mental scolding to look at you.

“Yes?” You say dryly to him. Waiting for whatever retort he’s to give you. 

Jungkook lingered, his eyes sweeping over you as if sizing you up. “Nice pajamas,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He very well knew these were Melanie’s pick and he really had no issue with them. He had an issue with one particular person in them.

“Thanks? Anything else?” You couldn’t be less amused. 

You walk to the door which he was standing somewhat close too. Just close enough for you to catch a cigar smell, not his usual stink of cigarettes you were used too. 

“God you reek.” You couldn’t help but get one punch in before the weekend started officially started. After this, according to Melanie's request several months ago, rainbows and kindness.

Jungkook had gotten a  similar lecture form her as well. Bring the whole unicorn or something like that. He also wanted to get one last punch in before this all started.

“Hmm tell that to your perfume, Eau de Desperate. Seems like you wear it by the gallon these days.”

“Desperate, huh? At least I smell nice, unlike you, who’s one cigarette away from the grave.” You unlock the hotel door. You stop before you step all the way in. Melanie’s words bounced around in your head, “Listen, I’m willing to be nice this weekend if you can. Melanie made me promise, so that will be my last dig of the weekend. Deal?”

You were being genuine but it did kill you inside to have to offer something like this. 

“I can’t make you any promises, since I’m aware how unreliable you are.” Jungkook pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one between his teeth. “Deal. That was my last one.” 

You took in a long breath. Hit right in the nerve he was aiming for.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” You closed the door on him. 

Letting the door slam in Jungkook’s face, you didn’t see the subtle twitch of his jaw as he sauntered back to the elevator, trying to shake off the lingering irritation. His encounter with you had already grated on him more than he wanted to admit. You always had a way of getting under his skin. This was pretty light compared to previous spats.

As the elevator doors slid open, he found Taehyung struggling to keep Namjoon upright, the two of them stumbling in. Jungkook sighed, stepping in after them, hitting the button for their floor.

"Hey!" Namjoon suddenly yelled, his voice echoing in the small space as he pointed a wobbly finger at Jungkook. "Don’t bug Y/N this weekend."

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at Namjoon’s sudden outburst. "I won’t," he replied, though the agreement felt more like a reluctant surrender than a promise.

“I’m serious! They worked really hard on this wedding, so you be nice.” Namjoon’s words were slurred, his head lolling as he leaned heavily against Jungkook, who had to push him back gently to keep him from collapsing entirely.

"I’ll try my very best," Jungkook muttered, more to himself than to Namjoon, as the elevator doors opened. He really was going to do his best, this was a really important weekend for him too even though he hasn't been around to help. He tightened his grip on Namjoon’s arm, pulling him out of the elevator and into the hallway.

Taehyung dragged his feet behind them, fumbling for his room key with clumsy fingers. “Hasn’t it been five years of this back and forth between you two now?” he asked, his voice curious but also tinged with the laziness of someone who’s had a bit too much to drink.

Jungkook’s expression dropped, and a bitter taste filled his mouth at the thought of everything that had happened between him and you. "Something like that.” He said curtly, not wanting to delve into the messy history between you both. Taehyung knew the important stuff already. No one knew all the details.

Jungkook snatched the room key from Taehyung's hand, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. He opened the door to their hotel room and flicked on the lights. The harsh brightness made him wince slightly as he helped Namjoon over to one of the beds. Namjoon collapsed face-first onto the mattress, immediately out cold.

"Do not let him leave," Jungkook ordered, pointing sternly at Taehyung, who was in the process of kicking off his shoes.

"I won’t!" Taehyung responded, holding up his hands in surrender, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

Jungkook lingered for a moment, watching as Taehyung struggled to pull the covers over Jungkook glanced at Namjoon, who was snoring into the pillow, the room heavy with the scent of alcohol and the weight of unspoken words. He knew he should stay, sober Namjoon up, joke around like they used to, but he was too worn out. Work had been relentless, his personal life a mess, and every time he tried to help with the wedding, something pulled him away.

Jungkook made his way to his own room, guilt twisting in his gut. Namjoon had always been like a brother, always there, and Jungkook hated feeling like he’d failed him. Which meant that knowing every detail of this weekend was so important to him. And now, as if things weren’t complicated enough, there was you—always clashing with him.

He sank onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shut out the noise in his head. This weekend was going to test him in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He checked his phone one last time, then tossed it aside, determined not to let his thoughts run wild tonight.

But the next morning, the tension was thick, and the silence between you was impossible to ignore.

"Okay, everyone should be seated! Namjoon’s at the front. First bridesmaid and groomsman, you’re up!" the wedding coordinator called out, her voice echoing in the mostly empty hall. Melanie’s sister and one of Namjoon’s friends? Brother? You weren sure, exchanged a quick glance before stepping forward. They’d only arrived today, missing the previous festivities, so they were clearly trying to get their bearings as they moved down the aisle.

“Next pair, let’s go!” The coordinator’s shortcut through the mild chatter.

Ash looped her arm through Taehyung’s, her confidence obvious even in a casual practice. You were jealous of her walking partner. She wore a small, mischievous grin as she sauntered down the aisle, adding a bit of flair that drew a few chuckles from the small group.

You barely registered it, though, because you were preoccupied with the awkward tension between you and Jungkook. Your arm rested on his like a dead weight. The idea of touching him—even for a rehearsal—made you want to squirm. The distance you both kept was almost ridiculous, but neither of you was willing to close the gap.

A hand landed firmly on both your shoulders from behind, shoving you together. Bumping your shoulders together harshly. You stumbled forward in sync, groaning under your breath like rebellious teenagers.

“You two look ridiculous standing that far apart!” Melanie hissed, shooting you both a glare. “It’s just practice, guys. You can fake it for five minutes, right?”

Before either of you could snap back, the coordinator’s voice rang out. "Maid of Honor and Best Man—go!"

You both moved forward, managing to match each other’s pace despite the obvious discomfort. The silence between you had held all morning, which at least made things less unbearable—but having him this close was testing your patience. His mere presence gnawed at your mood, a constant irritant you couldn’t escape.   

As you reached the end of the aisle, you split directions, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. You shuddered in revulsion, rubbing your arm as if you could erase the feeling of his proximity. Jungkook caught the gesture and rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his irritation.

"Alright," the coordinator said once everyone was back in place. "After this, the music changes, everyone stands, and then Melanie will walk down the aisle." Melanie does a quick run-through, smiling as she walked toward Namjoon at the front, playfully grabbing his arm when she reached him.

“Perfect. I just needed everyone to do this once before Sunday. Does everyone get it?” The coordinator scanned the group, getting nods in response. It was simple enough.

She moved on to speak to Melanie and Namjoon, while you stepped forward to join the rest of the wedding party in a small circle. 

Namjoon and Melanie had the whole weekend scheduled down to a T. It was Jungkook’s and your job to mostly help get them from point A to point B. Today was just the parties but tomorrow they had a family breakfast, extended family pictures, lunch with the parents, some other activities and then the rehearsal dinner.  With how busy tomorrow was going to be, the easier you were going to make today. 

“See easy peasy.” Ash bumped your shoulder, knowing your disgust for Jungkook.

“I feel like I need a shower.” You shiver, folding your arms over your chest.

“Well now we just get to have an easy day, and party hard tonight.” She placed both of her hands on your shoulders and rocked your forwards and backwards in excitement, you smiled. 

Which reminded you that you did have to talk to Jungkook about making sure he got Namjoon up and going in the morning. Namjoon and Melanie had both agreed they could get super drunk at their respective parties but that someone had to make sure they made it to breakfast in the morning. The breakfast started at 9.

Jungkook was across the room preoccupied with Taehyung telling him something about the last wedding he had gone too. Jungkook had a similar feeling, your perfume lingered and he felt like he needed to get clean because it was giving him a headache. Your presence doing just the same, almost like you had heard his thoughts. He felt a pat on his shoulder. 

Turning to see you, “Yes?”

“I need to talk to you about tomorrow morning. Now the breakfast starts at 9 so we need to make sure that these two get to bed as soon as we get home.  I can come down and help get Namjoon up in th morning if you need.” You were rambling really quickly and Jungkook felt like he could barely keep up. 

“You worry about your guy and I’ll worry about mine.” Jungkook nodded, wanting to get an excuse to get you to go away. 

“I’m just suggesting it, Jungkook. Offering help is not a crime.” You steady your breathing, fighting the urge to punch him. 

“I’ll get him there in plenty of time, promise.” Jungkook not wanting to cause a scene leaves you just with that, he figures keeping his responses short will keep either of you from getting too riled up. 

Although a part of his mind wanted to make some retort about you actually arriving on time in the morning. He kept it to himself. 

“Great. I’m trying to get Melanie there by 8:45. So you don’t have to worry about being too early.”

“Sounds fine.” 

You didn’t say anything and you just walked away. He could tell you were annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm and to be fair he didn’t care to grace you with better responses. 

“Wow I think that was the most normal conversation I have ever seen between the two of you.” Taehyung nodded, patted Jungkook on the back. 

“I would  have rather stepped on a nail but, this weekend is about Namjoon. I want everything to go well.” Jungkook huffed, looking at Namjoon and Melanie who were having a quiet conversation just the two of them. You took a moment before you ended up joining them. 

Taehyung's face was twisted in confusion. Your feud had always confused him, since he loved Jungkook and loved you. Made no sense to him why you two shouldn’t get along and yet here we were. 

“So tonight…” Jungkook started

They discussed the plans for tonight. They had a similar plan to do a bar crawl, unbeknownst to you having made a similar plan. After the little practice everyone split off. Spending the hours in whatever ways every person needed too.

After a while everyone started getting ready for the evening. Melanie really loved the idea of wearing cheesy bridal party outfits, so she had a classic little white dress and a crown that said bride across it. The rest of you had matching short black dresses, you got a sash saying made of honor and Ash and Serena had ones that said bridesmaids. It was cute, and would make for good memories later. You had taken a few polaroids in the room once everyone got ready. 

It felt like the night had arrived so quickly because before you had known it your crawl had begun. The first bar was just a little irish bar that ended up being super lame, the second bar you thought was a theme bar but ended up just being a sports bar so you guys ran out of there quick. The third stop on your location was more club than bar, but you all had a few drinks now.

You were ready for some dancing. 

“Oh dude they host an emo night!” Ash points at a little flier they had posted in the hallway into the club.

“Oh we are so going to that.” You cheer, catching a glimpse of the flier to make note of the date.

The club pulsed with blinding lights and a bassline that shook the floor beneath your feet. Bodies crowded every inch of the space, and the noise was almost overwhelming. Melanie led the charge, her excitement spilling over as she flashed her “Bride” crown to anyone who glanced her way. You, Ash, and Serena followed closely behind, weaving through the throng of people with linked hands to avoid getting separated.

Ash tugged you toward the bar, quickly ordering a round of drinks. “To Melanie!” she laughed, raising her glass.

“To Melanie!” you all echoed, clinking glasses before downing the drinks in unison. The alcohol burned pleasantly, warming you from the inside out and washing away the lingering annoyance from earlier.

