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ziminy · 3 days ago

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Coming back to you

How to get back with your ex

Tags: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, normal au (because we suffered enough), my bbg Caleb the manipulative king he is (break me in half and all I'll say is thank you), implied stalking (if you squint), creampie, oral (f! receiving), fingering, marking, dirty talk, praising, size difference, little bit of crying, not proofread

Author's note: almost lvl 60 affinity with him, it was hard work and a lot of dedication. Trust me when I say I won't be able to recover financially from this any time soon.

Masterlist

Life was good when you were together, and somehow it even better after breaking up. It's not like your split up was messy, because you two parted ways on mutual accord, deciding that this isn't going to work since both of you were so busy lately. Why dragging the other down when you have your futures set?

In fact, the break up wasn't even supposed to be a break up, you were supposed to take a little break from each other that turned into a break up some time later. You said that you'd still be friends, that it's alright to talk and greet each other if you somehow managed to meet again.

But it was all lies. Both of you knew that. Because you never texted each other after that, and somehow you tried to avoid all the places he might be at. You don't really know why you're doing that, if just.. you feel a little uncomfortable looking back at what you two used to have.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you, how he leaned down to talk to you, or that dumb smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He was caring, attentive, maybe a bit obsessive, perhaps a bit insane too. And maybe that what scared you, kept you away from dating again. Finding another one like him. God, what if you had the misfortune to wake up with another one like him at your door? You'd rather jump out the window than have the luck of getting another Caleb.

But he was good, in his own ways.

Well.. you can't really name any of his good traits at the moment, but he was a great guy. If you put aside his manipulative side, that he doesn't even try to hide to begin with.

You promised yourself to not fall for another guy like him, that empty words mean nothing to you. Threats had no effect, and you don't feel guilty anymore over things that you shouldn't be to begin with.

So, why was he here? You were supposed to meet with the old friend group, to reconnect and talk about the old days and how college used to be. I mean, he was part of the group, but why exactly was he here? And why did nobody told you he was coming?

"It's so good to see you guys!" one of your friends said, instantly jumping from person to person to hug.

"I feel like we're young again." someone else said, making you shake your head and let out a soft laugh. You can't show that you're affected, you're all grown now, you matured. He had no effect on you anymore. Even if it only been a year, you're still a different person that you were a few months ago.

"We aren't old to begin with." you said with a smile on your face. "How haves everyone been?" you sounded so calm, like you forgot how much stress was put on you back then. Everybody looks in much better shape after graduation, perhaps that place was rough for everyone.

"Let's just skip greetings and drink." of course there was that one person. "Caleb, you pay." everybody's eyes were on the tall man.

"You brought your wallet, no? Why should I pay." your eyes made contact for a moment, and you felt your face getting hotter. This night better go quick, because you don't know for how much longer you can handle this.

Everything was how it was back then, the way you sit in groups at the bar. How you found yourself next to the same girls you used to, deciding that you don't want to be loud and take it easy, just like before.

"So, how have life been for you? Haven't heard anything from you after we graduate." one of the girls looked at you, reminding you of how you chose to go no contact with everybody after your breakup.

"You and Caleb broke up? I thought you'd last a life time." is there nothing better to talk about?

"I'm a career woman now." you decided to change the subject, rather chosing to talk about work that your failed relationship.

"Oh?" why everybody looked so surprised was a mystery. But somehow you understood their reactions, you're also surprised you went this path.

"Got any boyfriends?" they still want to get info on your personal life, huh? Well, guess you won't be able to dodge that question any time soon.

"Nothing at the moment. Just focusing on work."

"I guess it's hard to date again. Normal guys must be so bland, not comparing to that piece of meat over there." you looked displeased with your friends choice of words. Yes, your ex might look good, but looks isn't what matters right now. Your well being was your top priority, and you enjoyed the freedom you had way too much.

"I'd be like that too if I had your ex. Imagine recovering from that." you don't even have to imagine.

"Is it even humanly possible to find somebody who's better than him?" their questions doesn't affect you, because you already know that you're the best you'd find. You understand and give yourself more than enough space that it's needed. So the right questions was if he will be able to find someone as good as you, because he won't.

"He's looking in this direction." the girls started giggling, and somehow, this was nostalgic.

Didn't this happened already? Before you started dating, right before you two confessed your feelings. Because somehow, you managed to do that at the same time. It was funny, if you're thinking about it. How you two were so in sync, you had no idea.

"Go talk to him." the girl next to you tried to push you, to make you get up and walk to the dark haired man.

"Don't want to." you kept avoiding any eye contact ever since you got in that bar. If you don't acknowledge him then he doesn't even exist to you.

"But he's looking at you." you grabbed the drink in front of you and gulped everything down your throat, trying to ignore him.

"Are you shy?" the girls started giggling again.

It was annoying. Why can't they understand that it's over? He understands this, so why can't they do it as well?

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"But he seems to want to?" it doesn't matter even if they point it out. It's been a long time already, you both moved on.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell him? Like things you didn't got the chance to while you were together?"

"This is the time to clear any bad blood between the two of you." but that wasn't necessary.

Frustrated, you looked in his direction. Eyebrows furrowed and biting on your lip so you wouldn't let out any curses you wanted to say at the moment. That classical expression, looking like he's good, even if there was no smile on his face, but he kept nodding to what his friends were saying. His eyes were betraying him however, those sleepy eyes, looking at you like you were more interesting, like he had to or else you'd evaporate from there or who knows what worse. It wasn't often when you'd see him like that, so you can't even answer your own questions on why he seemed like that.

No, if you payed attention to his surroundings, his friends might be annoying him. Saying something that he doesn't like, or.. they were talking about you. Just the way your friends were talking about him.

Was he feeling like that because he didn't want to talk to you either? No, you doubt that. It's probably because you refuse to give him any attention.

You turned to face the girls around you, who still seemed to push you to him. Maybe you should in fact go for it?

But, was there really anything that needed to be said? You don't have any regrets, you can't think of anything you want to say. And he's the same, even if he looked like he was holding back from time to time. You doubt he ever did something he's regretting. After all, you matched each other's freaks. You managed to stay together for that long just because you completed the other, understood yourselfs on a level no one else around you could.

Was this why you were pushed to him? Because everyone knew how well you fit each other?

You looked at your friends one more time, sighing as you finally gave up. You're still afraid to approach him, because he was still intimidating in a way you can't explain.

Or you can, because whenever you look at him you feel a chill down your spine. Your head was filled with stuff you said to him in the past, memories coming back to embarrass you, to make you forget what you want to do so you'd fuck up in front of him.

You stopped in front of him, staring at him as he looked at you. He still had that expression on his face, like you're still his softest spot, his weakness that makes him weak in the knees when he's around you. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but then forgetting everything once you looked into his purple eyes.

You can't be like this forever, you had to step up your game. You really had to move on, and maybe that's what you have to talk with him. Because he seems to be stuck in the past too. "You have time?" you noticed the way he almost raised his hand, to grab onto you and drag you closer like he always did. But he held back, because he knew this wasn't the time.

"Yeah." he tried to keep it nonchalantly, but you could see past his poorly executed facade. Should you feel happy with how you still affect him? You feel like you could laugh.

"Wanna talk outside?" you don't even know why you said outside of all places. You wanted to stay inside, where everybody else was. You wanted to have a reason to keep it cool, to not lose yourself in your emotions, because you know you'll fuck up if you're alone with him.

He got up, standing much taller than you as he followed you quietly. Seriously, this was like a deja vu. You still remember how you used to follow him just the way he's doing now. Not questioning a thing, and trusting him a bit too much. But you also had no idea where you're going. All you know is that you want to go outside, take some fresh air, say a few words and then go back to your friends.

For a moment, he got in front of you, opening the door and letting you walk out first. He used to do this all the time, didn't he? You almost forgot about it.

You walked a little further from the bar, resting your back against a building's wall as you looked at the sunset. No one said a thing, and the distance between the two of you was colder than the night's breeze.

"So.." a few words and then go back, that's all. You can go to your friends after this and rest. "How have you been." avoid eye contact, because you don't know when you'll fuck up, look forward, don't let yourself be distracted.

"Busy." his voice still makes something in your head ring, like a little bell that seems to not calm down until he said so. "You?"

"Busy." you couldn't even think of what to say, just biting your lip in frustration.

It was quiet again, like both of you forgot how to communicate.

For a moment, you looked to your left, at where the bar was, and then at him, catching him staring at you with a expression you can't quite explain. Sadness? No, it was a mixture of sad and frustration. And you understood him. He had you this close, next to him, and yet he couldn't do anything.

"You're bigger than I remember." you don't even know why you said that. It's just.. he looks different and you can't exactly say what it was.

"I stopped growing a long time ago." he kept looking at you, at the way you were scanning him for anything that it might have changed. "Maybe you're the one who shrinked." he extended his hand, he doesn't really know why, but it seemed alright in that moment. Like he knew you wouldn't run anymore. "My hands are still the same."

You looked at his palm, at his long fingers and at the way he looks so familiar, yet new. Like you forgot how his body looked for a moment, like you were back in the past before you two started dating. Because you did this back then too, you were in this situation before.

How he was trying to tame you, let you touch him just the way you want, explore and discover more. All just to show you how inoffensive he is, that he's not a threat.

And you bite the bait every single time. Taking his hand in yours, slowly touching it just to see if it was indeed like what you remember.

You should put more effort if you don't want him back in your life. Just look at you, you look like you've missed him so so much. You shouldn't be this sweet or else you might not be able to break up again this time.

He tried his luck, interlocking his fingers with yours, and showing you more of that size difference you haven't seen in a while.

You don't reject him, his actions only made you be more curious. What else was he hiding? You looked up at him, only to see that expression again. You really didn't understand how his eyes can be just this dark, like there was absolutely no life in them, only a purple abyss that seems to drag you in towards him.

"It's getting dark." he said in a low voice, forgetting that he was supposed not to scare you for a moment. "Let me drive you home." he's the same as ever. Getting ahead of himself just because he was able to feel your perfume for once, the same scent that you had since back then. It suited you, and he missed it.

"Alright." he always knew how to calm you, let down your guard so he can get more under your skin. Or perhaps you were doing that voluntarily, because he doubts you'd be like this just for anybody.

The ride back to your place was quiet, only the radio on, playing some mainstream songs over and over again.

The silence was loud, but not uncomfortable. It was better this way because you had nothing to say. And he will not talk until you talk.

But once you got to your house, you somehow didn't wanted to get out the car just yet. It's just.. can't he stay? You don't know why you want him there, and you don't want answers to that.

"You're.." you played with your fingers. "You're not busy, right?" you avoided his eyes, or to look in his direction at all. This was all his doing, wearing that one fragrance that made your head spin, and the shirt that he knew was your favorite. "Want to come inside?" you're doing this on your own accord. Because he wouldn't push you over your limits like this, especially when you just met again after a long time.

You came to him, you talked to him, and you dragged him into your home on your own. He didn't do anything, this was all your doing.