Melanie pulled you onto the dance floor, her infectious energy pulling you in. The music thumped around you, loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and you let it take over, swaying and spinning beside your friends. Ash was laughing as she attempted a ridiculous dance move, nearly knocking into Serena, who shoved her back playfully.

“I love this!” Melanie shouted over the music, spinning in her white dress, her joy radiating like a beacon in the dark, crowded room. She grabbed your hand and twirled you around, almost causing you to stumble. You couldn’t help but laugh, getting swept up in the carefree moment.

“Only Melanie could turn a random club into her own private party,” you teased, still holding her hand as you both moved to the beat.

As the night wore on, you found yourself momentarily breaking away from the group to catch your breath. The room was a blur of colors and sound, and you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Your job had gotten more intense lately, that on top of the wedding had gotten you completely wound up. You leaned against the bar, looking to get something a little stronger.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender leaning over the bar to you. You took a glance at his nametag then back to him. He was seriously attractive.

“I don’t know Felix.” You flirt, “Something sweet and strong. Surprise me.”

He started on something immediately, you pulled out your card and watched him. He had long blonde hair and a cute face. You tried to hide your obvious stare but the alcohol already in your system was getting the better of you. To your surprise he put two down in front of you. 

“Two?.” 

“One for the bride. Miss Honor. One is on the house.” he grinned, you tilt your head. 

“Which one?” You tease. Tapping between the two drinks. 

Felix chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the music. “The one for the cuter one, obviously.” He shot you a wink, and you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a rush of confidence bubble up. It wasn’t often that you found yourself in these kinds of playful exchanges, especially with all the stress you’d been under lately. Tonight, though, it felt good.

You picked up one of the drinks, the fruity aroma already making your mouth water, and took a sip. It was sweet with just the right amount of bite, exactly what you needed. “Damn, you’re good at this. What’s it called?”

“Midnight Kiss,” he said, resting his elbows on the bar as he watched you taste it. “Perfect for someone who looks like they need a little midnight magic.”

You humm, “Cute. Can I get two more? For the other bridesmaids.” 

“You got it.”

Felix steps away to make those and you take the opportunity to look back out to the girls. Melanie and Ash were screaming and jumping up and down at the change of the song. You laughed and were eager to get back. Felix brought over two more of the same cocktail. You began trying to figure out a way to manage to get them over to the girls. In your deep thought, you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings. You end up getting bumped in the shoulder by someone trying to pass by.

“Sorry.” The familiar voice buzzed in your ears, there it was again, the headache. 

Jungkook stepped up, Taehyung trailing behind, a faint smile on his face as if he already knew this was a bad idea. Namjoon’s other groomsmen who you didn’t know the name of was also present. “Well if it isn’t the wicked witch of the west?” Jungkook said, his voice dripping with annoyance.

You crossed your arms, and give him a snide smile. “Funny, all I see is a cowardly lion.”

“I knew those flying monkeys we past by earlier were yours.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a challenge in his gaze, one that prickled under your skin.

You crossed your arms, squaring up to him. “What are you guys even doing here anyways?”

Taehyung tried to cut in, keeping things light. “We are on a bar crawl. Funny we all ended up in the same place”

“I planned the same thing. Melanie had never done one.” You trace the rim of the drink Felix had given you.

“Jungkook’s original plan ended up falling through, so we decided this at the last second.” Taehyung added, he was doing anything to diffuse the tension between the both of you.

You forced a smile, trying to keep things civil despite the tension buzzing between you. “Great minds think alike I guess.”

Taehyung nodded, eager to steer things in a lighter direction. “Exactly. Fun coincidence.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. “Coincidence or bad luck? Still figuring that out.”

You shot him a smirk, refusing to back down. “Well, if it’s bad luck, at least you’re consistent. Haven’t seen you get anything right in a long time.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitched, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by amusement. “Yeah? Well, I’m just here to collect my prize for putting up with you. Maybe they’ll name a drink after it—‘Annoyance of Honor,’ bitter with a dash of drama.”

You snorted, raising your glass. “Better than ‘Pathetic Man’ watered down and pointless.”

Taehyung stifled a laugh, stepping between the two of you before things escalated. “Alright, alright, you two—enough with the drink menu! I’m pretty sure the bar doesn’t serve ‘Petty Martini,’ but I’ll check just in case.”

Jungkook bit back his retort, the moment of humor cooling the tension a bit. You glanced at Taehyung, feeling a grudging sense of relief that he’d managed to cut in before things got out of hand.

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the shoulder, flashing an easygoing grin. “Come on, let’s get back to the table. I’ll buy the first round if it keeps you two from turning this into a bar brawl.”

You exchanged one last look with Jungkook, the challenge still lingering but softened by the brief, unexpected exchange. For tonight, the battle would wait. Instead, you huffed and turned away, joining Melanie and the girls again, your mind still racing from the exchange. You could have definitely come up with a better come back but your inebriated mind didn’t have the patience for it.

“What took you so long?” Ash asked, raising an eyebrow as she noticed the tension in your expression.

You forced a smile, passing out the drinks. “Just dealing with a little headache,” you said, brushing off the encounter with Jungkook like it was nothing. You filled them in on Felix, the flirty bartender, hoping the distraction would lighten the mood.

Ash let out a dramatic sigh, already halfway through her drink. “I swear, you’ve got a magnet for chaos.”

You laughed, but it was hollow, the tension from earlier still simmering beneath your skin. You took a long sip of your drink, letting the sweet burn linger in your throat. Tonight was supposed to be fun—a chance to unwind after everything. 

Across the bar, Jungkook tried to shake off the encounter as well. 

“Your betrothed is here.” Taehyung nudged Namjoon with a playful smile.

Namjoon glanced up, his expression brightening as he looked around for Melanie. His smile was enough to momentarily lift the mood. “Where?”

“She’s with the rest of them on the dance floor, We saw them when we were at the bar.” Jungkook, trying to dance around the scene you two caused.

Taehyung shot a sideways glance at Jungkook before answering. “Not without a little confrontation first.”

Namjoon’s smile faltered as he turned his attention to Jungkook. “What happened?”

Jungkook shrugged, taking another long sip of his drink. “Had a run-in with the maid of honor,” he said, his tone dismissive, but his eyes betrayed the frustration still bubbling beneath the surface.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed, a hint of disappointment creeping into his features. “Small spat, nothing to fret over,” Taehyung cut in, trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled.

“Small spat?” Namjoon’s voice was laced with disbelief. He turned to Jungkook, his tone sharper than usual. “What did you do this time?”

Jungkook bristled, his annoyance flaring up as he met Namjoon’s gaze. “Why do you always assume it’s my fault?”

Namjoon’s expression was unyielding, a mixture of concern and frustration. “Because I know you, Jungkook. And I know how you two are. You don’t need to prove a point every time you’re in the same room.”

Jungkook bit back a retort, swallowing down the urge to argue further. He knew Namjoon was right, but admitting that would mean facing the uncomfortable truth about his own behavior—and the fact that fighting with you felt almost like second nature now. Comforting in a morbid way.

“It’s not like I go looking for it, nothing happened. We were very… civil… considering.” Jungkook took another sip of his drink.

Taehyung nodded, “He’s not wrong, they have been very normal. It’s strange.” 

“That is not something I’d ever think you two would be described as.”

“Enough about Y/N.” Jungkook would use any excuse to not have to talk about you anymore, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Namjoon leaned back, trying to relax as Namjoon's brother threw an arm around Taehyung and started chatting animatedly about some old story. The conversation drifted back to lighter topics. 

Namjoon, trying to reset the mood, raised his own glass. “To tonight. And to the people who keep us on our toes.”

Jungkook smirked, a bit of his usual bravado creeping back in as he clinked his glass against the others. “To Namjoon.”

The group erupted in cheers, but beneath it all, the unresolved animosity lingered. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, the laughter ringing in his ears as he tried to shake off the encounter. 

****************************************************

Not too long after your little group ended up moving to one more bar. That is where the night took a little bit of a nose dive. Serena and Melanie had drank one too many and the night devolved into tears. Melanie talking about how in love with Namjoon she is that she couldn’t hold herself together anymore. She was a lightweight so it didn’t take much to get to this point. 

You and Ash decided it was time to call it at this point, getting the four of you back to the hotel.

You actually ended up sleeping in your own room last night. Making the morning much easier because you had set several alarms to make sure you and Melanie could both make it down to breakfast in time. That included making sure Melanie didn’t look extremely hung over. Melanie threw curses at you every so often, most of which just made you laugh as you got her down to the lobby. 

“I’ll make you a plate.” You whisper to her as you both make it into the room. She gave you a thankful smile as you made your way over to the breakfast buffet that had been set up. 

You decided to keep everything light, Melanie didn’t throw up last night but she was not feeling great this morning. So you kept the plate to fruit, and some toast. Easy things. You continue down the line, when Jungkook comes up and starts filling a plate as well. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” He spoke behind you, you didn’t dare turn around to look at him. Your face twitching up in annoyance. A familiar sentence coming from his mouth.

“It’s 8:45, right when I said I would be here.” You continue down the line, stepping further away from him. 

“And we were here at 8:30. Since I know how Namjoon’s family are all early risers. So sad they had to wait for the bride to arrive.”

It actually annoyed you, you looked around and sure enough Namjoon was sitting with his family.

“I’ll have you know we were up and moving at 7. Either way, Melanie is the bride. She can arrive whenever she feels like.” You turn to him now.

“Well I was certainly worried. Since you have a habit of sleeping through important things.”

“Let’s not do this. After all, this isn’t about us.” You give him a flat smile, biting back your disdain. 

He couldn’t help but agree. “Fine.” 

“I have today planned down to the minute, so if we just stay out of each others way maybe that would be best.” With that you leave him. Letting that be satisfying enough.

You made your way to Melanie, who was deep in conversation with her parents. As you handed Melanie the plate you’d prepared, her grateful smile said everything words couldn’t.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abel, it’s so good to see you again,” You said warmly, shaking her father’s hand before her mother pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Abel gushed, squeezing you affectionately.

“I hope you’ve found everything alright, and your check-in went smoothly,” you smiled, glancing between them.

“It’s been wonderful,” her father replied. “Everything’s gone off without a hitch so far.”

“You and Melanie really outdid yourselves with the schedule. It’s so thoughtful—there’s something for everyone,” Mrs. Abel added, her enthusiasm contagious. You and Melanie had spent countless hours planning every detail of the weekend, and hearing it appreciated felt like a small victory.

“Oh, I barely did anything. This was all Melanie’s vision,” you said, squeezing Melanie’s shoulder with a smile. It was true; Melanie’s dream wedding came to life with the help of a meticulous coordinator.

“You’re being too humble,” Melanie chimed in, her voice playful. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/N. They planned this entire day, down to the smallest detail.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to the pickleball match this afternoon,” her father said, chuckling. “I’ve got a rematch with Melanie’s grandpa.”

You laughed, appreciating the lightheartedness. “That’ll be one for the books.”

Just then, Jungkook appeared behind you, his presence immediately setting your nerves on edge. “That sounds like a game that I cannot miss.” he said, his tone light but with a familiar, teasing edge. You faltered for a second, your smile stiffening as Jungkook stepped closer, and you could feel the victory in his eyes.

Jungkook saw you falter for a second and took it as a small victory, “Nice to meet you, you must be Melanie’s parents. I’m Jungkook, we hadn’t had a chance to meet.” 

Jungkook shakes both of their hands. Giving his brightest and warmest smiles between the both of them. You would think it’s fake but he is genuine in his greeting. 

“Oh you’re the best man!” Melanie’s mom beamed, “I’ve heard so many stories from Namjoon and Melanie about you. It’s nice to have a face to the name now.”

“Hopefully all good things.” Jungkook grimaced, looking to Melanie and completely avoiding the daggers you were staring at him. 

You laugh to yourself, probably only bad stories with his track record. Melanie catches you and gives you a pointed look. You mouth a sorry to her. Neither of Melanie’s parents caught what you said, as Jungkook was going on and impressing them and answering questions about himself. You just kept a tight smile on your lips.

“Anyways, I am just here to help everyone get from point A to point B today.” Jungkook bloated and put a hand over his heart. “Any questions you have you can ask me or Y/N.”

He looked at you, you almost couldn’t hide the surprise you had. If anyone had any answers to any questions about the day it was you. You planned this day down. He couldn’t answer any questions.

Mrs. Abel smiled, completely unaware of the tension between you. “It must be so easy to manage all of this with a great team like you two.”

 Melanie bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the statement. “Oh, you have no idea,” Melanie said, patting your back. “Right? A dream team.” 

You paused a little too long, “Yes… uhh Jungkook and I will be available for anything anyone needs today.”

You really stumble through your words. It's painful for you, but funny for Jungkook. Watching you force the words out even though if he was asked the same thing, he would struggle as well. 

“I just remembered,” You clear your throat, finding the first excuse to speak to Jungkook, “Namjoon’s parents wanted to meet the two of you before your joint lunch today. They are just over there.” 

You point between them close to the window where Namjoon and his brother were in a small huddle together. 

“Oh that would be lovely.” Melanie’s mom pulls her husband along over to them. Melanie decides to follow close in tow. Turning back to the two of you and wiggling her fingers between the both of you like she had her eye on both you and Jungkook. You waited until they were out of earshot.

“What's wrong with you?” You ask, keeping a smile on your face and looking at Jungkook. He feigned innocence in his smile. 

“What?” Jungkook tilted his head, wondering what you could have a problem with now?

“Since when did you decide to be so helpful? And since when were we a team?” You kept the smile up but your voice dripped with your rage. 

“I wasn’t able to help with any of the wedding planning. Believe it or not I love weddings. Namjoon is my best friend so I made sure that I knew today and tomorrow's schedules in and out. So, I could help this all move along as smoothly as possible.” He sounded genuine, but you still weren’t buying it. Weren’t buying that he was blowing smoke out of his ass. 

“Oh really?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “What’s happening at 2?”

“Wine tasting for the family or a drawing class for the artsy types,” he recited effortlessly.

“4?”

“Pickleball and the extended family photoshoot with the bride and groom in the garden.”

“11:30?” you shot back, expecting him to slip.

Jungkook smirked. “Nice try. Nothing’s planned at 11:30 because that’s when Melanie, Namjoon, and their parents are at lunch. The rest of us are on our own until activities resume at 2. Just like you scheduled.”

He didn’t just know the schedule—he’d nailed every detail. Your irritation simmered beneath your carefully composed expression, but Jungkook’s smirk told you he knew exactly how much this was getting under your skin.

“Guess I underestimated you,” you finally muttered, the words bitter in your mouth.

Jungkook leaned in just a touch, his voice low and smug. “You usually do.”

You sigh for a moment, you felt awkward because you were fighting every instinct in you to say he looks like trash or something. 

“Rainbows and kindness,” you mutter under your breath, the words a futile mantra against the frustration simmering inside you.

“What was that?” Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow, already catching onto your annoyance.

“It’s what Melanie told me to be. So, that what I’m trying to do.”

He chuckles, the sound smug. “Yeah, well, Namjoon said something similar.”

“Again, let’s just stay as far apart as we can.” 

“Easy.”

From that point on, you’re both doing your best to stay in your own lanes, but it’s impossible. As the maid of honor and best man, your roles keep intersecting, forcing you into the same space over and over again. Family members keep approaching, asking questions, and every interaction feels like another round in a never-ending battle. It’s not enough to just help; you and Jungkook are determined to outshine each other at every turn.

When a minor crisis breaks out over the seating arrangements, you step in, taking charge and fixing the issue with quick, efficient adjustments. You’re feeling proud—until you turn around and see Jungkook guiding the servers with a charm that has them hanging on his every word.

“Make sure the champagne is properly chilled before the toasts,” he instructs, his tone smooth and authoritative. The servers nod eagerly, clearly impressed.

You sidle up to him, maintaining a smile for the benefit of the guests nearby. “Didn’t know you were the expert on bubbly now.”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, flashing you a grin that’s equal parts irritating and infuriating. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it’s perfect.”

“Oh, please,” you say, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ve been coordinating this for weeks. I don’t need a last-minute savior swooping in.”

He raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “I’m not trying to save anything, just making sure Namjoon and Melanie get the day they deserve, remember? You should try it sometime—teamwork.”

You don’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to head off to the room where the drawing class is happening.. But even as you’re leaving, you can feel Jungkook’s presence on the other side of the room, always just a step behind or ahead, always in your orbit.

Later, you’re guiding Melanie’s extended family through a lineup for the family photos when you catch sight of Jungkook doing the same with Namjoon’s side. He’s charming, attentive, and he even manages to make the grumpy uncle crack a smile. It’s infuriating how good he is at this, and the worst part is that you know he’s doing it on purpose—to get under your skin and, maybe, to prove that he belongs here just as much as you.

As the day winds down, you both end up at the drinks table, refilling your glasses with water. The quiet moment feels like a truce, but not a comfortable one.

“You’ve really been busting your ass today,” you admit, your tone begrudging as you sip your water.

Jungkook leans against the table, his smirk never fully leaving his face. “Told you. I take this seriously.”

“You’ve memorized the schedule almost as well as I wrote it.” you say, half impressed, half annoyed.

“What can I say? Namjoon’s my best friend. I wanted to be ready for anything.” He shrugs, but there’s pride in his voice. “Besides, I figured you’d be busy enough handling the details. Someone had to pick up the slack.”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from retorting. “Still doesn’t mean I find you any less shitty, you know that?”

Jungkook laughs softly, a rare moment of genuine amusement. “Right back at you.”

For a brief second, the tension between you eases, replaced by an understanding that you’re both here for the same reason: to make sure your best friends have the perfect wedding. It’s fleeting, though, gone as soon as it arrives when Jungkook straightens up, that competitive glint back in his eyes.

“See you later. Let’s see who cracks first,” he says, holding out his glass in a  toast.

You raise your glass to him in a challenge, your smile more determined than ever. “Don’t hold your breath.”

As you part ways, you can already feel the simmering rivalry gearing up for another round. But deep down, there’s a tiny, begrudging respect forming—though neither of you would ever admit it.

Finally you all had made it to the rehearsal dinner though. 

Which luckily was more casual and the bridal party and all the guests got to come and say hello to the happy couple. Melanie had coordinated  a lovely dinner for tonight, and they kept it light so that everyone could just take time to meet each other. This was the first time most of the family would be meeting. 

Jungkook disappeared at some point in the afternoon. Which made you feel a little lighter and you felt like it was easier to focus on talking with family members and help people find the rehearsal dinner. 

“Feel like you have been a ghost all day.” Ash came up to you and handed you a glass with some cocktail. 

“I could say the same for you.” You take a sip. “I feel like I just floated here. So, ghost is accurate.”

“I’ve been trying to pick out the wild card for the weekend.” Ash said this in a quieter tone and you laugh.

 “Oh yeah? Who’s giving you the vibe?” You glance around the room. 

“Right now my number one is Namjoon’s uncle.” She points over to the bar, “He has taken full advantage of the open bar. He gives me the ‘takes the mic and gives his own speech’ type, I kind of want to see it happen but I’m also ready to take him down.”

“Strong contender.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“What about you, anyone giving you a vibe?” Ash leaned against you a little bit, keeping your conversation close to yourselves.

“Hmm…” You look around the room, “Definitely Melanie’s divorced aunt and uncle. She’s basically a child to them since they had none of their own. They keep trying to one up each other all day.”

Sounds familiar.

“Oh that’s solid. Well if it’s neither of those, maybe it’s you and Jungkook.” 

“Over my dead body.” You roll your eyes, “He’s insufferable but we made a promise to be civil. Although trying, I think we did really good today at keeping it casual. I'll take the win.”

“Speaking of, where is he, and Tae, where are our groomsmen?”

“Smoke break?” Wouldn’t be the first time, as much as you scrolled Jungkook for smoking. You scolded Taehyung even harder.

“Actually I was talking to a cute little thing, but I don’t think she’s interested.” Jungkook appeared behind the both of you, then he points to Namjoon’s great grandmother. You had met her earlier, she was very sweet. 

“I think she can do better.”  You take a long sip of your drink. 

Jungkook gives that same annoyed look he’s given you a thousand times before. Something about the air around him now felt different than earlier. His cool and cooperative demeanor seemed to have dropped. You knew when Jungkook was starting to get things riled up. He probably had a couple of drinks and now he was going to come over and cause a stink. Get you to embarrass yourself somehow. 

“Don’t worry I looked for a date for you as well. I did see a snake outside earlier, asked him if he could be your date for the weekend.” Jungkook met your action in turn, also taking a long sip of whatever venom he had in his cup. 

“Okay.” You keep it short and don’t look at him. You were right, you’re not sure what happened but now he was looking for a fight. 

Ash could feel the tension rising, she wanted to escape before this bomb went off. 

“Hmm… so you were serious about being nice. Shocking.” Jungkook places himself right next to you. 

“I’m going to regret this. Might I ask why you think that’s shocking? I have been doing just fine at it all day.” You sigh, but continue looking around the room, anywhere but at Jungkook. 

“Just surprised is all. I had to do it too.” 

“Yeah, barely but I appreciate it.” 

“Looks like you can keep a promise after all.”

Keeping your voice level. “Any reason, you’re trying to make it difficult now? I don’t get you.”

Jungkook smirked, leaning in closer. “Because you make it so easy.”

You took a deep breath, don’t let him get to you. “I’m not doing this with you tonight. Not here.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like anyone cares. They’re all too busy fawning over the happy couple.” he said, waving a hand dismissively towards Namjoon and Melanie.

“Still doesn’t mean we should pull attention to ourselves at all.” You tap your glass.

You both stay silent for a second. Ash was nervous standing so close to the both of you. It’s like you were two stars about to collide into each other. 

“Let’s just stay away from each other again, okay?”

“To be honest, I’d rather not be anywhere near you,” Jungkook replied, taking another sip of his drink.

“Great. We agree on something.” you said, turning away from him.

Ash grabbed the opportunity to interject. “So, uh, have you guys tried the appetizers? They’re really good.”

“Yeah, the appetizers are great,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Maybe you should eat some more,” Jungkook said, a wicked glint in his eye. “Might help with that attitude of yours.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back.

“I’m done.” You turned on your heel and started to walk away, but Jungkook followed.