You were brave enough to make the first move, so he might as well reward you for it, no?

You didn't looked surprised when you started kissing the moment the front door closed behind you, you also looked unfazed when he started taking off your clothes, now going towards your bedroom, looking for a bed so he could place you on it.

How could you forget this feeling? Or the way he used to take care of you. Always stopping you from lifting a single finger, not letting you do anything until you start begging him, or worse, do things without even warning him first.

"Tell me if it hurts." he placed a kiss on your cheek before going down, biting softly on your skin and leaving kisses all over the places he touched. He was going to mark all of your body, so people would see a part of him on you even if you're not together.

He stopped when he got to your pussy, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh, before placing his lips over your heat. He was going to scream, he missed this so much that he just couldn't help but let out a lustful moan deep from the bottom of his heart.

How could you left him? Take this away from him, leave him all alone to suffer. If he didn't craved so much for you he would have punished you for it.

"You're so tight." he said as he got two of his fingers inside.

"It's been a while since I did it." he looked up at you from between your legs, placing a kiss on your clit.

"Have you done it with someone else?" he was asking as if he didn't knew everything you did while he was gone. And yet, hes jealous.

"No." you shook your head. "What about you?" are you questioning his loyalty?

"Did you touched yourself?" if this was his way of changing the subject, then it wasn't working. Because it only made you want to ask the same thing, embarras him just the way he did to you.

"Did you?" he should feel embarrassed, ashamed or anything between those two, but no, it was just you who feeling that way.

"Every time I missed you." seriously, can he calm down for a moment. You can't take it. "You didn't do a good job." he said, licking on your clit as his fingers curled up. "But I guess you can't do much with those fingers of yours." you couldn't face him when he was saying such dirty words. "Did you had a hard time stuffing yourself? Don't worry, I'll do it for you from now on." you placed a hand over his face, to cover his eyes so he would stop looking at you.

"Don't look at me." you whimper. "It's embarrassing." you were always so easy to tease.

"Alright." he moved your hand away. "I'm sorry." he was in fact not, but if that's what you want to hear then he'll lie again and again, as long as you're happy.

Your pleasure was more important to him. So he focused on that, paying attention to the places that made you melt, on your soft voice and your touch. You're still so hesitant, like you don't really trust him, like you're still testing the waters.

What more do you want from him? What can he possible give that he haven't gave you already? You have his heart, you have his mind and soul, his well being is all yours, his body and everything he owns. So give him attention, touch him more and tell him that he's doing good because he's about to burst.

For a moment he looked up at you, just to see how you're doing, to check on you and make sure you're alright.

How did he lived for so long without looking at you was a mystery. Why he accepted you leaving him and trying to move on. Who else is going to make you feel like this? You need him, you needed his cock and his touch.

But he's not going to fuck up, since it's been a while since you last did it, he shouldn't push you. So, he placed a last kiss on your clit before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and waiting for more. He didn't even let you cum, how mean of him.

Still, how dumb of him, to come here with nothing on him, not even a single condom. I mean, it wasn't really his fault because he never knew he'll end up like this.

"Take it off, your clothes." you were all naked while he was still fully dressed. He also looked like he wasn't planning on getting undressed any time soon and it was annoying you.

"I don't have any condoms." that was the problem?

"It don't matter." you took him by surprise. "Come here." you knew how rail him up. And you better not regret your decision later.

You looked at him taking off his shirt, his defined muscles jumping right into your face. You were right when you said he looked bigger, he must be working out a lot more lately. He took his pants off after, your eyes on his hard cock as he came back next to you.

"Relax." he said when he got between your legs. "Look at me." it would only be harder for you if you keep overthinking. Yeah, he was big, so what. He's going to give you all the time in the world until you adjust yourself to take him. It's gonna be hard at first, but it's going to be so much easier once he models your insides into the shape of his cock. And that's a promise, believe him.

He slowly pushed the head of his dick inside your wet core, making you move a little from how it was feeling, trying to find a better position. He lowered himself, now his chest pressed against yours, placing kisses all over your face as he kept pushing more of him inside your warm pussy. It's alright, take your time. He's not going anywhere, he'll wait until you're ready for him to move.

"You're doing good." he whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I'm all the way inside, see? It doesn't hurt." it hurts a little, maybe more than just a little. But wasn't it normal when he was stretching you like that? But just as much as it hurts, it also felt good, in a way that left your mouth watering. He was going to be the end of you, really.

"Move." you ordered him, wanting to feel more. Just being stuffed to the brim wasn't enough, you needed much more than that.

He followed your orders, moving his hips slowly, paying attention to your next move.

You were so cute when you're sticking to him like that, holding onto his shoulders and trembling every time he touched that spot deep inside that he wasn't trying to touch to begin with, to not overwhelm yourself.

He's going to give you everything you want, there's no need to rush. If this was how much you can handle then that's how much he's going to give you. So why were you grabbing him like that, and asking for more? "Deeper." but you couldn't take it? You're going to say that he bullied you later, and he doesn't want to take the blame for something you made him do.

"You're sure?" you nodded, looking at him through your eyelashes with a pout on your face. Alright then, if that's what you want. How could he refuse you?

So he got deeper, hitting that spongy spot with long slow strokes that seems to work wanders on you.

He kissed you, again and again, to mark everything that missed his touch. To make sure you feel him, more than just inside.

"Is it good?" he asked as if he doesn't know your body like the back of his hand.

"Mm." you nodded, leaning in to feel more of his warmth.

"Then say my name. Let me know how good I make you feel." how could you forget he was like this. He always had to mark his territory as if you're not already his. But unfortunately for him, you're not in the mood to fulfill his desires. Screaming his name seemed nice, but at the moment all you wanted was to feel him, have him to yourself and let nobody know about your business.

Maybe his greedy side rubbed on you, or maybe it's the other way around. Or not, because at the end of the day you both knew that your unsolved issues can't be fixed that easy, and it can't be passed into the other when both of you are insane.

That's why you're trying to consume each other in other ways.

Kisses that seemed way too loving for someone who just got reunited after a long time. Touches that linger on the other's body even after moving away. Whispers and words that really makes it seems like you two were just a day apart, talking about moving with him, how you don't need anyone else but him. And at the moment you're too drunk on him to even realize that you're nodding, agreeing to every little degrading thing he's saying.

You want him, don't you? You missed him, you were such a mess without him. Right? Why did you permited him to leave when he's made for you. "I love you." that's the most normal thing he said tonight. "I love you, you heard me?" you heard him, but if you're giving him an answer that satisfies him, you'll never make him pay for the pain he caused you.

"You do?" you didn't sounded loving at all, even if your arms were wrapped around his neck, looking at him in the eyes with something only he saw before, your lust and obsession.

"I love you." he'll say it until you finally give up. Placing a kiss right next to your eye, he caged you in his arms, a hand under your ass and lifting up so he could go even deeper than before. Move in even more, since you said you wanted deeper. He'll show you places you didn't even know existed if you're asking for it.

He can't say that he's a brat tamer, because he's not. He likes everything about you, your sweet side, your mean and angry side. He likes it when you punish him, it shows him that you care. And if you believe that he's not doing enough to deserve your love just yet, then he'll do more.

He liked trying after all. And he'd be damed if he said that he doesn't want to show you just how far he can go. Because trust him, you can't handle it.

He's going to eat you, or even better, sacrifice him as you see fit. He wants to be inside you forever, be part of you. Because he feels like he's finally at home only when he's with you, in your arms. And when he's balls deep inside you? He's in heaven.

"Does it hurts?" he licked your tears away, wanting to taste them and claim them as his.

You nodded, feeling his cock twitching before moving in a way that got you throwing your head back. This fucker. He thinks that he can just do this to you and not pay a price? And perhaps sometimes he forgets how you can be so cruel, mean, and play with his feelings in a way only you could.

All he needs is a look from you, fluttering those eyelashes in a pretty way, and a sad expression that he can't resist.

You win, if you wanted him to fumble, then you win. He's all yours, do whatever you want with him because he doesn't have the ability to think anymore. "Cum with me?" what gives you the right to ask such a dumb question when you knew that's the only thing he wants. If you're not, the he's not doing it either. He knows he's asking for too much, but let the man dream.

"I'll fill you up nice and pretty, alright?" he made it sounded like a question, but you both knew he was just letting you know.

"Mm." you nodded, your lips smashing together the next moment. Eating each other out as you were both so so close. Touches becoming more and more desperate, his grip on so tight you won't be surprised if it leaves a bruise. But it's alright, because you feel like that's not quite enough.

More, you both needed more. And some heated sex after fucks knows how long won't be enough to satisfy the empty holes in you. You needed so much more.

Will you even be able to get out the bed tomorrow? Both of you. Because from the way you drag each other back, refusing to give up just yet was more than enough proof to show you won't step back any time soon.

But who knows, maybe you'll finally be happy by the time you both dry your energy out.

#lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb #love and deepspace #lads smut #lads x reader

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sulfies · 1 day ago

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If I Lead (pt 4)

Part 3 here

Ezio wanted a warm bath, a good wine and a soft bed… then maybe a visit from a courtesan once he was rested.

His ass was hurting from the long horseback ride from Venice to Monterriggioni but he was glad to be back home.

Things were not done with the thieves yet and Rosa still had a few more tricks she wanted to teach him, but he had to visit home every now and then to ease Claudia's worries and top up the funds the village needed.

He had found some more riches hidden around while looking for more of those discs that went into the sanctuary. So far he had two counting the one on him.

He rode his horse through the market street nodding and throwing small pleasantries to the people trying to gain his attention. It felt weird to come back sometimes and… be known by many after months of hiding in crowds, not drawing any attention.

But he did miss being able to just walk openly and not worry if the guards were going to come after him.

He looked around the buildings as he passed them by. More people were coming into the town each day and Monterrigioni was finding his footing once more. From what Claudia has yelled about to him, Mario had messed up the finances of the village in a way that should not have been possible.

Thank god one of them took their father's banker genes…

He rolled his shoulders and came closer to the stairs leading to the villa. Mercenaries were doing their regular stuff. Some in the ring that stood in the middle and some were scattered around the clearing on the upper sides.

He would check the barracks tomorrow, he had ordered it to be fixed before he left and he hoped they had actually listened to him or he was going to send their half of this month's wages into the repairs of the church.

He hopped down from his horse giving the reins to the stablehand nearby who was waiting for him.

“Welcome back, Ser Ezio, hope the road treated you well.”

He hummed in response, the road was always the same. He had to deal with some bandits but they were far enough from Monteriggioni. Still, maybe he would talk to the mercenaries later about them expanding their patrol zones. The last thing they needed was for the traders to get discouraged from coming in due to the roads.

He started climbing the stairs, the nearby soldiers said their welcome as he passed by and he waved his hand to them out of courtesy and not much else.

Bed, wine and bed… then he would act like a civilized human to the people.

He walked in through the doors of his home as Claudia was making his way down the stairs.

“It's good to see you back Ezio”

“Claudia” Ezio walked to his sister with open arms.

Claudia made a face as she was drawn into his arms “Can't you wait till you wash this disgusting smell out of you first.” yet put up no real fight to get out of the embrace.

Ezio laughed and let her go. “Shame that you would insult your dear brother, you wound me with your harsh words, Claudia.”

“Mhm, I'll take pity once you smell like a human being again. Go now, the maids have already prepared a bath for you, we will catch up after, with dinner.”

Ezio smiled and climbed the stairs with a spring in his step. He had missed home and its luxuries.

Opening the door to his room he sighed blissfully once his eyes landed on the tub. He couldn't get the armour off him faster.

Once his limbs hit the warm water his muscles melted their aches like butter. Looking at the stool nearby he saw a goblet filled with wine sitting pretty for him and his smile widened.

“It's the simple things really…”

He grabbed his cup and just sat in the tub as he sipped it, savouring every drop.

He spent longer than he usually did, the water was almost lukewarm when he decided to start washing himself fully.

What he wouldn't give for a massage right this very moment…

By the time he got out of the tub, the water was on its way to become cold. He dried himself off and put on his fresh clothes.

Also laid out on his bed for ease; he could kiss the maids.

He put on his bracers and made his way down to his sister’s office, a small chest filled with their new funds by his side.

“Do I have the permission to enter the premises, my lady?” he mocked with two taps on the doorframe, drawing Claudia's attention from the papers on her desk.

“Since I didn't smell you coming in… yes, you do.”

Ezio walked to the desk dropping the chest on it slowly, Claudia's eyes sparkled as she got up to open it up.

Eyeing the coins inside she smiled back at him.

“Good work, brother! Do you know how much is inside?”

Ezio shook his head “No, that's your job” and received a pout for his answer.

“One day your face is going to get stuck like that”

“And I'll blame you for it ’till you die.”

He drew her in for another hug, a longer one and this time Claudia was happy to return it fully.

“How is Madre…” He felt Claudia's shoulders rise in a sigh. “Same as always, but she eats and drinks. Some days I can get her to walk around the garden, which is something, but still not a word has fallen from her lips.”

Ezip nodded and planted a small kiss into his sister's hair as he let her go. “I'll go check up on her after dinner, got some more feathers for her.”

“That would be nice, somedays I find her in front of the box gazing… at least it is a reaction of some kind”

“Indeed.”

---------------------------

The dinner passed with laughter and the latest gossip from both sides, what Ezio did, how the town fared while he was gone…

“The repairs on the barracks are almost complete”

“That's good, I was thinking about getting the church fixed next.”

Claudia smiled. “Venice has changed you huh…” Ezio laughed. “It's not that. Truthfully, I could not care less about it, but since the brothel and the barracks, I fear if I don't actually fix it soon people are going to get annoyed.”

“Glad to see you use your head for once.” Ezio rolled his eyes at the comment. “But yes that would put some people at ease, maybe draw some more people in. The shops have been faring well, but there are still many empty ones.”

“The market looked pretty full to me…”

“That's because everyone knew you were on your way, some of our merchants have been sending their better wares away to bigger cities via traders.”

Ezio raised an eyebrow “You want me to do a little bit of inspection don't you…”

“Yes, go around and show yourself so they have a reason to not hide them”

She took a bite from her meal. “And maybe stay longer than a week this time hm? I know you have much to do back in Venice, but as a young woman I can only throw my weight around so much in this place Ezio”

Ezio scoffed, “You basically run this town better than I would, all the bookings are done by you.”

“I do run it better than you, I'm not saying I don't. I am saying that annoying people like the mercenaries and the merchants respond better to an authority they fear…Which would be, you.”

“So you want me on guard dog duty.”

“Yes, I'm sure Venice can handle a couple of weeks without their local vigilante.”

“Whatever you say, my liege.”

---------------------------

After dinner, Ezio visited his mother's chambers.

As Claudia had said she didn't look any better… but she didn't look any worse, either.

He walked in with soft steps and his shoulders down. She felt like a scared feral animal some days, if he moved quickly she might try to fly in fright.

She was sitting by her bedside chair facing the balcony watching the sky, hands still in a prayer.

“Madre, I'm back” He didn't really wait for a reply, used to the silence by now but it still hurt his heart.

He came close to her side and kneeled by her, placing his hand on top of hers.

“I'm not done yet in Venice… don't know when I will be but thought it was time I came back for a visit. Claudia thinks I should stay for a while.”

Smiling up at her sadly he continued “I think she is tricking me into taking a break”

He stood by her side for a while embracing the silence.

“I brought you some more feathers, Claudia let me know that sometimes you look at the box. Glad to know you enjoy them.”

He leaned down and kissed her hands, his thumb rubbed over the back of them.

“I'll bring even more the next time, hm?”

He got up and walked over to the box. Eyes still stuck on her form he placed the white feathers in it and locked the box after.

“I'll come again tomorrow, Madre…”

He walked out of the room with the same silent steps.

It hurt a lot.

Each time he went to see her he had a small hope that it would be different but he left with grief filling his heart each time.

It was weird, could you still feel grief over someone who was still alive?

If not, he didn't know what else to name the hurt he felt beneath his lungs.

He made his way to his room again, the sun had just started setting down and the weight of the road was pulling him to bed.

He walked into his room and faceplanted onto the sheets, throwing his boots to the side and unlacing his hose halfway. Too lazy to change his clothes, he was clean anyway.

Closing his eyes he welcomed the wave of sleep that washed over him….

---------------------------

When he woke up the next day the sun was up quite high, he overslept. The road had taken out of him more than he had anticipated.

Maybe Claudia was right, some downtime would do him good.

He cleaned himself up with a fresh set of clothes, putting only bracers on from his daily uniform. He would get the maids to wash that today as well, tho he knew his enjoyment of his clean capes would only last half a week.

Making his way downstairs he stretched his arms above his head and yawned. He could probably sleep a bit more if he stayed in the bed but Claudia would give him a face about it.

Stopping by her door again he knocked twice on the frame. “Buongiorno!”

Claudia looked up to him, her desk had some coins lying around it and the chest he brought yesterday was open on her side.

“It's almost mid-day… but good morning to you too”

Ezio smiled fondly “So, did I bring enough back or do I need to make another trip…”

“I haven't been able to go through all of it but… Yes, we will be cushioned for a while.”

She looked back at her pages to check the numbers.

“There will be a lot of leftovers even after the repairs which is a nice safety net.”

“Good to hear.” Ezio watched his sister focus back on her work again and took it as a cue for him to get going.

“I am going to go down and see how the barracks are coming along. Then maybe visit the blacksmith. Lost some daggers here and there that I want to replace.”

Claudia just hummed in response and waved her quill without lifting his eyes away from her desk.

---------------------------

Once out of the Villa, Ezio gazed down at the town. Feeling the sun hit his face was a rare luxury he got to enjoy only here.

At the top of the stairs, he just watched the people go about their day for a bit. Things were coming along, he noticed yesterday but now with his full attention, he realized Claudia had repaired some more buildings outside of the main street. Some houses were still getting work done with workers outside.

He noticed some more ropes going in between the buildings as well. He chuckled, that was nice of her to do…

He made his way down into the street, nodding at the pleasantries people threw his way, stopping now and then to hear people's troubles.

They were mostly crying about leaking roofs and general upkeep troubles.

He took the street that led to the barracks.

The renovation was still going on but from what he could see they were almost done with maybe a month or so of work left to do.

He walked into the building, most of the chatter stopped for a beat and then continued but he could feel the side glances coming his way.

He paid no mind and went further in, towards the back room. He could hear Mario’s voice boom even through the closed doors.

So that's where his uncle was… with each step the mumblings of Mario’s voice got more clear.

“...I said I would try to talk about a raise but don't push my hand Marsillio. You and I both know I take the defence of this place very se-”

“What's this talk about a raise?”

Mario turned around to face Ezio standing by the open door.

“Ezio! How swell is it to see you” His frown chanced the moment his eyes landed on his nephew.

Approaching him, Mario clasped his forearm in a greeting and patted his back strongly. A big smile was plastered on his face. “I missed you coming back yesterday.”

“Don't worry about it Zio, I went to bed pretty early.” He nodded back in sympathy then looked back at the other person. “Now, what were you guys just talking about?” He tried to keep his tone even.

“Nothing for you to worry about yet, Nipote.” Ezio raised an eyebrow and kept looking at the other mercenary who was doing his best to not avert his eyes.

“We…were just talking to Ser Mario about additional budgeting for the upkeep of our weapons.”

Ah… still after their old payout before he got his hands on the ledger and let his sister make some cuts.

“Why? Don't your men know how to polish their own swords?”

Marsillio smiled sheepishly “They do but you can only polish a dull sword so many times before It will break, sir.”

“Well, are any of them broken?”

“No… not yet but would you rather them break in the heat of the battle and leave our men defenseless?”

Ezio put a hand on his hip. “If Monteriggioni ever has to go into battle, I assure you no funds will be spared for its aid.”

Before the other could get a word in he continued. “I have already factored in the upkeep of your armoury into the budget you were dealt for this year. You will make do with what you are given till I see a reason to allocate more with my own eyes.”

Marsilio looked like he was trying very hard to keep his face straight, Ezio found it quite funny. Answering to a younger man, when you used to be able to get what you wanted with ease would put a chip on any man's shoulder.

He crossed his arms with a smug look he couldn't hide “Well, now that we all have agreed on the budget problem… I had actually come here for a different reason.”

Mario looked at him with slight worry, Ezio shot him a smile to calm his nerves “Nothing pressing or such but I’d like the outside patrols to expand their search area.”

“We already cover plenty of grounds, Ser Ezio. My men have yet to find even tracks of passing bandits.” Marsillio retaliated.

“Then they won't mind having to go a bit further on their search to keep the good people of our town safe, hm?”

He stared at him for a while, seeing the other man's conviction crumble by the second, he clearly wanted to argue against it.

“As.. as you wish sir.”

Really, this was starting to bore him.

Paying these guys for them to complain like young maidens who didn't get enough pocket money for their dresses… but Monteriggioni needed its defences and this was the best they got thanks to Mario, bless his heart.

“That's good to hear, I'm sure the citizens of Monteriggioni will be thankful for your services.” He turned his attention to Mario “It is lovely to see you again Uncle Mario, I’ll try to visit your office later today.”

Mario gave him his signature grin and clasped his shoulder, shaking him with it. “Yes of course! I wanted to hear about your latest doings anyway.”

Ezio gave a nod and left the room. Feeling the pointed stares of others behind his back as he crossed the main room. He knew the mercenaries were not too happy to see him back.

No one would be happy to see their boss back.

He stepped outside of the building, letting himself breathe a bit. He rolled his shoulders to ease his tension… this was such a chore but Claudia was right, these types of men only responded to an authority they feared.

“Once again hiding to the side Domenico? You have been at these swords for three days now…”

A man talked out of the corner of his eye. He was leaning over against the railing that surraunded the Stable. The mention of swords caught his attention.

“Come on, take a break and join me for at least a cup.”