You had to get away, you were going to be nice but you weren’t going to take his abuse. The two of you had been doing really good, did you step on something of his and now he wants to fight again? Getting to another part of the room was the smart and sensible choice right now. To your surprise he stays in toe with you. 

“Oh running away? There’s the y/n I recognize.” He came close to your ear, and you push him away from you lightly. 

“I don’t need this right now Jungkook.” You were making your way to Melanie and Namjoon. Their presence would maybe force him to be on his best behavior. 

They were with Melanie’s parents though, you didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to retreat to another place of solitude. Saying polite hellos to people you recognized and family you had met earlier in the day. Jungkook doing the same as he continued to follow you. 

“Jungkook. You promised.” You turn to him suddenly and it makes him almost fall over, reminding him of something you can only imagine Namjoon made him promise. “Please go somewhere. Take your snake venom and use it on someone else.”

“I’d rather not.” He shrugged and placed his cup on a nearby table. Jungkook couldn’t help himself, he wanted to fight with you.

“Why?”

Jungkook thinks for a moment,“Because I’m waiting for the moment that your façade finally drops. Then everyone will see what you are truly like.” He words dripped with disdain, and he was serious. 

His goal was to see you fall. 

“My facade? Really? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Must be taxing for you.”  You look directly into his eyes now. 

“What?” He tilted his head. 

“Being around a couple who is successful, must be taxing, knowing you will never have anyone like they have each other.” Because how could anyone ever want to be around someone like this. 

“At least I never let the same person make a fool of me over and over while I let everyone watch the wreckage.”

He spoke about David, your college ex. Again, David cheated on you and made everyone believe that you were the crazy one. You forgave David one too many times before the end.

This was enough though and ancient history. Your anger washed through you, this was not the time nor the place. You didn’t care. He was throwing this in your face again. After so much time. How childish could he be? He would stoop so low again? What was wrong with him? 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You scoff. 

“What? Can dish it but can’t take it?” He clicked his glass against yours.  

“Come here.” You basically bark at Jungkook and grab the sleeve of his jacket. You rush him out of the reception into the hall. Making it so you can keep whatever fight this could possibly turn into just between the both of you.

“Ow!” He rips his arm away, almost looking disgusted that you even touched him. 

“You know I have gone over this in my mind again and again…” you pace from left to right shaking your head, disbelief running through you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Because I thought maybe that just for one day you could put whatever problem you have with me aside. For one day we could be civil and pretend to be friendly. So Melanie and Namjoon could have a special day. I guess I was fucking wrong about you again. You simply can’t help but pick a fight.” You were spitting your words with pure disdain towards him, he had really set you off this evening. 

“Hold on, I’m perfectly capable of being on my best behavior.” His words were just as angry as yours, he had his arms crossed over his chest. Defenses up, he was ready to break you down.

“You’re fucking joking right? It’s just like you to shift blame away from yourself again. You said all of that intentionally to get some rise out of me. To get me to embarrass myself. What were you just too bored? Had to pull focus onto yourself because you couldn’t stand it being on someone else? ” You run both of your hands through your hair angrily, eyes darting all around to look at anything but him. 

He scoffed at you. 

“Trust me, I spare you zero thoughts enough to do that on purpose and I was not pulling focus to myself.”

“Please you and I both know this was damn well on purpose and now we are causing a scene.”

“Oh shut up” he dragged out his words in annoyance, “You really think I wanted this to happen? To be in a screaming match with you instead of having a good time?”

“Jungkook this is all we do! Are you fucking joking? That’s why we are never in the same room together because you’re a self-centered asshole! And I can’t stand you! No one can!” Your blood felt like it was on fire. What you were saying may not have been all true but you didn’t care. You wanted to stick him where it could hurt. Your face was completely red and your breath heavy in your chest. 

“Yeah I’m the asshole. Fucking grow up, get off your high horse, and realize you are just as bad as me!”

You were moments away from actually grabbing him and throwing him to the ground. Maybe this would be the time you actually hit Jungkook. 

Namjoon stepped between the two of you right at that second. Surprising the both of you and it was like you split like magnets. 

“Hey!” He looked between the two of you, he was fuming, “What the hell is wrong with you two? Everyone can hear the both of you. You seriously couldn’t hold it together for me or for a few fucking days?” Jungkook tries to say something in protest but Namjoon shuts him up, “Not another word. Yelling about this shit right outside the rehearsal? Get your fucking acts together and take this bullshit outside. If you can’t figure this out, you both won’t be welcome tomorrow.”

“Namjoon I’m—.” You start and he gives you an almost similar look he gave Jungkook and you stop. 

He never really spoke like that ever. He looked more worried than anything but he was serious about us not being able to come back. You heard him whisper ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath after leaving the both of you in the hallway. How embarrassing though, getting kick out of your own friend’s celebration. Jungkook felt the same, but neither of you looked at each other or said anything for a moment. 

“Just awesome.” He said as he walked outside and you followed. Figured he made the choice for both of you to finish this outside. 

You fully expect a punch will be thrown by the end of this. Your rage had certainly been drained by Namjoon breaking you and Jungkook apart though. 

You both stood in silence outside in the cold. It was dark out now. It was still damp on the ground from a shower you hadn’t even known happened. The smell filled you with a sigh. Your skin was hugged by the cold and it made you shiver a little. Jungkook was shuffling through his pockets, looking for something. He suddenly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Do you really have to do that right now?” You huff and rub your arms. 

“Do you really have to bug me right now?” His voice dripping with disdain, and he places a cigarette between his lips. Lights the end of it.

“We weren’t exactly done talking in there.” 

“With Namjoon’s entrance, seemed like it. Can you leave me alone now?” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

“I don’t fucking know where I thought we would end up coming out here. Embarrassing enough getting kicked out basically .” You rub your hands together to try to warm them up a little bit.

“That makes two of us. I don’t know why the fuck you came out here either.”

You didn’t look at each other. Only acknowledging each other in your peripherals. You feel like looking at his idiotic face you might just get angry. You wanted to at least come to a truce to be able to get back inside and have a good rest of your night. You didn’t know how to fucking talk to this guy. Even after all this time, he still just bites back at you as much as you bite at him. 

He sighs heavily and a rather large puff of smoke makes its way into your vision as the wind moves it in your direction. Jungkookw was trying to blow it in another direction, he didn't like you but wouldn’t blow smoke at you. Guess nature had a different plan.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you, you know smoking is horrible for you.” 

“Oh suddenly you give a shit about what kills me and what won’t?”

“Jesus what is your problem with me? I just said you shouldn’t smoke and you told me to fuck off. You clearly have some big fucking problem with me that you need to fight all the time.” You stand square facing him now and he does the same. Matching up to your energy as best as he can. 

He holds his cigarette between his fingers and blows out another puff of smoke into the air above the both of you. 

“I think you should take a hard look at yourself first, what is your problem with me? Seems I piss you off more often then you piss me off.”

“My explanation would make no difference. Oh wait you refuse to listen anyone other than yourself, my bad.” You roll your eyes, it probably wouldn’t.

“No I seem to have done something else to you, but from where I stand. I didn’t do anything.”

“You're just a dick okay? Your personality sucks and you seem to have little care about the people around you and you don’t give second chances because one mistake is the end for you. Having zero regard about the things you can say or use against them.” You shifted your weight back and forth. 

“Last time I checked what I said or did had little meaning to you.” 

“Doesn’t mean that the things you say or do aren’t hurtful.” You march up to him and poke him in the chest and push back a little, he takes a small step back. “Doesn’t make getting called an asshole, a bitch, annoying, or anything else hurt less. Your words do mean nothing. Less than that even... It can still hurt though.”

You stare into his eyes, the fire behind your eyes must have been bright. His mood seemed to shift in front of you. Jungkook was puzzled but at this point it’s like he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help just pushing that one last button to get you into a fight, you were no better. Neither of you were like this with anyone else you knew. 

By everyone’s else accounts, the both of you were very kind and considerate people. Almost always putting others above yourselves. Except when it came to each other, fighting was all you knew. It was easy, maybe almost comforting for Jungkooks heavy heart. A thousand pound weight on yours. It was slowly going to kill the both of you. 

You realized what you had said and retreated back, holding your arms around yourself.

For one second you looked almost sad. Which Jungkook chocked up to being in his mind quickly.  

“Just forget it.” You turn around and decide to drop the whole thing, go back inside. You were tired and you wanted nothing more than to go back inside and have a good night. Jungkook jogged around in front of you and brought you both to a stop.

Nothing had been solved, Jungkook thought. This would just happen again, god forbid it happen tomorrow.

“No. Namjoon told us to take this outside. We are outside, and you said something real to me for once. So spit it out. Say what you and I both know you actually want to say.” He backed you up with several singular steps. His cigarette hung from his lips. The smell of it filling your nostrils. You eventually felt the cold wall meet your back.

“You stink.” You basically spit at him. 

He gives you a not so amused smile.

“Really had to throw one more punch my way huh?”

“What can I say. You piss me off.” 

He was much closer in proximity to you than you had realized. This was probably the closest you had ever stood to him, willingly. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Your eyes are flickering in between the cigarette in his mouth and back to a blank stare into his eyes. 

“Yeah, well you get on my last nerves.” 

“Anyways none of it matters anyways, I won’t forgive you just like you won’t forgive me.”

The distance stayed the same between the both of you. It became more and more comfortable the longer he kept the proximity. He’s wanting a specific answer from you, but he probably figures with how annoying you are you will not be giving it up. 

“Fine.”  

He blows another puff of smoke away from you. 

It was silent as some water droplets that came off the building's roof hit the ground, echoing around the both of you. 

You were going to smell like cigarettes too after this exchange. Gross. 

You both sat in silence for a while, you glance over to him every so often. Mostly examining his arm, you remember a time when he had no tattoos but now his arm had a complete sleeve. He had several tattoos that spanned down his arm. Some of them were exposed with his sleeves being rolled up. They were rather beautiful, for being on someone so vile. 

“You’re too uptight you know that?” he interrupts your thoughts. 

“Better than a loose cannon.” 

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sounds like you need to relax.”

“I was relaxed before your existence came into my life,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Jungkook chuckles, not missing a beat. “Oh, come on. If I’m the one ruining your peace, then maybe the problem isn’t me.”

“Yeah?” you retorted, crossing your arms. “What’s your brilliant diagnosis, then?”

He leaned in just a bit, his smirk sharp. “Seems to me someone who was being satisfied correctly wouldn’t be so goddamn annoying.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Then you must be a virgin.”

And just like that, you were right back where you always ended up with him. The insults, the jabs—it was a fight you’d both played out countless times before. You knew the script by heart: digs at each other’s sex lives, accusations flying, and the inevitable fallback of calling each other assholes. It was exhausting, predictable, and you were painfully aware that neither of you would gain any ground this way.

Same old, same old with Jungkook.

“Trust me, I’m well taken care of.” Jungkook took in a sharp hit from his cigarette.

“I’m sure you are. Easy to stick your dick in anything when you lack human emotions.” You could cut your sarcasm with a brick.

“All talk but it seems to me no one has taken a good dip into you in a while.”

“What am I? Ranch?”

“See I would laugh but I think you know I’m right.”