Another man, older than the one who just talked, was inside the open area of the stable with a pile of swords next to him. Sharpening the one in his hand on the whetstone on his lap.

“I told you, I don't like drinking during the day…” “Then come play dice!”

The man sighed. “Don't sigh at me, I am your senior and I order you to come inside. I have yet to see you rest after today's rounds.”

“Angelo, I am resting. See, this is me sitting… which means I am resting”

The older man raised his head to give a look of disappointment to Angelo when his eyes met with Ezio for a second then quickly went back to the other man.

“Yea sure, and laying with your wife is called falling asleep”

“Angelo!”

The man raised his arms in a sheepish defence “I'm joking, I'm joking...” With an impatient huff, he pointed his fingers at Domenico. “Don’t look at me like that, I'll leave you to your rest, but you are ordered to come to the tavern with us tonight. No excuses!”

Ezio chuckled to himself quietly and started walking towards the market, leaving the two men to their bickering. Unlike what Marsilio said, the swords looked fine after all.

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #if i lead #ezides #WAIT BEFORE GETTİNG MAD AT ME FOR CUCKING I SWEAR #THEY WILL MEET ACTUALLY NEXT CHAPTER #I SWEAAARRR #I will post to ao3 once my lovely beta reader whips this work into a shape

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walkawaytall · 1 year ago

Note

For the fanfic emoji ask game? And also, yes, I did correct the typos in both prompts because I just couldn't leave it. (retired but not recovered assistant to a big wig).

📃 Ever written something inspired by someone else's fic?

📬 The best comment you ever received?

Thank you for asking!

📃 Ever written something inspired by someone else's fic?

So...not directly, but I know there are headcanons I've picked up reading fics that I sort of adopted as my own and it's been difficult to parse through whether I got something from one particular person or just absorbed a commonly embraced idea while binging on fics back in December (I was in my "I'm just going to read, but I won't ever write fanfiction" stage of denial then). That's been one of the wild things about jumping into fandom after avoiding it for so long -- especially since there was the EU reboot -- working through what's old canon (which I wasn't really acquainted with outside of the movies), new canon, widely accepted fanon, and personal headcanon has been borderline impossible at times. If I do knowingly pull an idea from somewhere other than canon, I do mention it in author's notes, but it's usually smallish details -- I don't think I've written an entire fic inspired by someone else's.

📬 The best comment you ever received?

So, I have received many lovely and encouraging comments and I am particularly partial to the ones that say I've captured characters' voices and characterizations well because, at the end of the day, the characters are far more important to me than how correct my estimation of the time it takes to fly between two planets is. Really, the majority of my comments have been encouraging, and some have been endlessly thoughtful, and I'm appreciative of each one. I would find it difficult to rank one above the rest since I have several that I would consider top-tier comments that have been inspiring and lovely and really made my week.

But this question doesn't ask for the loveliest, it asks for the best, so I'm going to interpret that in the way I think is funniest. And the comment that has brought me the most...entertainment was an anonymous comment left on FFN when the name "Amilyn Holdo" was mentioned in Chapter 8 of Purpose of Heritage:

Amilyn Holdo So I guess in your fanfic universe Han and Leia split up and have a kid who murders his father. Thanks for the warning. I'll find something else to read.

I know this just seems like a very bland and weirdly bitter hate comment, but every time I think about it, it gets a little funnier because:

1. I am like 90% sure I know exactly who wrote this (it's a regular commenter of mine who has been on my I'm Keeping an Eye on You List for like five months) based on some other odd behavior on the part of this person, the intense vitriol they have for the sequel trilogy that makes glancing through one of their profiles feel like reading a manifesto, and their contacting me directly about the guest comment with some really strange timing. And if I'm right and this is that reader, they're still reading and commenting on that story every time I post a new chapter.

2. This fic explicitly takes place between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, a fact that is clearly stated in the fic description. We're stopping literally the morning of the day ESB begins (I may not have the next five thousand chapters written, but I do have the final scene, so I know that much). So, even if I was super on board with the sequel trilogy's take on Han and Leia (which I'm very much not), it literally does not affect this story at all.

3. If they hate the new canon so vehemently that a single mention of a character turns them off of a fic, they should be aware that I was pulling details from From A Certain Point of View since like Chapter One and Leia, Princess of Alderaan (which is where Holdo actually first shows up both chronologically and if we're going by release date) since Chapter Three. That's right: they were reading new canon mixed in with old the whole time!

4. Amilyn Holdo isn't mentioned until about sixty-eight thousand words into the story. They read sixty-eight thousand words of my story and the mere mention of canonical Alliance member Amilyn Holdo, a character who I still can't decide if I want to actually show up, was the final straw. Which means they presumably liked most of those words, because if they were hate-reading, the mention of Holdo would have only given them more resolve to continue. So, you know, my writing isn't good enough to soothe the residual anger someone has for JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson, but it is good enough to hold a really fickle person's attention for sixty-eight thousand words. That's something.

Fanfic writer ask game

#fanfic writer asks #fanfic ask game #sorry for what probably seems like an unhinged analysis of a pretty banal comment #it just still makes me laugh like two months later so

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waitineedaname · 8 months ago

Note

what is hlvrai and please tell me more about this svsss crossover?

hlvrai is Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware and it is a series that made me absolutely bonkers for a solid two years, which is not something most hyperfixations of mine can claim

basically the premise is that a streamer got a special copy of Half-Life VR where the NPCs are self-aware! in reality, it was a streamer and his friends role-playing in gmod and it spiralled rapidly out of control, but oh my god I cannot emphasize enough how funny this series is. there are lines in this series that I still quote because they have wormed their way into my permanent speech pattern. the characters that they managed to come up with basically on the fly are so good, and the ending is absolutely insane

I'm still deciding which direction the crossover should go. I think maybe I should put svsss characters into hlvrai because I do not think hlvrai!gordon would not do well if put in shen qingqiu's shoes. he's so highstrung, I do not think he could pull off the wise master role sqq finds himself in. he would get killed so quickly

shen yuan, however, would be perfect as a streamer slowly being driven insane by his NPC companions. the other characters are trickier to figure out, but I think if I just change which ones of them are aware they're in a video game, it would work. binghe being benrey is too good to pass up, but I think shang qinghua could be tommy, if tommy figured out they were in a game but just chose not to tell anyone. I kinda wanna make mobei-jun into forzen simply because that's funny to me. coomer and bubby.... uh...... get back to me on that. liu qingge could be bubby maybe, and yue qingyuan could be coomer. idk. instead of talking to the system, shen yuan is bitching at his chat, and binghe is like Who Are You Talking To 👁👁 and shen yuan has a heart attack

#asks #lesbianmangoes #it's been so long since i've had to pitch hlvrai omg #it's SUCH a funny series trust me on this #most of my hyperfixations last like six months #hlvrai lasted TWO YEARS #i was like heehee hoohoo i'll watch this youtube series because im bored and it looks funny #and then like two weeks later i felt like i was hit with a baseball bat #i still have such fondness for the streamers responsible for it. rtvs crew i love u #hlvrai is the result of a bunch of very funny people who know each other very well #making each other laugh while playing video game characters #and then somehow they managed to make genuinely compelling characters and a crazy plot out of it #and there's so much potential for like. existential horror and meta stuff in it #like video game characters coping with the reality that they're video game characters #there's a person interacting with you that's somehow More Real than you are #it's fucked!#i wanna put svsss characters in a similar situation #and i just think shen yuan is a very obvious choice for a gamer on the brink of losing his chill #because a video game character won't stop asking about his feet

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madamechrissy · 24 days ago

Text

I'll look After You

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem reader (reader is a mom)

Summary: You longed to hear from Satoru, After an epic night hooking up in a club bathroom, sure you'd been strangers, but he has your number, he made you feel so special... but... he never contacts you again. Ten months later, you have a beautiful baby named Reign, with those exact blue eyes. You never saw him again, couldn't even find him, so now, you are living your life as a single mom. Messy bun, dark circles, exhausted, you run into Satoru one day, and he sees her, his baby girl, and sees you struggling, he knows then, you're what's been missing in his life.

CW: MDNI- Sweet and emotional story, SO MUCH fluff here, Satoru is a freaking doll, misunderstanding led to him not knowing (nothing is kept from anyone on purpose) Fluffy long oneshot, watch Satoru fall in love with reader and his lil girl. Gojo being a dad and being cute! Explicit smut at the end- warnings- breed kink (it's me???) oral (f receiving) dirty talk, possessive Satoru (When isn't he?) Also some flashbacks to the original bathroom hookup (fingering, dirty talk etc) Sexual tension, 10.6k WC <3

Here is the full oneshot! Comments and reblogs SO appreciated if you enjoy <3

You often wondered about him, Satoru was his name.

As you look down at your baby girl, with her brilliant blue eyes while she’s cooing happily, giving you a gummy little grin, you wonder what he’d think if he knew about her. The random guy at the bar you gave your number to after hooking up in a bathroom, the guy who never called, the guy with no social media of which to speak. The guy you never, ever saw again.

Your baby’s father, the best thing that ever happened to you, surely, but also it was very difficult, being a single mom, you’d have to go back to work soon which you were dreading, spending sleepless nights up feeding, changing her. It had been a rough pregnancy, and a shocking one at that, people had questioned you over and over, some mentioned not having her.

But something in you knew you could do this, you could have this baby, you’re broke as fuck but she has all she needs, and she makes you so happy, but those eyes are unmistakable. No one has eyes like that, except her and her… well was he her dad? You wonder if he’d run ten million miles from you if he knew, or would he have been okay with it?

It’s odd that just a night of fun, alcohol and being on antibiotics created this amazing little girl, but you can’t be upset, not when she brightens your world. But you still ache at times, for her to have a dad, you hope you’re enough. You wonder about him though, the bright energetic man, the one that had made you feel more in one evening than anyone ever.

The last man you’d been with.

Yes, it’s been that long, Reign was two months old, so you’re damn near a year, you say it’s because you’re so busy, but something deep in you knows that you felt something for him, deeper than the obvious physical. Something about how he looked at you, at how he laughed, at how he made you feel so special.

You assume it must have been some act, clearly, here you are, alone after all. You both only knew each other’s first names, it’s true, but he had that number. Maybe it wasn’t all you thought it was? Maybe he just was that sort of guy, the one that made women think they’re his everything with one of his kisses, maybe you were just too drunk, and he was too pretty.

You blink a bit, shaking the haze thoughts of him as you yawn a bit, exhausted from Reign keeping you up all night, her tummy had been hurting. You’re sleepily putting things in the cart, baby items, groceries, the essentials, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the produce, wincing then. You have a messy bun and are in pajamas, god help you if you ever wanted to meet a guy.

‘Oh hi, I have a baby with a random blue eyed dude from a bar, I’m broke as fuck, and I wear pajamas to the store. Wanna date?’

Yeah. That would go over well.

“It’s… it’s… you!?” You sleepily look up then, so exhausted you barely register the six foot three man for a moment, then suddenly it all hits.