It hadn’t been that long but it was disappointing the last time you slept with someone. Just a one time thing, your usual routine. You hadn’t really had time to properly date these days but weren’t really look that hard. Just needed some easy flings, and men are disappointing in bed most of the time.

“This is some major fan behavior thinking about my sex life Jungkook.” You tease.

“I’ll become your fan when I’m dead.”

“Oh can’t wait.”

“For my fan favor?”

“For you to drop dead.”

He was quiet. Didn’t make a retort back. Just stood there, staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t his usual glare; it was something else. Almost like he was lost in thought. The silence between you stretched out, the usual banter gone, replaced by an unfamiliar tension that made your skin prickle.

“What if…” he finally said, voice barely audible and laced with uncertainty.

You gave him a confused look, waiting for the punchline or some snide remark, but none came. He stayed quiet, just staring, his eyes drifting from your face to the ground and back up again. The silence was starting to make you itch.

“What if...what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Spit it out, or are you trying to communicate telepathically now?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “Just—hypothetically, okay? Don’t make this weird.”

“Oh, sure,” you snorted. “Because you being weirdly introspective isn’t already weird.”

Jungkook shot you a look, somewhere between exasperation and nerves. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at the ceiling like it might give him the right words. “Just hear me out. You and I...we don’t get along. We clash. Constantly. And it’s...annoying.”

“Wow, Jungkook. Stunning revelation,” you deadpanned, giving him a slow clap. “What’s next? Gonna tell me water is wet?”

“Just shut up for two seconds?” he snapped, but his voice lacked its usual bite. “We’ve tried talking—well, shouting—and we’re still stuck in this...thing.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Nothing gets better, and it’s just the same shit on repeat.”

“So, what? You want to, like, go to therapy together?” you joked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are we about to hug it out? ‘Cause I’m warning you, I do bite.”

Jungkook let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “God, no. I’m not...I don’t know, looking for some emotional breakthrough. I’m just saying—talking isn’t cutting it, right?”

You squinted at him, still not catching on. “If this is your roundabout way of trying to be friends, I’ll save you the trouble. Hard pass.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to get the words out. “Not friends. Not...ugh, okay, screw it.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “What if we try something different? You know, like...a different kind of release.”

Everything about him right now felt so out of place and it made you uncomfortable. He was boyish, reminded you of how he was in college a little bit.

Your brows furrowed as he avoided your gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “What? This guessing game is not working for me.”

He took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know...what if we, like...”

You stared at him, expecting another insult or some nonsense, but he just kept hesitating. His hands fidgeted, and his eyes darted between your face and the ground. It was so out of character that it almost made you laugh. Jungkook felt so out of place, and almost wrong for even thinking of the idea. Reminded him of a stupid theory Taehyung had. 

“Jungkook, seriously, whatever ridiculous thing you’re trying to say—”

He finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and blurted it out, sounding almost relieved to get it off his chest. “What if we just...you know, slept together?”

There was a beat of silence between he two of you. you blinked at him. You weren’t even sure if you had heard him right but you before you could say anything you were laughing. A little too hysterically in his face. Until you actually looked at him, he was serious. He was serious?

“No way you want to—” you started, stifling a laugh, but his serious expression didn’t waver. “On no planet or universe are we having sex, Jungkook. That’s a horrible idea.”

He clicked his tongue, shifting his weight, trying hard to appear nonchalant even as he fidgeted. “Could help relieve some tension between the two of us. We keep fighting, but maybe we just need to, I don’t know...get it out of our systems.”

“You’re actually serious?” you asked, waiting for the punchline that never came.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ with a confidence that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his bravado thinly masking the nerves underneath. “It’s a stupid theory Taehyung has. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides, you know...you realizing I’m right.”

You squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was just screwing with you. “Back up. What theory?”

“Sex fixes everything,” he said, deadpan.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the sheer absurdity of it catching you off guard. “Wow, and you’re taking that guy’s advice here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, visibly regretting even bringing it up.

He sighed, remembering the countless times Taehyung had rambled on about his foolproof ‘solution’ back in his serial playboy days. It was the kind of theory only Taehyung could concoct. Fighting? Bang it out. Unrequited feelings? Bang it out. Stress? Bang it out. Stub your toe on the way to the bathroom? Well, bang it out. The list went on and on, a never-ending stream of inappropriate fixes for any and every problem.

And now here Jungkook was, standing in front of you, actually considering it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you said, still laughing, your sides beginning to hurt. “You’re seriously standing here thinking Taehyung—Mr. ‘I slept with half the city before breakfast’—knows what he’s talking about?”

Jungkook let out an awkward chuckle, half embarrassed, half defensive. “I know, okay? It’s insane. But like...nothing else has worked, right? And it’s not like you’ve got any better ideas.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised, fully enjoying watching him flounder. “So your grand solution to us hating each other is to do exactly what Taehyung would do. What’s next, you gonna get us matching bathrobes and a mini bar?”

“Hey, don’t knock the mini bar,” he retorted, unable to hold back a small smile. “But yeah, pretty much. Look, it’s stupid, but it’s Taehyung logic. He swears by it.”

You shook your head, still incredulous. “He also once swore he could cure a hangover by eating an entire pizza in one bite. The man’s not exactly a genius.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect advice,” Jungkook mumbled, his ears turning slightly red. “I just thought...I don’t know. It’s different from whatever the hell this is.”

“Are you even attracted to me?”

He shrugged, “You don’t physically repulse me. It’s just your personality that’s the worst.”

“Says Satan’s spawn,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your words, more shock than anything.

Jungkook let out a small, awkward laugh. “So, what do you say? For science?”

You shook your head, more bewildered than angry. “Jungkook, this is not a science experiment.”

He stepped forward, doing a small, ridiculous spin like he was modeling for you. “Come on, you gotta admit—I’m at least a solid seven. Maybe eight on a good day.”

“You’re not... ugly.” you mumbled, suddenly finding your shoes incredibly interesting.

Jungkook smirked, but it was softer, less confident than usual. “Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Look at us, making progress.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the weird buzz of adrenaline mixed with tension in the air. This was unfamiliar territory, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh, scream, or maybe—just maybe—consider his ridiculous proposition.

“It’s’ like I said. Talking seems to get us nowhere and doesn’t make us any friendlier.”

He was actually considering this.

“You don’t actually think that could help?”

“It’s up to you. It doesn’t hurt to try. After all we have tried every other way imaginable to get along”

“You just want to get your dick wet.”

“Sue me. I’m human.” 

The ideas swirled around in your head for a while. That shit doesn’t actually work? Sex can be too weird and too emotional for people. It wouldn’t actually relieve tension between you two? He never really seemed like the hook up type, even though you were. He’s serious though, you can tell by his expression that he wants to. 

You stared at him for a second though, letting the thought sink in. What would it be like? To kiss him, to hold him. To feel– okay woah. Your skin was getting hot. The thought was exciting, you had never hate fucked someone. You hadn’t really looked at him in the eyes this whole time but he kept his sight on you to try to determine your answer on your face. Just letting you decide.

“I’m just offering the idea. You can say no.” He places a hand on the wall beside you, “I can see you seriously jumping hoops in your mind right now… I also wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

“I would kill you if you told anyone.” 

A beat of silence.

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[strang3lov3]

Tear You Apart

Roman hatefucks you (2.1k words).

Tags - smut, rough/violent sex, mean!roman, and perhaps dark!roman too if you squint (I’m serious. Don’t underestimate him) lack of proper foreplay (intentional), unprotected piv, spanking, biting, choking, hitting, degradation, bruises, dacryphilia, hatefuck, masturbation, fingering, creampie, come play, fearplay, threats of violence, typical Roman sexism, Roman spits in your mouth, orgasm denial, Roman denies you of some basic physiological needs in maslow’s hierarchy, a singular atom of aftercare, one (1) Depeche Mode reference. Probably forgot some things but if you’re here then you know what you want, and I know what you want, and we both know you’re gonna read anyway.

A/N - received a message from god and i did what had to be done. @cum-a-calla said “k but imagine Roman talking about how much he hates you while being violently railed. swoon” so here’s this. Straight fucking, beginning to end. I love you @cum-a-calla I think you’re just the fucking best 😻🥰 and @beefrobeefcal do your eyes ever hurt from how much I abuse them? Thank you for lending them to me again and again 💜🥩🐛

Roman’s swaying left and right in his swivel chair, nursing a glass of whiskey when you open his bedroom door. “You’re late,” he says, slurring his words ever so slightly. His eyes are bloodshot, hair mussed, tie loosened and his white shirt unbuttoned. Roman takes his silver watch off and sets it down on the end table next to him. 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I know.”

“You texted 10:30,” Roman reminds you. “And it’s midnight.” 

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” 

“Better fuckin’ not. C’mon, chop chop. You know what you’re here for.” 

You do know; the same thing you’re always here for. Roman downs the rest of his drink, then pours another, and this time offers it to you. You decline politely, a quiet and demure no, thank you with a gentle shake of your head as you take off your shirt. Roman shrugs, drinks that one too. He feels lightheaded. 

You shuck off your pants, and Roman takes care to help you with your bra, fingers tracing over the indents it’s left in your skin. “All of it,” he says, smacking your ass, right over that large, rashy bruise he left last time. It was a week ago, maybe. Is that correct? Is that the last time you did this? Roman can never keep track. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just as hungry for Roman’s violence as he is to inflict it upon you. 

You shimmy the cotton underwear down your hips and your legs, now fully bare before Roman. Exposed. Roman sidles up behind you, his veiny hands on your waist. He urges you closer to the mirror and turns you around slowly, admiring the marks he made on you last time. Bite marks, lots of bites, and god, how he loves sinking his teeth into your skin. There’s bruises darkening your skin, though not all are visible. Some you feel instead of see. There’s the odd scratch, maybe the fault of his unclipped nails or perhaps the blunt metal edge of his watch he doesn’t always remember to take off. Roman watches you in the mirror, the eye contact intimidating. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Roman presses his fingertips against a bruise on your hip, causing you to wince. It’s an odd shape, odd location too. “I like this one,” Roman says. “Pretty.” It’s a compliment, almost. Almost. 

It begins here. Roman separates your hands that are held together, nervously fidgeting with yourself. He takes your forearm and twists it behind your back, pushes it up, up, even higher yet. You can see in the mirror how he smiles, his eyes darkening when you start to wince in pain. “You’re hurting me,” you whine. “You’re - ah, my arm–”

“I know it hurts you,” Roman taunts. “I could break it just like this. Fuckin’ snap it. I think about it sometimes.”

His words make you sick. Make you breathe funny, make you feel all icky inside. He fucking loves it, how your breath hitches in your throat, and how he can feel it happen under his palm. And when you’re afraid like that, you squeeze around him harder, walls pulsing, clenching…

Roman forces you down onto the bed, your face buried in his pillows. You lie on your stomach and he parts your thighs with his knee, still holding you in place, now with both of your arms bent into place. Roman holds them in one hand and kneels at your side, and with his free hand he rubs over the swell of your ass. He parts your cheeks, admires your tight asshole and your snatch. He traces those pretty folds of yours and rubs your clit, listening to those quiet gasps you swallow. He wonders when you’ll - and yup, there it is. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding your hips into his palm. Roman smiles at this. The rules, you’re breaking the rules. “I’m not gonna make you come,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you mumble.