He stares at you, those blue eyes, the eyes your baby has, wide now, his pouty pink lips dropped open. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember him, like it’s some dream, you feel weak then, chest rising and falling as your breaths come too quickly. He steps closer to you then, he hasn’t seen her yet, nestled in her little car seat on the cart, you’re panicking.

“Do you even remember me? Oh my god, that night my phone broke, and I had just got it, they couldn’t transfer the numbers! And I tried to look you up? But I couldn’t find you… and I never saw you… and then- fuck I’m rambling.” He laughs nervously, swiping his hand through his snowy locks. “Forgive me, please… what I mean to say is… Hi?”

“Hi…” Your baby whines then, and Satoru pauses, blinking and you move to the side then, he steps closer when Reign opens her eyes, grinning at him.

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest, his entire world tilts on its axis, he was already so thrown off by seeing you again, the girl he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of, but now… he looks at you in shock, you look exhausted, but so beautiful, your eyes tear up then, he watches your shoulders slump, then he looks back at the baby, realization sinking in.

“She’s… is she… there’s no way…”

“She’s yours, I only hooked up with you for the past… year.” You manage to say softly, right in the middle of the fruit aisle, Satoru was finding out you have his baby.

“You did this alone?” He says then, blinking back emotions for a girl he barely knew, but who now has a part of him, a part he wants to know so badly suddenly, shocking him.

“I had no clue who you were, how to tell you, even if so, it’s not your responsibility okay? I take care of her just fine, I make it work.” Satoru’s heart breaks then, seeing how tired you are, seeing the endless baby items and cheap toilet paper, a cheap bottle of wine, is that all you get yourself?

You did this alone, you have his baby alone, altering your life while he’s living his just the same, partying with his best friends, working and living a luxurious life. Satoru was rich, and it’s clear his baby and his baby’s mother are struggling, and he’s here doing what? Could he have tried harder to find you!? Could he…

“We’re okay, you don’t have to worry. I’d never come for you for anything, I am happy being her mommy.” You say with a tired smile, reaching to touch her little chubby cheek, and Satoru has never seen anything so beautiful, the two of you.

He’s felt so empty for this year, is this what he was missing?

“Can I… please… Can I know her?” He asks, gulping now, and you blink in shock, nodding quickly.

“I would love that.” You can’t stop your tears then, sniffling and shaking your head. “Please, let’s talk out of a produce aisle?” You whisper, he nods quickly, unable to take his eyes off you, off his baby.

After paying for your groceries, which you protest to, he’s out by your car now, a little minivan that makes him smile, picturing you as some pretty soccer mom already. You take her out of the car seat then, holding her carefully, smiling up nervously at Satoru. His chest swells at seeing you hold her, some instinct takes over, he instantly knows then.

He needs to take care of you both.

“I thought you’d freak out if you knew, be upset or want nothing to do with…”

“God no, no. I mean I don’t know what to think, but… she’s beautiful. Like her mom.” His words make you flush.

“I’m a wreck, Satoru, look at me.”

“You just need some help, doing it all alone?”

“You don’t have to, okay? I can do it.”

He brushes a tendril back off your temple, sighing as he looks at you, at those dark circles that just make you more beautiful, but show the fragility you’re keeping under wraps as best as you can. “I want to help, this is on me too.”

“It’s not, I was on the pill but… antibiotics.” You grumble, holding the baby to your chest now, she is sucking on her little binkie, bright pink. “It’s all on me, I’d love you to be in her life, but don’t feel obligated to pay for anything.”

“You’re stubborn, will she be too?” He narrows his eyes, and you giggle then, the first time in a long time you’ve heard that sound.

“She’s already stubborn, she gave me a hard time, wouldn’t come out.” She wriggles then, and you step a little closer to Satoru. “Wanna hold her?”

“Can you… tell me how to?” He asks, and you smile at him, for a tall, buff man he’s so sweet and precious, nervous even.

“Yes, hold your arms like this.” He does as you ask, holding his arms out, as you gently place Reign in his arms. “Hold her head just so. There you go, hey Reign, this is your dad.”

“Reign?” He asks, in shock as he looks into her eyes, his eyes, but she has your nose, your hair. His lips. She’s… “Perfect.”

“Isn’t she? Is it okay if I call you her dad?”

“It’s… perfect.” He says again, smiling at you, tears making his snowy lashes spike just so, you feel so complete then somehow. You can’t explain it, seeing this melts you, and Reign is so happy she's cooing, sucking on her binky and staring at him, you watch him melt right with you. “HI there, dumpling.”

“Dumpling? She's got a nickname huh.” He grins so big, nodding.

“I moved out of the city for the past year but I just came back to town. How far are you?”

“Oh like ten minutes. Would you… like to come over tomorrow? I'd say today but my place is a wreck.”

“I'd love to. Can I get her something please?”

“You don't have to… but she can always use binkies she throws these things. Ugh, see?” Reign spits out her binky and Satoru snorts as you catch it. She then touches his cheek, and he chokes up.

“I… oh my god. I love her?” He whispers in wonder, and you exhale, blinking tears that refuse to stop falling. “Is that crazy?”

“No. I loved her when I first saw her too. Fuck I'm a wreck “

“Hey…” He steps closer, handing you her carefully and then placing his big hands on your shoulders. “I am here now for both of you, however you'll let me be. Shh.” He brushes your back, resting his head on yours as you hold her close.

“I never thought I'd see you, tell you. I'm overwhelmed. I'm sorry.”

“Yeah me too.”

Of course he is, fuck. He just found out he's a dad, and he's honestly taking it better than anyone could. He brushes your tears away, and your pulse quickens, you clear your throat then. “We don't even know each other, it's insane huh?”

“Absolutely insane. But… I can't wait to spend time with her.” He says softly, you smile up at him, trying not to read so much into it, so happy he wants to be in her life but you have to remember that doesn't mean with you.

“Come over tomorrow I'll cook you lunch? Please don't break your phone again.” He laughs then, nodding as you two exchange numbers.

“Last name is Gojo. I hope one day hers can be?” And yours, he thinks, but he knows it's crazy to say, as he watches you smile so pretty through your tears.

“Maybe we can do that someday. Well, Reign, say bye to dad.” Satoru kisses her little forehead, leaning up then, thinking of kissing you. You both stand there a moment before he opens your door, and you set Reign back in her little pink car seat. You smile up at him again. “I am sorry I'm in pajamas by the way, ugh.”

“They're cute, little snowmen.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you slide in your car, hoping you will see him tomorrow with everything. “See you both soon.”

You drive away, and Satoru calls his driver and assistant then. “Can you order me everything a baby girl needs? And I need it by tomorrow.”

******

There’s a knock on your door, you peek in the mirror one more time, you took a bath last night, your hair is shimmering and clean for once, you have just a little concealer on for those dark circles, a little lip gloss. You’re wearing clothes and not sweats or pajamas, a little top with a cardigan and jeans, nothing fancy but you look human again.

You can’t believe that Satoru will come, until you open that door and see him, standing next to a tired looking dark haired man holding an insane amount of glittery pink bags. Satoru’s grinning at you, wearing Gucci shades and a dress shirt probably worth more than your rent, only one little bag in his hand swinging side to side as he greets you.

“Satoru, you… what is all this?” You ask curiously, and he shrugs a broad shoulder, handing you the little bag.

“All that is for Regin, this is for you though.”

“What!? It’s too many things!”

“Miss, may I?”

You realize he’s just standing there struggling, and come to then. “Oh, yes I’m so sorry! Put them on the table?”

Satoru and Kiyotaka walk in then, you have a little place, it’s about the size of Satoru’s living room altogether, but it’s comfy and clean, lived in and every bit of it has something of you. He sees pictures of you pregnant on your little silver fridge, pictures of Reign all over, along with Christmas cards all placed with magnets. He sees you’ve baked cookies, too, the scent making him starve.

Almost as much as your scent, so sweet and intoxicating, as he stands next to you, gesturing to the bags. “I wanted to get her something, remember?”

“This is a whole store though!” Kiyotaka leaves now, and you’re delving into the bags, gasping as you pull out the softest, fuzziest pink blanket. “Oh my god…”

“I just had them buy everything for a girl? Is pink good?”

You giggle then, smiling as you pull out a pretty pink dress. “She doesn’t know colors yet, Satoru.”

Of course she doesn’t.

Satoru truly doesn’t know shit about kids, he called and told his mom, asking for advice, and almost gave her a heart attack he thinks. “Of course not, I… where is she? Is she napping?”

“She is, but don’t worry she usually wakes up soon. Oh these are so cute, how expensive are these!? She’s gonna wear them for like a week!” You ask then, pulling out a little baby pair of fancy shoes, then two more. “She can’t even walk yet… ah, but these are so cute though.” You’re clearly conflicted, he chuckles a bit, then you stand up. “Oh my god, I’m a shitty host!”

“You’re cute.” His words, all husky with that deep voice of his, make you flush now, making you even cuter to him. “You look pretty today.”

“Oh thank you, I didn’t want you to think I’m constantly a monster.” He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You’re cute either way. This was you pregnant?” He asks, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“Yes, I was a whale, oh god.” He touches the photo then, a longing surging through him, he missed this, he missed you like this. He feels an ache washing through him, looking at your glowing face and round tummy.

“No, you were beautiful.” Your breath catches, eyes shooting to his as he looks at you now, feeling something pulling you towards him, it’s like he takes the air out of your lungs just standing here.

“You’re very sweet, Satoru… thank you.” You manage to breathe out the words, when he looks down at your body now, heating it up with his gaze.

“Did you like being pregnant?”

The words throw images in your mind, of him over you, putting more babies in you, fucking insane ones that you shove down quickly. He was clearly caring, and wanting to be involved, you needed to keep your thoughts to that and only that, despite the way your stomach is fluttering at his proximity.

“I did love being pregnant, feeling her move and kick, singing to my tummy and feeling her calm down. But towards the end it was really rough, because she decided she wasn’t coming out.” You say with a little laugh, Satoru can see in how you speak how much you adore her. “Would you like to see more pictures later?”

“I’d love to. You didn’t open what I got you.”

“You shouldn’t get me anything. Oh, do you want some cookies?”

“Yes please.” He starts munching down on them, moaning. “You baked these?”

“I bake when I’m nervous? It gets insane how much I bake.” He smiles then, you’re tucking your shimmering hair behind your ear, grabbing him a glass of milk before you go grab the little bag.

“Open it, now.” He sips his milk as you sit on the barstool by the counter, fingers gently pulling apart tissue paper, until you open a little box and see a gift card.

“To a spa!? I haven’t ever been to a spa? What I can’t!”

“You will. When you’re comfortable I could watch her, so you could get some time to yourself.” You sniffle then, the kindness of him after all the overwhelming months you’ve had is too much, you shake your head.

“I can’t, it’s all too much, you shouldn’t feel like you have to do this!” He walks to you then, brushing a tear from your cheek, exhaling as he leans down so close.

“Sweetheart, I’m fucking rich, okay?”

“I assumed… wealthy with your clothes…”

“No, filthy fucking rich. Let me spend it on my baby and get her mom just a little thing please? How can you take care of her without any care for you?”

“I just do it, Satoru. I just do it.” He brushes more of your tears now, his lips far too close, you still don’t know him truly but the gesture is melting every defense you may have had up.

“Just go relax one day, not now, when you’re more comfortable.” Reign starts crying then, making Satoru back off just as you’d leaned your chin up, and you two had been so close. You back away too, nervously standing.

“I’ll go get her for you.” You say with a big smile, eyes still watery, and then you bring her out, Satoru’s heart swells even more than it did seeing you, he eagerly picks her up this time, versus being so nervous as before. “Dad spoiled you already.”

“Not even close to spoiled yet.” He murmurs, snuggling her to him.

“Have a seat, please.” He sits on the couch with her, you take one of the many little blankets, gently laying it over her and then sitting on the couch with him, as he stares at her in wonder.

“She barely cries?”

“That’s around you, it seems. She likes you already.” Your words fill him with far too much happiness, a happiness he’s never known, but also such a longing.

“I wish I could have been there.” He whispers, brokenly, the handsome white haired man holding your little girl, and suddenly you can picture it, maybe his big bright smile during what was a difficult labor.

“You’re here now.” You assure him, a hand gentle on his shoulder, the caress delicate before you think better of it, pulling your hand back. “I thought about you a lot, I mean… I tried to find you.”

“I wish you had.”

“Really?” He nods then, emotional. “Satoru Gojo, you surprised me, I thought for sure you’d turn and run.”

“Nah, why? Look at her.” She’s blinking her long lashes, grinning at him then. “So what do I like… do with her? Besides holding her?”

You laugh softly then, it’s so easy to have him around, it feels so natural that it’s weird. “Well you can feed her a bottle I pumped, but I breast feed mostly.”

He gulps now, looking at your top, where your nipples were pressing against the thin fabric. “Oh?”

“Yeah, depending on her mood, sometimes she is vicious. I’ll show you.” You gently take your top up, feeling his gaze when you pull off your nursing bra.

“That thing is easy access.” He murmurs, you giggle a bit, nervous for him to see you when you let it drop, revealing one of your pretty breasts to him, leaving him dazed before he snaps out of it, handing you Reign.

It’s very intimate, sitting with him while you feed her, she’s sucking hard, so hard you wince then, her little long nails digging into your breast as Satoru smirks. “You’re gonna laugh at this pain?”

“She’s just like her dad, look at her go. A pro.” You snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as Reign aggressively punches your breasts for more milk.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t think you did that.” You murmur thoughtfully, pushing back flashes of the night while she suckles.

“That’s a tragedy.” You look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, while you feed his daughter, his daughter, it’s still not comprehending, it’s still taking him a lot to conceive it’s real. “Look at her face, oh my god!”

Your heart warms as he leans over, and Reign has stopped drinking, a goofy smile on her face. “She’s milk drunk.”

“What now? She looks high as fuck.” You hold in your laughter so you don’t wake her now, her eyes are shut and she’s still sucking on nothing.

“She does look stoned, it always cracks me up. Do you wanna put her to bed? I’ll show you where she sleeps.”

He nods and takes her again, watching your nipple with just a droplet of milk on it, he swipes it away before he can think better, making you shoot your eyes to him, lips parted. You hastily put the bra back up as a blush pinkens Satoru’s cheeks, slipping down your top, his touch on your sensitive nipples almost ended you just now. The desire for him in every way is almost insane.

You show him to the only room in your little place, it’s got a crib and a bassinet, and a tiny little bed that he assumes you must sleep in. You start wrapping her up in the new pink blanket then, swaddling her so tight, he watches in wonder at it, as you bundle her up.

“She’ll like a little burrito.” You snort in laughter, trying to keep quiet and covering your mouth then, looking up at Satoru in amusement.

“She kind of is? Babies like to be swaddled, they feel comfy.”

“You know so much… Have you had any experience before?” You both watch as she settles now.

“No, I learned all this from lots of books and bugging the shit out of my mother. Though she even thought I was crazy to have her. But something…” You trail off then, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

“No, please go on. Something?”

“Something told me I was meant to have her, it sounds crazy. But… I knew I could do it, even if it’s a lot.”

Satoru’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back, as you turn your head to look back up at him, seeing the emotions written all over his perfect face. “You’re doing great.”

You break down then at that, sobbing against his chest as he holds you, soothing rubs on your back. “I needed that, shit I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” You stay like that for a moment, letting him hold you against his chest, your face buried against his shirt, tears spilling freely while you take several breaths. “You’re a great mom, I can already see.”

“Shit…” You pull yourself together, taking several breaths and leaning back then, Satoru’s cupping your face and it takes everything not to kiss him, this man who you still barely know. “I really appreciate that. It’s been hard so far, but I love her so much, it's impossible how deeply.”

“I can feel it already. You, missy, need that break.”

“I couldn’t…”

“I want to be involved, I want to care for her, and that means her mom too. Yeah?” You shake your head, earning his little glare. “Stubborn little brat.”

“Excuse me!?” You glare right back, and he grins.

“You are one!”

“Me a brat?” Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms.

“Mmhmm.” Satoru tilts your chin up, your head falls back then, and he imagines entwining his fingers in it, imagining kissing you just like that night. He leans even closer and you pull back, clearing your throat.

“We should step out so we don’t wake her.” You murmur, when you’re back in the living room you’re carefully folding all the clothes he’s bought. “Oh, I promised lunch! You up for stir fry?”

“I’m up for anything you wanna make, after eating those cookies.” You set to work, and soon the two of you are eating lunch together, Satoru moans as he devours the food. “My god you’re a good cook.”

“Thank you, I love to cook.” You nibble on your rice thoughtfully. “Ugh, I’m gonna hate leaving her to work.”

Satoru scowls now. “Huh?”

“Maternity leave is over in two weeks. I’m just going to work part time though, so I’ll still see her plenty. Maybe I’ll bring her to work?”

“Where do you work?”

“A library, I’m very exciting.” Satoru grins now.

“You look like a little librarian.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Goodie goodie, despite the bathroom…” You both quiet then, as his mind whirls, and yours spins, remembering.

“S-Satoru!” You’d cried out as his fingers had pumped in and out of your tight little entrance, soaking his fingers as he kissed down your neck, you watched your reflection in the mirror as he pressed you against the sink, free hand gripping you right under your chin.

“Fuck, look at you? So sexy…” He murmurs, the club's music pounding like your heart in your chest. He has a big hand muffling your cries as you soak his hands, dripping all over him. “Hear her?”

His murmur against your ear makes you tremble, shivers sending down your spine as he builds that pressure inside you. You nod, drooling against his palm, when he is hitting that spot that has your eyes rolling back, pressing on it over and over with his long, thick fingers. You’re screaming into his hand, ass arching against him.

“That’s it, pretty, cum f’me huh?”

You both get quiet then, you see it clear as day, your face in that mirror as he’d filled you, and he remembers sucking your juices off his fingers, god it’s been almost a year and he can’t get your taste off his mind. He’d been with a few women here and there since he didn’t think he’d see you again, but they were nothing like it, nothing like you.

How your body responded, every little muffled cry, he remembers dying to get you fully naked, planning it all out when he would call you. He wanted you to not even leave his bed, he’d fully taste you, make you cum with his mouth. He’d get to look into your eyes as he filled you so good, have your legs up over his shoulders while he pumped inside.

It’s like electricity in your quiet little home, the two of you sitting in a daze, your breath comes quicker when he leans across the table, brushing your cheek with his fingers, feeling the heat on them. “Warm?” He teases.

“Um, a little.” You stand then, taking his plate and smiling, acting as normal as you can. “All done?”

“Yeah, thank you.” He watches you wash them then, he can’t even fathom not having a dishwasher, but you’re there with your pretty hands and that sponge. He doesn’t want you to work, he doesn’t want you even doing this, you should just enjoy the baby.

But with how stubborn you are, how independent? He doesn’t know if you’ll even take his offer when he makes it.

“How about you come to my place with the little Dumpling this weekend? Maybe… stay a night? I’ll have her something set up.”

“Stay the night?” You nearly break the dish you’re drying, Satoru catches it, suddenly next to you. “Who are you, Edward Cullen?”

“Pshh, I look like a glittery fucking vampire?”

“A bit.” You’re both laughing softly then, he dries the plates and you show him where to put them up. “It’s nice having a giant around.”

“Almost whacked my head on your ceiling fans.”

“The hardships of being stupidly tall, hmm?”

“Hmm.” He leans against the counter now, snowy lashes lowering as he studies you intently, those eyes that just do something to you, even after this long. It feels like you’ve known him, when one of his hands delicately brushes down your shoulder, feeling the soft knit of your cardigan. “You dress like a little librarian.”

“Do I now? Not that night.”

His nostrils flare just a bit. “Not that night.”

Satoru had you lifted on that sink, sinking inside you for the first time, damn near whimpering in your ear as he kissed on your breasts, trying to yank them out as much as he could but failing. “Slutty little dress.”

“S-slutty? You’re… slutty!” You’re clinging to him as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, your cunt is drooling down his veiny length as he fucks into you, your thighs pressing against his narrow hips.

“Both are, listen to her… ha…” He’s got one hand cupping your face, looking at you before he slams his lips down, tongues dancing while his cock keeps thrusting, tip dragging your spot, as you fall apart in the bathroom, a tangle of limbs intermingling with muffled cries. “F-fuck…”

“That dress still does things to my mind.” He admits, and you wonder then, how’d you both get so close? How were you nearly flush against him?

“Does it now?” Your attempt at a tease meets with a broken voice, and you clear your throat, looking down shyly. “I don’t think my ass would fit in it now, your baby girl gave me some hips.”

“I bet they’re sexy.”

“She gave me stretch marks too.”

“Sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You shake your head then, brushing a hand up his chest, wondering just what his body looks like. He's clearly built, you can tell he's muscular, but you have to wonder just how he looks. “You… don’t date anyone?”

“Nah. I mean I have had some dates this year, but nothing serious.” He couldn’t say it’s because of you, because he compares women to this random girl he felt such a pull to, and now it’s a million times worse. Even picturing cute little stretch marks from having his baby makes Satoru feral, it takes a lot not to show you, to act cool and calm with a little smirk.

“I haven’t at all. I mean… I’m so busy with Reign, and the pregnancy.”

“Been a while then?” His words are full of suggestion, his hand now brushes the air across your waist, hovering, like he wants to pull you in, and you’d let him, when Reign starts crying. You both step apart, his hands in his pockets, yours nervously fidgeting with your sweater.

“I’ll go get her.” You come back with her now, and Satoru lights up at seeing her in your arms, bending down to kiss her downy soft hair, sighing.

“Why does she smell so good?”

“Baby smell. I know, it’s addictive.” You inhale her scent, smiling as you are once again a centimeter from Satoru’s lips, your gaze goes to them, glossy and plump.

“Will you come this weekend?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be there Satoru.”

“I am going to learn things, I promise.”