“I’m only getting you wet.”

“I know.” 

“Then what do you think you’re doing?”

Silence. Roman removes his fingers from your cunt and spanks you hard - once, twice, three times total. You wail in pain, humming rhythmically in an attempt to soothe yourself of the ache, that awful sting. Roman traces the outline of his puffy handprint on your ass. “You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this little dance. You never learn who calls the shots. Un-fucking-believable,” he huffs. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts - you can forget about getting wet now. Spread your legs.”

Roman situates himself behind you as you spread your legs, though it’s not enough. Roman holds the backs of your knees in his hands and spreads you wider, the cool air a jarring sensation against your hot, pulsing sex. He unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the floor where it lands with a loud thump. He undoes his pants next, the zzzzip noise slow and loud as the metallic teeth separate one by one. Roman pulls his already-hard cock out and before entering you, brings his palm to your mouth. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. Spit.” 

You lift your head and spit into his palm, and he strokes his cock with it before pressing his blunt head against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath, anticipating what’s to come. 

Roman thrusts violently into you, the stretch and the burn causing you to squeal. You scramble for hold on the sheets, the pillows - anything to ground yourself as you take the pain he gives to you. Roman grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks, “C’mon,” he goads. “You can do better than that.”

Roman pulls out of you all the way and plunges right back into you, harder than before. You bite into a comforter to muffle a sob, the first tears squeezing from your eyes. It hurts, it all really fucking hurts, and each time is worse than the last. 

He wriggles his forearm under your tummy and hikes your hips up, Roman on his knees behind you. “Fuck yourself on it,” he says. “Go on and fuck my cock. Show me that you’re good at one thing, one simple thing.” 

Following his command, you rock yourself forward, then back again. It’s slow, as that’s all you can stomach right now. The pain hasn’t yet dissipated and each movement, each twitch of Roman’s cock feels like a knife against your insides. The pain is fiery, too intense to focus on anything but. 

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes,” you whimper, till rocking, inch by little inch. “I’m trying.”

Too slow. You’re too fucking slow, and too fucking tedious. Roman rolls his eyes, “You’re fucking pathetic,” he spits, words like poison. He takes your hips in his hands and pulls you hard against his cock, his hips slamming against your ass as he sets a brutal pace. “I have to do everything for you. What can you do, huh? Tell me, say ‘nothing, Roman’.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice thick with your tears. “Nothing, Roman.”

“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it, you goddamn useless fucking cunt.” Roman’s nails are digging, cutting into your skin as he fucks you like an animal. “You’re good for nothing but getting fucked. Fucking whore, you’re fucking nothing without me. Nothing.”

You nod, sobbing as he pounds into you. You’re completely powerless, just how he wants you. Roman bares his teeth as he leans over you to wrap his hand around the column of your neck, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks up into you. Roman squeezes your throat, bruising the soft flesh as he bites into your shoulder hard enough so that he draws blood. The coppery taste, the crimson dotting your skin. He licks it away. 

He’s choking you. He’s choking you and you’re wheezing, coughing and sputtering as you try desperately to wriggle your fingers under his palm. You succeed in this, or perhaps Roman lets you have a small win - either way, you free yourself from him and crawl forward on the bed, reaching for Roman’s glass of water on the nightstand. With shaky hands, you bring the glass to your lips and take little sips, all you can handle and you’re still spilling onto yourself. Roman glares at you as he gets off and rounds the bed, then takes the glass away from you. “Did I say you could have that?”

“I was ch-”

Roman lays a brutal slap against your cheek, less of a smack and more of a beating. His palm is so sharp it makes you cry harder. Fuck, he loves when you do that. 

“Shut the fuck up. You choke if I want you to choke,” he bites. “Don’t pull that shit again. God, I fucking hate you.”

Roman forces you onto your back and spreads your legs again. He enters you just as harshly as he did before, finding that same, punishing, unrelenting pace as he fucks you deep, the head of his cock kissing against your cervix with every one of his thrusts. 

You choke on your sobs, hyperventilating as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel lightheaded, numb everywhere but where pleasure and pain flows between your hips. Breathe, you need to breathe. 

“Stupid fucking slut. I fucking h- oh, fuck. Shit. I fucking hate you. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hate you, you know that?” 

You cry and cry, burying your head into Roman’s pillows to hide your face. Roman pulls the pillows away from you and throws them onto the floor, then grabs your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks as he squeezes your jaw. “Hey. You fucking look at me when I use you. Right here. You focus right here.” 

Your face is puffy with tears, eyes red and tear-stained, lashes all wet. Roman wears a crooked smirk as he digs his fingers harder into your cheeks so that your mouth opens in a little O shape, then spits into your mouth. “Cunt. I fucking hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.” 

Roman pounds into you, hovering over your body to cage you in. You’re gonna feel all of him, and nothing else. He pins your wrists together above your head, his face panting into the skin of your neck as he fucks you so brutally. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

If you focus hard, you can feel his pubic bone against your clit. You follow that sensation, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing that sweet friction. You could come. You could. 

“Nuh-uh. Nice fucking try,” Roman half-laughs. “You’re not subtle.” 

Standing before you, Roman grabs you by the ankles and tugs you closer to himself. He puts your legs on his shoulders and ruts into you relentlessly, now chasing his orgasm. He could’ve gone longer than this, but he’s not gonna let you come on his cock. 

Roman feels that fiery pleasure build quickly in his belly, balls tightening, indicating that release is just moments away. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Roman moans gutturally, hanging his head back as he milks himself entirely, spurting rope after rope of his hot come.

You feel cheated. You feel used. You’re a crying mess when Roman pulls out of you, his spend spilling onto his bed. “R-Roman,” you whimper, violent sobs wracking through your body. Roman gathers his spend with his fingers and paints it over your cunt, lips all swollen and sore with the ferocity of his fucking. “I need you, Roman.”

Roman leans over you, “Go fuck yourself,” he whispers in your ear. “I mean it. Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

You’re completely exhausted. Fucked out. But still, you reach for your center and gather Roman’s come on your fingertips and circle your clit, willing your release along. Writhing on the bed, chasing a pleasure only Roman can give to you. And your poor pussy is so sore, beaten and bruised by Roman. He watches you intently and with dark, loveless eyes, that vein bulging in the center of his forehead. He covers your mouth with his hand and brings the other to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside, gentler than before. He curls those fingers repeatedly as you rub circles around your clit and oh, there it is. You’re pulsing around his fingers, muffled moans signaling your orgasm. Roman works you through it and far past its end, only stopping when you’re a twitching shuddering wreck, a bug flailing on its back. Pathetic.

Roman pulls his fingers from you and shoves them past your lips, “Suck,” he murmurs, then presses his forehead against yours. You lick his fingers, tasting your own release mixed with Roman’s. “God, you’re so fucked up,” he murmurs in a saccharine tone, and the sympathy in his voice sounds almost genuine. “So fucked up. Why do you let me do this to you, huh?”

-

Roman tags ❤️

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills

@highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @/always-andromeda

[withonly-sweetheart]

well. @bunnivievve this one goes out to you, cheers to glasses leon art that inspired this.... + @uhlillie, i am not immune to rookie dog leon fever you've spread around.. coughs. nsfw mention ahead <3

<><><><>

those glasses. you've watched him since he got here, the way they never quite stay on his nose, always tilting downwards in some way, with the eager bob of his head on his second day when he gets assigned a t.o.

you. it takes him a second to scan the seated officers, searching for you, squinting through thin glass frames at your nametags, before finally spotting yours.

he drags his eyes back up, catching your eyes, immediately looking away at your irritated glance. the last thing you need is a little nerd going around telling you what to do, all the codes you're breaking.

so you go with your intimidation factor. although he has a few inches on you, you do your best to initially instill a sense of dominance, a sense of fear so that he respects you.

and it works! god bless, he doesn't question anything you say after that, and although you notice the dips between his brows when you know you're doing something questioning the law, he bats an eye and looks the other way. an obedient dog, that's what the other boots call him.

you brush it off as jokes between the rookies, so you completely miss what should be an imaginary tail wagging at your scarce words of praise, rare to his ears yet still musical.

you've got him wrapped around your finger, yet you don't even realize it. he's down bad, and the further he gets with you, the lack of improvement, he realizes that he doesn't want your praise.

embarrassingly enough, he likes what you say to him, the way your fingers curl around his shirt collar when you threaten him in low whispers, breath fanning the shell of his ear.

he doesn't tell anybody about it, of course not. that would be blasphemous, the fact he's attracted to you itself would be frowned upon, to think that he likes what you say? horrible. you'd find him disgusting, and not seeing you would be unbearable.

so he does the next best thing; drinks his worries away. he comes to terms with the fact that no matter what you do, you'll always be the hottest in the station.

leon tries his best to keep his eyes respectful the next day, keep the relationship purely business, you're just coworkers. not even partners in the sense, you command him.

which is why he can't explain the flutter of gratitude he feels when he's about to turn the corner and catches a snippet of your conversation with the sergeant.

"i just think that you would do well with a few days off," he attempts, trying to reason, something leon gave up well in the few hours he got to know you. "you're tense all of a sudden, and i'm inclined to think it's because of that rookie."

"my wellbeing has nothing to do with my boot." hearing you say that sends unexplainable sparks jolting through him.

"until you can figure out what's wrong with you, i'll have to assign him to another unit. hopefully it's temporary."

he hears you let out a huff of compliance; you both know that arguing with your superiors gets you nowhere. but leon's sigh is dreamy, he slumps down the wall a little, letting himself relax. the files clutched in his arms only straighten when you turn the corner and run straight into him.

"get to work, boot," you bark, back to your old self, showing no hints of the compassion you had displayed in the office. you glare up at him and shove him out of the way, and a paper flutters from his arms.

when he gets back up after picking it, you're gone.

the next day, you're in for a shock. not a big one, never that. but it's still a surprise to see leon without the glasses you so easily identified him with. when leon came to mind, you couldn't imagine him without them resting on his face.

a pleasant smile greets you when you lean on one arm, slamming your palm onto his desk, and he keeps his face irritatingly neutral.

"oh, those old things?" he shrugs nonchalantly, like it wasn't a key feature of his that was now missing, throwing you for a loophole. "thought i'd get rid of them while i could, y'know?"

"no, i don't," you hiss. "don't you need them to see?"

"used to need them, ma'am," he says in that clipped tone of his. "now there's no need."

oh, you'll show him a need. you've made that decision long past when you're furiously knocking on his door, trying to file all your thoughts into orderly lines, wondering what you'll say in the off chance he'll actually answer-

"ma'am?" his unclear voice breaks you out of your trance. you cast him a questioning, harsh look, wiping your gaze over his wobbly lean to the right, onto the doorframe.

"officer kennedy, have you been drinking?" your hands fly to their marked positions on your hip, resting your thumbs on your belt.

"what if i have?" he asks, voice timid.

"that's an offense of our state's penal code-"

"and how many times have you offended that code, ma'am?" he manages to stay respectful and criticizing at the same time, an ability you've envied whenever he tells off one of the other officers.