“Satoru, just take it one day at a time. You’re doing great.” He nods then, gulping down his every emotion as he leaves you two, and it feels so awful and wrong to leave you both, every force in the world pulling him back.

“How’d it go, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, as he’s driving him back home.

“Amazing. They're so beautiful.”

“They?”

“I mean…” You both are. “Kiyotaka, do you know shit about babies?” The man smiles tiredly then, shaking his head.

“No, Mr. Gojo, but I see you’re so… happy?”

Satoru has a silly grin then. “I am, I want to set something up for them, think you can order more baby things? For my place?”

“Certainly, Sir.” He smiles as he watches Satoru in the rearview mirror, he never would have pictured something like this, but it’s clear Satoru is beaming.

*****

“Come in, come in!” You pause in awe as you carry Reign inside Satoru’s insanely beautiful home. It's probably ten of your place if not more, sleek and elegant, everything brand new and sparkling clean. He’s instantly taking Reign, who is babbling at him as he cradles her, melting you completely before you even take a step.

“Your place is beautiful.” You murmur, he smiles at you then, taking your diaper bag off your arm and leading you inside.

“Thank you for coming, I missed her already!? Yes I did, dumpling!” He plants kisses all over her face now, Satoru Gojo holding your baby just did things to your heart, rewired your brain, seeing them both light up.

“She missed you too.” You murmur softly, Satoru looks at you then, white teeth glinting under the soft lights, taking in your pretty dress.

“Mama looks pretty.” He whispers, loud on purpose clearly, you’re a blushing mess, when Satoru’s blue eyes sweep over you.

“You’re too much.” You say, but you’re lowkey falling bad, you’d talked with him so much these past few days, as he asked endless questions, but also as you two got to know each other. You’d fallen asleep on the phone last night, Satoru had listened to your light little snore, smiling and falling asleep with you.

It seems too easy, which terrifies you, but so far it’s been Satoru being excited to be a dad, so you keep trying to remind yourself that is what this was, but it’s hard when he looks at you that way. “Too much? You haven’t seen shit. Come on.”

“Oh god.” You follow him now, as he leads you through a wide open hall, winking at you.

“Ya ready?”

“I think so?” He opens the door and it takes your breath for a moment, it’s a fully done nursery with everything a baby could need and more. There’s a pretty crib, a bassinet, a rocking chair even, it’s painted a baby pink with little teddy bears lining the ceiling.

“I know, I went overboard, I don’t know how to not go overboard when I do things? And I want the best for her? I know you probably won’t be-”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

You smile then, placing a hand over his where it rests on Reign’s lap. “It’s beautiful, it’s so beautiful.”

He exhales in relief then. “Yeah!?”

You’re giggling now. “Yeah.”

“Mommy likes it, yes!” His enthusiasm is infectious, it’s the first time you think you’ve truly been light hearted in so long, as he places her gently in the crib. “I had my mom go crazy and paid for it to get set up, really I did nothing but pay out.”

“It’s the most thoughtful thing in the world.” You hug him then on impulse, before pulling back shyly, your eyes meet each other, his hands on your waist. “But how will she go back to my shitty place? I hope she doesn’t get bougie.”

“I want her bougie.” You laugh again softly, she’s playing with the little ovehanging baby mobile, she’s enamored by the hanging stars. You watch him lean over the crib then. “She’s a princess, you know.”

You can’t take it then, you have to step out, shaking now, struggling to catch your breath, when Satoru steps out with you, looking at you with concern. Your feelings of him are utterly overwhelming, the beauty of Satoru fawning over his little girl puts these thoughts in your mind, of being a real family. As someone who didn’t have a father, and didn’t think Reign would, the hope filling you is so much.

“I got too excited.” He nervously admits, leaning against the wall next to you and rubbing the back of his neck. “I want her to have everything, if my mom didn’t talk me out of it she’d already have a pony.” You snort then, even through your tears. “There, a little laugh.”

“It’s not you, this is amazing, it’s just… I planned my life, I planned it all out with her, alone. And now… we won’t be? I don’t know how to process it, how to really believe it. But I’m so happy she’ll have it.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you against him into a big hug, arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you against his chest. “I didn’t think I’d have this, a baby girl? I know what you mean, it’s not what I pictured.”

“Exactly. And… maybe I enjoy this too much.” You look up at him now, his lips quirked up at the side.

“Me too much?” He raises a brow.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Satoru leans down close, when the doorbell rings, he exhales then, laughing softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “So I may have invited my mom. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You are trying to calm your nerves when you meet her, long silky white hair and bright blue eyes. It's clear those genetics are strong, she surprises you by wrapping you in a hug.

“Where’s this grandbaby of mine?”

Soon she’s melting over Reign like the two of you have been, and Satoru’s made you both hot cocoa, family isn’t something you’ve really had, and to feel this comfortable and good? It’s almost like some dream, as you all are so cozy inside, and Reign is just getting fawned over, giving you a little bit of a reprieve until she’s hungry.

“I have a bottle, do you wanna feed her, Satoru?”

“I can do that?” You smile at him, nodding, and soon he’s got a bottle in her mouth, you position his arm just so as his mom watches you both with a knowing smile on her face.

“You know, I could always babysit sometime. For you two… to go out.” You both blush now, looking up at her.

“Go out?” You almost squeak the words out, sipping your cocoa now that it's gone just a little cold, enamored with watching Satoru.

“Yes, go out. Parents need time away.”

“We’re not… um…”

“I’d take you out.” Satoru says softly, and you feel those butterflies in your tummy going wild.

“Yeah?” You manage to ask, failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” He smirks a bit, then Reign coughs. “What’s wrong!?”

“She needs to burp, calm down.” You lift her against your chest, patting her back now. “This is what you’ll do, it’s just some air in her tummy.”

“Oh thank god.”

“You three are precious.” His mom checks her phone then. “I have a meeting, but I hope to see much more of you both.”

“Me too Mrs. Gojo!” She smiles, planting a kiss on Reign’s head then yours before she leaves. “She’s amazing!?”

“I know, right? She was dying to meet her.” His hand rubs Reign’s little back, so big it’s as long as her almost, his other arm resting over the couch, brushing against you when he leans closer. “Thank you for having her.”

“Oh, Satoru… I just wish…”

“Yeah, me too.” He inhales and exhales, his eyes swimming with emotions. “I wish badly. I hate that I missed her coming into the world.”

“I’m so sorry… but I swear, she’ll not remember that, she won’t remember it at all.”

“But you remember.”

“Satoru, it's not your fault, don’t dare blame yourself.” He sighs now, his hand dropping off Reign to rest on your thigh over the thin black tights you wore.

“I don’t want you working yet. Will you let me help?”

“Satoru…” You shake your head. “You are not going to pay my bills.”

“Then stay with me? Stay the year with your baby… with our baby, please. She should have her mom home.”

“It’s too much of an offer, I can’t just live here! We aren’t even…”

“If you hate it I’ll get you your own place. I promise. Just let me take care of you… of both of you?” You stand, turning away, Satoru’s hands grip the sides of your arms as he leans close. “Please think about it.”

“I’m not a charity case, Satoru. I’m okay where I am.”

“I know that, okay? But I missed all of the pregnancy, I didn’t get to help with any medical bills, anything. Please just…” He turns your chin to face him, his glossy lips ever tempting as they hover just above yours. “Please think about it.”

“It’s overwhelming, okay?” He nods then, you lean back just so, feeling his lithe body against your back, leaning back just so.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

“Satoru…” He wraps his arm around you, resting his chin on your head. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“I want to.” For you and Reign, but Satoru can tell your pride is getting in the way, and he can tell you’re conflicted. “Give it time, no rush, yeah?”

*****

After a few weeks of constantly being at Satoru’s house, you damn near almost live there. You come over at about the same time Satoru’s off work, and he learns more and more about Reign every single day. He’s learned how to change diapers, how to feed her, and learns what certain cries mean. Reign rolls over for the first time on her mat and you’ve never seen anyone more excited than Satoru.

He takes selfies with her and they are Insta famous, he has Reign’s name painted on the nursery door, though she tends to still sleep in the room you stay in, with her little bassinet. Satoru’s had you in the guest room, but what you don’t know is at night he checks on you both, he kisses Reign’s forehead and tucks you in, he watches how cute the both of you are.

He watches you with Reign, ever attentive, and it’s about the time you’d have to go back to work, he can feel how devastated you are thinking of it, when you all are quietly sitting in the living room, having nibbled on takeout as Reign sleeps. You take a breath then, looking at the man you’re falling deeper for every day, every moment you spend with him.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah, sweets?” His little nickname always does something to you.

“I would love to stay with you, to stay home with her for a few more months, if you’re sure it’s still okay?”

Satoru jumps up then, picking you up and spinning you, you’re laughing breathlessly as he eases you down, and you’re flush against his body. Despite the endless times you’ve ached to kiss him, to do so much more, you both have been a little apprehensive, you both don’t know what’s okay, what’s not. You both feel far, far too much and are afraid of it.

“You’ll stay!?”

“I’ll stay. But I’ll cook, and help pick up, and-”

“Shh. Just stay.” He’s cupping your face, he’s so close you can almost taste his sweet breath, your lashes lowering over your eyes now. “I want you with her, let me do that for you? And… I want you here. All the time I… miss you when you’re not.”

“Are you giving me puppy dog eyes!?” You demand with a grin, and he pouts his lips.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“It’s working.” You don’t stop yourself, not this once, when you lean up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his, and when you do, the eclectic shocks shoot from his lips, it’s just like that night a year ago, but more intense. You pull back nervously, looking away. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No.” Is all he says, pulling you back, bending low and taking over your lips, he moves them gently over yours, big hands taking over your waist and dragging you closer, mouth opening, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips. Your mouth opens in a gasp, and then his tongue delves inside it. “Don’t apologize for kissing me.”

“Satoru…” He’s exhaling against your lips, kissing you again, soon your back is on the couch, and he’s moving over you, his hand trailing your waist, up to your breasts, your hands clinging to his shirt, gripping the smooth fabric as you fall apart from his kisses. They’re sweet, intense kisses, slow like he wants to savor every moment with you, growing more and more insistent.

He pulls up, just looking at you now, your thighs are around his hips, you feel that ache between them, not just physically either, you crave more and more of him, and you have been since you saw him again. You both just look at each other, speaking without words as he slips up your top, and you yank it nervously, earning his frown, stopping your hand.

“Not ready yet?” He asks, you shake your head.

“You won’t… I’m not… I don’t like my tummy anymore.” You admit softly, tears threatening to spill, Satoru lifts your shirt then, leaning down and running his thumb across the little stretch marks Reign left.

“Well, baby girl… I love your tummy. Should I show you?” You shake your head, breaths coming quicker and quicker now. “You had my baby, you carried her for me, and she left you more beautiful than before.”

“Oh, Satoru…” He kisses your tummy then, and desire shoots straight through you, your hands finally entwining in that silky hair you’ve craved to feel for so long, he’s looking at you under lidded eyes, pressing kisses lower.