"listen here, boot. what i do is none of your concern."

"it is when i'm yours."

there's a heavy silence hanging between you two as his eyelids droop, obviously he doesn't realize the power of what he's said.

"when you're... mine?"

"i heard you," he slurs, startling you with a boyish giggle that precludes hiccups that punctuate his speech. "with the- hic!- watch commander, what you said about me- hic!- i'm yours, 'm right."

you push him inside, if only under the guise of putting distance between you both, when you surprise yourself with wanting the exact opposite.

"when i get my hands on you..." you say, meaning to sound intimidating.

his eyes are glazed, hazy when he looks down at you, stepping just a little bit closer, and your hand flicks the door closed easily, challenging him up the upward tilt of your eyes.

"why don't you try me, ma'am?"

---

his hair is a mess from how much you've messed it up, unsatisfied with yourself yet satisfied with how every position, every spike of his straw colored hair, manages to frame his face perfectly.

his mouth hangs open, breath coming in short, wispy pants, head thrown back with every roll of your hips, even though neither of you have abandoned even a singular article of clothing.

his lips are red and swollen, the color of cherries and glossy with your shared saliva, glistening in rivers down his chin with every lurch of his body, every arch of his back.

you catch his glasses sliding from his nose, teetering off the sharp edge, so you press a quick kiss back to his lips and center them, admiring how cute he looks quivering underneath you, so vulnerable except for his eyes.

"you like that, hm?"

"y-yes, ma'am."

god, that gets you every time. now you'll never be able to escape this image of him whenever he calls you that at work.

those eyes that look up at you, pleading, whining, begging underneath you, and you realize that you've liked having him as a rookie, perhaps for this selfish reason, one of many to come.

you don't know if he's only letting you do this to him because he's drunk, under an influence that might lead him to forget this. but you are sure if that's the case, you'll have no problem reminding him where his loyalties lie.

"you think this is an offense of the penal code?" you ask teasingly when you're done, running your fingers along his bare chest while he skims a few documents.

the corner of his mouth turns upward and he turns to face you, kissing your temple before humming his assent.

"i'll be sure to check that for you tomorrow, ma'am."

series masterlist

[reiderwriter]

🌞 Just Hanging Out 🌞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

Warnings: reader is a tease, shy Spencer, sexual arousal (M and F) no physical smut (god I wish we still used the citrus system).

A/N: Here's my second entry to @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge! Thanks to everyone who helped my pick the plot for this one :) I was also intending for this to be a reply to one of my requests for more BAU reader, but unfortunately tumblr deleted that request so 🤡 I'm tagging the account below anyways, and I have three more BAU reader fics coming in the next two weeks-ish, including my new series That's What You Get, so I hope you like this fic and be sure to look out for the others! Enjoy~

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

It was mid-August, and thankfully, the serial killers of America had given up crime for one week of the year to allow you to enjoy some much needed vacation time. The entire team had been put on annual leave, and you were determined to enjoy it to the absolute capacity of your ability.

Despite being together year-round, you actually enjoyed the company of your coworkers, so when Rossi announced he was planning a summer barbeque at his place to kick off your vacation time, you were ecstatic. If Rossi’s barbecuing skills were anything like his pasta making skills, you were expecting to eat yourself into a food coma and not wake up for the next seven days.

“Not a single one of you will touch this grill, stand within a 1 foot radius of this grill or even dare to look at this grill, so help me God, are we understood?” Rossi announced as soon as you arrived, the last of the BAU team to gather in his self-proclaimed mansion. The gardens were beautiful, and the kids were already running riot on the slip and slide that he had set up for them, screaming and giggling in delight.

“Trust me, you’re not getting me near that thing today, Rossi,” you laugh as you pour yourself a glass of wine from the refreshments table. “Last time I was anywhere near a grill I almost died.”

“I don’t remember encountering any unsubs who used grills as their weapon of choice,” JJ laughed at you as she held out her own glass and you gladly filled it for her.

“That’s because it wasn’t on a case, it was a family barbeque when I was 17 and my grandfather thought I should learn some ‘practical skills,’” you shot a grin at her as she rolled her eyes at you and walked away.

You grabbed your glass and looked for somewhere to perch yourself while you took in the sun. Morgan and Prentiss had already grabbed the two sun-loungers on the patio and were both sitting shirtless (with a bikini top on in Prentiss’s case) taking in as much sun as they could. Garcia was similarly sprawled on the deck sofa, and JJ joined her their after grabbing her refreshment, Will stood by the edge of the deck watching over the kids. Hotch had the amazing foresight to bring his own camping chair, and was set up similarly with one eye on Jack and the other on a book in his hand.

And just where you were expecting him, Spencer Reid was stood awkwardly at the edge of the house, in the only spot of shade he could find, leaning slightly against the door, and squinting into the sun.

“Rossi, you got any other chairs I can grab for me and Reid?” you called out to your host.

“There should be some over by the shed, they might need a bit of a dusting down though.”

“Come on pretty boy, you can’t just be standing all day, you’re going to make me feel tired just watching you,” you laughed up at him and caught the flush of his cheeks as he finally caught that you meant him to follow you.

“I’m really fine here over in the shade, I don’t do too great in the sun, anyways. More of an autumnal person, really…”

“I’d feel bad seeing you stand all day, and besides, what if I need a big, strong man to help me carry my chair over?” As he gaped his mouth open and closed looking for a retort, you felt the small flash of victory spread warm your chest. It wasn’t that you liked messing with Reid, it’s that he was an easy target and actually you loved it.

Having joined the team only the year prior, you’d quickly found the genius incredibly endearing, loving to listen to his little monologues about whatever topic had popped into his head that day, often earning groans from your other colleagues as you encouraged him to keep going.

You’d discovered your love of making him squirm a few months into the job, when you had to interrogate a submissive partner of an unsub together. After theorising that the submissive personality had a thing for women who looked like you, especially ones that were pretty dominant and controlling, you’d decided to give him what he wanted. You’d popped the top button, walked into the room and given him your best shot before having to re-strategize.

“What if we send Reid in there with her?” Morgan was the one to suggest, “Have him act a bit touchy, show him something he’s missing out on. We already tried giving him what he wanted, let’s see how he reacts to someone he doesn’t view as a threat getting everything he thinks he’s entitled to.”

It was a good guess, and it worked. You’d walked into the room, and let Reid start asking the questions. He’d gently laid a hand on your thigh, just high enough for the suspect to notice, and you’d done nothing but quietly whisper directly into his ear, watching the entire time to see how the man in front of you would react. He’d cracked in ten minutes and started spewing misogynistic drivel, so angry that he accidentally confessed to the crime and gave away his partner’s location.

It seemed Reid had cracked just a bit too. He’d avoided eye-contact with you for an entire week after that, and whenever he talked to you in that time, it was like his brain short-circuited. You’d bought a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to his knees with a few whispers in his ear, and you loved the rush of power you felt remembering it. The memory of his strong hand on your thigh did nothing to quell your growing attraction towards the man.

“If you wanted someone big and strong, you should’ve asked Morgan,” Reid snapped you out of your thoughts as he diligently followed you in the direction Rossi had pointed. It was a pretty secluded spot in the garden, a little bit away from the action and you were glad to be out of earshot so you could begin your teasing of the Good Doctor.

“I’m sure you’re big and strong in certain places, Spencer,” you smiled at him, and began looking at the chairs.

You spotted it in the corner, then, the perfect tool for your torment. It seemed relatively new, barely used but still pretty sturdy, and you knew this was it.

“Hey, Rossi, what about this hammock in the corner, can I set this up, too?” you shouted back over to the group and grinned up at Reid.

“Do you have a death wish? Because if so, go ahead and tangle with that devil.” Rossi shouted back, not even looking up from the miriad of sausages and burgers he was working on.

“That sounds like a challenge to me, Doc.” You say and you start pulling it out into the sunlight, Reid steps behind you sighing in defeat. He knew that once you had your mind set on something, you were pretty stubborn about completing it.

“Okay, can you give me a boost?” The bed of the hammock fell to about your chest height, and whilst you knew you were probably able to climb in by yourself, you were wearing a particularly short sundress, and as much as you teased Reid, you didn’t exactly want to give the rest of your team and their families an eyeful.

“You want me to try to lift you into this thing?” Reid squeaked out, a look of confusion passing over his features.

“Yeah, just grab my hips and give me a boost and I’ll swing my legs over and straddle it. Then we can see what’s it's like.” He moved cautiously up behind you, letting his hands graze your waist.

“Reid, you’re going to have to hold me a bit tighter than that if we’re actually going to get anywhere.” You placed your hands over his and pushed his grip down stronger; you could practically hear him gulp from behind you. He pushed you up, and you almost had it, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself up and into it.

After a few attempts, you realised it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Reid’s grip, you turned to face him.

“New plan, you get in first and pull me up.”

“What? I don’t want to go anywhere near that thing, didn’t you hear what Rossi said?”

“Come on Reid, just this once, for me? We have to try at least!” you pouted up at him now with pleading eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t have to resort to batting your eyelashes at him to get him to agree.

“One attempt, and then I’m grabbing a normal chair and leaving, okay?” He negotiated, but you didn’t care and excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug.

“Yay, thank you! I love you, Reid, you know that?” you pulled back slightly to deliver that last line, your arms still around his neck, watching the redness spread upto his cheeks.

He mumbled a quick whatever and pulled away to begin his attempts.

Perhaps it was his few extra inches of height or spindly frame, but Reid managed to climb up quite easily, not even rocking the hammock that much in his ascent.

He sat up pretty steadily, and you lifted your arms to him, and that’s when it all started going wrong. You’re combined weight wasn’t enough to break the hammock, but it was enough to set it off into an unsteady rocking that made your stomach lurch slightly. You swung your leg as best you could over Reid’s, already in the hammock, and as soon as you found some purchase there, he lowered one hand to pull your lower body up as well.

It was just unfortunate that the place his hand landed was directly over your ass, and you let out a sharp gasp as he grabbed it tightly and hauled you up to sit directly over him, chest to chest, practically straddling his entire body in the cramped space of the hammock bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I meant to grab your hip.” He tried to let go of you and push his hands up where you could see them, but the sudden movement made the hammock lurch dangerously so you snapped your hand over his and forced them back to their previous position.

“No sudden movements, Spencer, I don’t particularly want to be the butt of all jokes for the next year if we fall out of this thing.” You panicked slightly and squirmed a little in your position, trying to explore your range of movement.

“How are we going to get out of this if we can’t move?” he shot back at you, a look of mild discomfort on his face, and an I-told-you-so begging to escape his lips.

“If you just give me a minute to explore our options, maybe I would be able to figure that out.”

“If you keep squirming like that we’re going to have more problems than just how to get down,” he huffed under his breath, but he was so close that it was impossible for you to miss it.

It was your turn to blush now, as you caught his insinuation. With his hand firmly on your ass, and your legs either side of his, you could feel the entire length of his body below you. Each squirm you made the dampness between your legs pool a little bit more and then you in-turn squirmed even more in a vicious cycle.

After a few minutes, there was no denying that the thing prodding your core was Spencer’s sizable… appendage.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, it’s just a natural reaction,” he groaned out from below you when he realised you could feel it too, and you’d never heard anything so beautiful as the moans he was accidentally vocalising.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry for being so stubborn about this. Let me see if I can figure something else out,” you cautiously slid your hands up his chest, and he screwed his eyes shut. Pushing against his shoulders, you slowly pulled yourself up to a seated position, doing your best to not rock the hammock too much. The new position did nothing to dampen the friction the two of you were feeling, and you knew that you were a few seconds away from a point of no return. Your hips bucked slightly against him against your will, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed that was totally not to the benefit of you getting out of the hammock.

You looked down to the ground so you could see how far the descent would be, and if you’d have to call for backup anytime soon. Luckily you thought you’d be able to make it if you just swung your legs over the side and got out as quickly as possible, but fate had other plans.

“Spencer, Y/N what are you two doing over here?” came Emily’s voice from behind you. Spencer’s eyes shot open and he pulled his head up slightly to look at her. However, his movement had rocked the hammock a little bit harder than before, so he had to grab your hip to steady the two of you, pushing you further down into him. You did your best to stifle the moan, biting down hard on your tongue as you did so.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” he managed to get out in reply, his voice notably higher than it usually was.

“You sure you guys don’t need any help? That doesn’t look like the safest of chairs.” Emily’s questioning stare never lifted and you knew that if she caught wind of what was actually going on, you wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for an entire year. You couldn’t accept the help.

“Yeah, we were just going to climb down in a second, we’re just checking to see how… sturdy it is right now.”

“Sturdy. Right. Well, Rossi said the food would be ready to start serving in a few minutes and asked me to call you guys over.”

“We’ll be right there, thanks Emily.” You smiled at her and she made to walk away, a suspicious look still on her face.

“What do you mean we’ll be right there, I can’t go over there like this!” Spencer whisper yelled into your ears.

“What else was I supposed to say to get her to go away,” you whisper yelled back. You ran a free hand through your hair, and shifted again, your legs beginning to cramp up a little in the awkward position.

“Okay you get down, I’ll make a break for the bathroom, say all this moving around made me need to pee or something, and then we meet up again on the patio and pretend this never happened?” he said and you nodded quickly.

You began to lift your body weight up and remove your legs from the tangle you were stuck in, and that’s when the hammock reared it’s ugly head for the final time. As you lifted your leg slowly, you accidedntally got your foot stuck in the side of the fabric, and pinned there but still moving, the hammock toppled and spat both of you out unceremoniously.

Reid landed ontop of you with a hard thud. You let out a sweet curse, just as Reid pushed his body weight onto his hands, taking some of the pressure off of you after the fall. You stared up into his eyes as you realised you’d found yourself in yet another compromising situation and you deepeded to a scarlet red as you realised your sundress had blown up completely in your descent, and he was now neatly nestled in between your legs, with your damp underwear on display for him.

Looking down at you, he took a beat too long to react, and you squirmed under his gaze, feeling appropriately trapped, before he sprung up and offered you a hand up.

You took his hand and rearranged your dress, thankful that the smell of the food had distracted everyone from your embarrassing fall.

“Okay, we’re out.” You were flustered and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yep, that was certainly one way to do it,” Reid replied, as you avoided his gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he made to do so similarly, trying his best to rearrange himself so the bulge in his pants wasn’t so noticeable.

“You should get to the bathroom.”

“You should get to the food.” He retorted and you finally made to move, but stopped yourself turning around quickly to face the man again.

“Before I go,” you said and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his mouth, feeling as giddy as a teenager braving her first kiss. You turned away just as fast and made your way back to the party, leaving a flustered and spluttering Reid behind as you made a beeline for the food.

“So, what’d you think of the hammock?” Rossi asked you as you began loading your plate up. You put on your best poker face and begged noone had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“You were right. That thing is dangerous,” was your only response, and you retreated into the corner to finish your food. You sat there waiting eagerly for Reid to return, not just so you could be in his presence again and see how he was reacting to your kiss, but also so you could get the image of him dealing with his situation out of your mind.

It seemed that being a tease and working him up hadn’t quite ended so well for you that day.

You blamed the hammock.

---------------------------------------------------

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[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Imagine: Your Sam and Dean’s sister and you get drunk for the first time behind their back.

Warnings: Underage drinking

Pairings: Sam and Dean x Sister!Reader

It was late and your brothers were out of the bunker trying to get a lead on the case. You stayed back, feeling really off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what was wrong because you were pretty sure everything was wrong. You were overwhelmed and feeling every single negative emotion at once. You started to think about everyone you’ve ever lost and started to grieve those lost connections. This is always how it went for you. You’d feel one singular sad emotion and then all of them would come crashing down on top of you. You had to get your mind off of it.

You glanced at the table and saw the whiskey your brothers would occasionally throw back. You had never drank before, but it was like something was pulling you in the direction of it. Sure you were underage and your brothers would be upset, but the pros were seeming to out way the cons as you opened the bottle.

You grabbed a glass and tilted the whiskey down as you watched the liquor flow out. You poured until nothing came out of it anymore. “Oops,” you mumbled now looking at the empty whiskey bottle. You had poured all of the remaining liquor into your class, but you didn’t care. You needed to get rid of these emotions and this was the only way to do it. You brought the glass up to your lips and took a swig. You gagged as it burned your mouth and stung your throat as you swallowed it. You looked back at the drink with disgust before putting it back to your lips and chugging it. You slammed the glass down onto the table and looked around. You decided to turn on some music and by the time you heard Kenny Rogers glorious voice you were hammered.

You were dancing around the room with the remote in your hand as you sang in a deep voice trying to match his pitch. As your brothers walked through the door you spun around to the face them, music still blasting through the bunker. Your eyes lit up and you pointed both fingers up at them continuing to sing,

“You’ve gotta know when to hold em,

Know when to fold em.”

You belted in a deep voice still pointing at them. Sam stood laughing at you and Dean joined in on singing with you for the next part.

“Know when to walk away,

And know when to run.”

You both sang and you went to fake run. As you did, you slipped and landed flat on the floor. You burst out laughing thinking it was the funniest thing ever. As Dean walked towards you, Sam’s eyes landed on the empty glass of whiskey that had no lid on it anymore. He squinted his eyes and looked back at you, “are you drunk?” He asked already knowing the answer. Dean snapped his eyes over to Sam and then snapped them back to you. You were still on the floor laughing and singing along to the song before Dean pulled you up. He held his grip firm on you as you answered, “Uhhh I don’t know I’ve never been drunk before so how am I supposed to know if I’m drunk if I’ve never actually been drunk like what does drunk even feel like and how are you supposed to know if you are if you’ve never actually felt it before?” You asked rambling on. “I can smell it all over her Sam, she’s drunk.” Dean sighed angrily looking over at what you drank. His heart sank. He knew how much liquor was left and he especially knew that you drank too much for your small body. He pulled you over to the empty glass and looked worried. “Did you take this neat?” Dean asked in disbelief, letting you go. “I don’t even know what that means,” you slurred, stumbling at the loss of stability Dean provided for you. “Wow, wow, hey,” Dean said reaching out to steady, “did you did you mix this with anything?” He asked looking concerned. You giggled, “No silly! I just poured a glass n drank it durrrr.” You said giving Dean a bitch face as you pushed away from him. “Well actually I chugged it because it burnedddddd!” You exclaimed matter of factly, making a gross face. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose while Dean was frozen in place. “You chug- you chugged whiskey?!??” Dean shouted. “Yeah but it’s okay because I feel so good now De, I was so sad before, but now I’m okay!” You said stumbling backwards away from Dean. Both of your brothers faces immediately softened. Sam reached out to steady you. “Hey bug, how long ago did you do this?” He asked softly knowing it was more important to take care of you than to yell at you at this point. “Likeeee 10 minutes before I saw a moose and squirrel walk through the front door!” You exclaimed, giggling. “That’s you if you didn’t know.” You said looking between both of your brothers. Sam and Dean glanced at each other feeling a little relived to know you hadn’t been like this long and there was a better chance of getting the contents of the alcohol out before it reached your blood stream. You were faltering the fine line between alcohol poisoning with how much you drank and both of your brothers knew that. “Watch this!” You exclaimed ready to climb on top of the table and jump off. “Uhhhh yeah no,” Sam said stopping you halfway and dragging you back down. You looked at him before stomping, “Mooses never wanna have fun!”You said. He picked you up and slugged you over his shoulder. “Oh we are goin on an adventure wahooooo,” You slurred feeling on top of the world. Sam started walking to the bathroom and Dean followed behind. “Wow De!” You squealed. “‘mm like taller than you.” You said straightening your body out on Sam’s shoulder trying to get even taller. He shook his head, sighing. Sam put you down and you took in your new surroundings. The bathroom! Okay you could find a way to have fun in here too.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sam speaking. “You’ve gotta throw up sweetheart,” he said sympathetically. “What n-no!” You slurred, trying to get your legs that felt like jello to move. Dean quickly stepped in front of you, leaving you to sluggishly ram into his chest. You looked up at him, “you drank way too much it’s either you throw up right now or we take you to the hospital.” He said. You whimpered looking away from him and looking to Sam. “I’m sorry bug, he’s right.” He said softly guiding you to the toilet. You were already feeling nauseous and biting back puking everywhere, but when you kneeled down to the toilet nothing came up. You sat there for a few minutes waiting for the feeling to come back, but you were starting to feel really out of it like you might black out at any second. Dean noticed you slightly swaying and grabbed you. “Alright kid alright,” he said as he rearranged himself to be behind you. You whimpered. “I know, I know hang in there.” He said as he shoved his two fingers down your throat. You immediately started throwing up. “Atta girl” He said patting your back as Sam held your hair away from your face. They both hated seeing you like this and were extremely worried for your physical and mental state. They knew there was a bigger picture to the scene in front of them and they barely scratched the top of the surface. This wasn’t like you to get drunk, hell this wasn’t like you to even drink. Sam transferred your hair to one hand as he reached for a wash cloth. He handed it to Dean and he wiped your mouth. Sam let go of your hair and left the bathroom to get you water. You were exhausted and leaned back into Dean. “You’re alright kiddo,” he sighed, holding her. “Are you disappointed in me, De?”You asked softly. He brushed your hair off your sweating forehead before replying, “why did you do it kiddo?” He asked. “Everyone’s dead,” you whimpered. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw before you bursted out into tears. “Everyone’s dead!” You sobbed. “Shhh shh I know, I know and I’m so sorry kiddo.” Dean said holding your weak body up. “I’m so sorry that you have to experience all of this grief and all of this loss.” He finished, feeling terrible and knowing you’ve already been through too much in your short life.

Sam came back into the bathroom telling Dean to take you to bed. He picked you up and took you to your room where Sam had Advil, water and a pedialyte waiting for you on your nightstand. “Hey bug, I need you to definitely drink the pedialyte before going to bed and there’s also some water if you need it. The Advil is for tomorrow because you’re definitely going to need it in the morning.” He said knowing the horrible hangover that he knew was awaiting you. You nodded and whispered thank you. “We will get you the help you need, love you kid,” Dean said as he gave your leg a pat. “Thank you, love you both.” You said as they walked out leaving a tiny lamp on and the door open so they could easily check on you through out the night.