“You’re beautiful everywhere. I bet it was sexy pregnant.”

You giggle just a bit, making Satoru smile against your skin, fingers tugging down your pants then, earning a little cry that makes his cock so hard it hurts. He’s been dying to taste you on his tongue, to feel you around his fingers, watch that pretty face in pleasure again, but he’s tried to take his time, tried to focus on Reign, but the thing is, he loves both of you.

He’s in love with you.

The way you move, the way you smile, the way you are with his baby? How your eyes brighten when Reign did something new, how you blushed when he gave you a compliment. But also, how your hips are shifting now, how your eyes are getting lidded, dilated with desire, and how the little silver lines run across where his baby was inside you.

“Satoru… that feels too good I… mmm!” You cry out quietly when his fingers find your slick heat, finding you drenched already.

“You this easy for me?” He asks, you want to retort, something witty, but you can’t, you just gasp out in pleasure when he’s got your pants off, and he’s parting your thighs, long fingers pressing in the plush of your skin as he stares at your pussy. “Fuck you’re pretty.”

You’re trembling as you’re fully bare in front of him, his breath on your clit alone makes you jerk, he places a teasing flick of his tongue right on your clit, you cover your mouth to hide the pathetic moan. He flicks his tongue again, thumps slipping the plump lips of your sex apart, watching the wetness pool out of your little hole, he catches it with his tongue, groaning as he tastes you.

Your hands clutch his hair so hard you’re tugging at his head, eyes rolling back in your skull, biting your lip hard not to make too much noise. He looks up at you, slinking his tongue all the way up your dripping pussy now, from your hole to your clit, groaning as you drip all over his mouth, his face.

“It tastes as good as I remember.” He whispers, enjoying that ruby red blush on your cheeks. “You’re so cute like this, sensitive?”

“You’re torturing me.” He chuckles, the hot air making you whimper, a sound that shoots desire through him. “Please…”

“Please what, pretty?” He casually licks you once more, leisurely as if he has all the time in the world, tilting his head just so to flick the underside of it, watching the tiny little clit twitch. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Make me cum, please.” He moans then, devouring your pussy, his movements less teasing and precise and sloppy, now, lapping up all the juices that pour as you cry out in pleasure, hips bucking up for more, then you feel his fingers sliding in and out of you now, pressing in deep, finding that spongy spot that makes you shiver.

“There you go, you’re clenching me s’good. Can’t wait to feel you around me.” He murmurs, curling his fingers just so, your legs are shaking so hard, you’re falling off that edge, chest rising and falling with your breaths.

“M-gonna… Toru…” Satoru moans now, the sound vibrating against your heat, he looks at you then, eyes dilated and dark, leaning up, his chin coated in your slick, shimmering.

“Cum for me, baby.” At that he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around it, humming and making you shatter under him.

You come so hard you see stars bursting, eyes rolled back, your mouth in the most slutty O as you gasp out, you’re arching off the couch, his name a quiet little broken scream in the quiet room. You feel his smug grin against your sensitive bud, as he nips at it then with his teeth, making you jerk and whimper, leaning back to study your clenching little hole.

“There you go, so good for me, hmm?” He coles those words, slipping up you now, sliding his finger up and down your drippy slit, kissing you, letting you taste yourself off him.

“Need you. All of you.” You murmur then, he pauses his kisses, looking down at you, and emotions surge and mix with the pleasure, the insane need for him to fill you, over and over again.

“If we do, I want more than just… co parenting. I want more than just sex. I want…” Satoru gulps then, cupping your face carefully, your hand comes to grip his wrist, thumb brushing over his strong, fluttering pulse.

“I want more too.” You admit, swallowing nervously, as one of your hands rests on his chest.

“I want you to be my girl.” You’re crying then, nodding eagerly at his sweet and pure words, when he’s kissing you again, salty tears mixing with your taste. “Will you be? My girl?”

“I would love to be yours.” He moans again, standing then, helping you up, your arms wrap around his neck as he carries you, your lips don’t separate when he backs into his bedroom.

“Want you in my bed, every night.” He whispers, easing you onto the floor to stand, slipping your top off and revealing your breasts which sway just a bit, you eagerly unbutton his shirt, showing every inch of his chiseled, perfect frame. You gasp when you finally see him, fingertips trailing across sculpted muscles.

“You’re perfect, Satoru.” You whisper in wonder, and he cups your face again, kissing you deeply, a kiss so beautiful it ruins you forever, Satoru has ruined you forever, you know now what you knew that night deep down. “It’s only you.”

“It’s only you. You’re perfect.” You gasp as he picks you up again, laying you on the bed, you’re eagerly tugging on his pants, gasping when you see his huge, veiny length, something you’d had inside of you bud hadn’t even seen. You stroke him, earning his soft whine, he pins your wrist above your head.

“Lemme touch him, please?” You beg, earning both your hands pinned, as you laugh breathlessly.

“No way, I’m not busting quick, I’ve waited too long for this.” You giggle, earning his pretty glare. “I’m not.”

“You didn’t bust quick that night?”

“Yeah, I did.” You shake your head at him, gasping when he’s pressing against your entrance, he tenses, muscles flexing, when suddenly you both hear it, Reign on the baby monitor. “Shit.”

“Shit…” You both stay completely silent. “Maybe she’ll stop?”

“I sure hope so. Need to get you pregnant again.”

You blink in shock now, as Reign quiets. “Huh!?”

Satoru grins, a devious fucking grin, as he presses your legs apart, one over his shoulder, sinking in as you bite your lip, so filled by him, trembling beneath him as you roll your hips. “I need to see you pregnant, gonna be so fucking sexy.”

“You’re insane, Satoru Gojo.” You gasp when he shoves his length fully inside you, bottoming out and you’re so full you can’t breathe, clinging to his bare shoulders desperately as he moans, feeling your walls flutter.

“You didn’t know that yet? I’ll have to show you, sweetheart.” He’s fucking you then so good, thrusting in and out of your slick cunt, which is drooling all the way down his veiny length. He’s smirking as he rolls his hips just so, watching you start to come apart. “You love it, huh? Cock filling you so deep?”

“Please…” His leaking tip kisses your cervix, you shudder under him, cumming so hard you can’t tether yourself anymore, and he revels in it, in your pretty face all scrunched up, all reddened as you cry out.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself? Want me to fucking fill you?”

“Please…”

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” The words short circuit what’s left of your brain, as Satoru leans back on his knees, hands slipping up your body, gripping your breasts, which have little droplets of milk. You whimper, trying to cover them. “Ah-ah.”

He leans forward, sucking them then, you’re so sensitive you scream, thanking everything Satoru has a huge home and that the baby couldn’t hear anything, because the sounds he writhes out of you are filthy. He leans up, licking the little droplets off and grinning again, possessively gripping your throat, hovering over you as his cock slides in again.

“God, even that’s sweet. All of you. Sweet and slutty.” He huffs, you’re kissing him desperately, nails pressing against his scalp as they grip his hair. “My girl, you’re all mine now, hmm?”

“Wanna be… y-your girl.” You whisper, ending him as your cunt gushes down on him, as he feels the tight muscles grip him like a vise, he eases back, shoving your legs up then in a mating press, every instinct making him crave to make you his again. Cum in you, fill you, make you pregnant. “Toru… I haven’t… not a lot of… exper-ah!”

“That’s alright baby, I’ll fuck you so good, all you gotta do is take it, yeah? Look so fucking pretty f’me.” The sweet, emotional and cute Satoru is now feral, psychotic and possessive, his eyes so blue they hurt to look at, but you’re nodding eagerly. You’ve never been fucked like this, not even close, but he assures you, over and over that you can take him. “That’s right, gonna take all of me.”

Your thighs are smushed against your breasts as Satoru fucks you harder, perfect strokes that hit every spot, spots you can’t even figure out, the ridge of his cock hitting again and again until you’re close, already having cum twice. You’re sobbing under him as he leans his weight on your thighs, folding you in half and going deeper, deeper, bottoming out.

His balls slap heavy on your ass, so full and ready to pump his load in your eager hole, you’re a mess, tears on your cheeks, mumbling incoherently, pussy drooling and loosening more and more. You take him, all of him greedily then, as he slows just a bit, leaning up to press your thighs even higher, watching his cock disappear as your cunt sucks him in.

“Oh look, she’s taking me s’good, she wants it huh? You want it, greedy, slutty pussy.” He’s talking to your pussy, but you also can’t care, not when you’re so close, incoherently whining. “Can’t talk, sweetheart?”

“Gonna… cum… again… Satoru!” He moans as you speak his name, using a forearm to press your legs up, angling his cock just so, shoving deep as he presses a thumb to your clit, ending you utterly.

“There you go, cum on lemme fuckin feel her milk me.” He huffs, husky voice hoarse as your orgasm washes over you, full body, you’re shaking and sobbing as your arousal pours down him, making him tense, gasping. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum in me. Cum in me, please.” You beg weakly, and Satoru does then, full mating press, pumping all his cum so deep, filling you to the brim as he leans down, whimpering with you, tongues sloppy as you kiss.

“Feel s’perfect… gonna make you a mommy again, yeah?” You nod weakly, cunt throbbing as he pumps more and more, nails pressing into his back as you both ride your orgasms out, until you’re sensitive messes. “F-fucking… b-baby…”

“Satoru, g-god…” He is exhaling, easing your sore thighs down then, pulling out and watching the mess that pours from your pussy, a mix of his cum and yours, he grins at it.

“You’re so messy, hmm?” He shoves two fingers in your cunt, pushing his cum back in as you scream out. “Aww, you can’t take it baby?”

“Too much, ngh!” Satoru slips his fingers out, sucking on them and moaning, before repeating it, shoving them in your mouth, you moan as you suck them greedily, both kissing again, a tangled mess of limbs.

“Taste us together, god.”

“So yummy.” He kisses you again, again, again, as you struggle to come back down, heart still racing. “My god…”

“Yeah, holy fuck.”

“You’re like… you have a breed kink like bad.” He snorts then, kissing up the side of your neck.

“Could it have to do with the fact that my girl is gorgeous with my baby? And I’d love to really see her pregnant?”

“I want you there too. I do, even if this is insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, first we have a baby, then we move in together? What next, a first date?”

“You know… yes. Mom offered?”

You giggle at him. “So is this you asking me on a date!?”

“Mmhmm, with my cum pouring out. Wasting it, tsk tsk.” He starts kissing down your body again, when Reign cries, this time loudly. “Ugh.”

“Ugh.” You agree, brushing back his hair when he kisses your tummy. “You make me feel beautiful, Satoru.”

“You are.” He says simply, kissing you deeply, helping you up. “Most beautiful girls there are.”

“I…” You almost say it, but you’re still so afraid, those words on the tip of your tongue. Satoru smiles as if he knows.

“Go check on her.”

“Yeah.” You are soon all dressed, and Reign is no longer crying once she gets swaddled, her binky in her mouth. Satoru comes behind you, arms wrapping you tightly and pulling you against him.

“So, that date?”

“Mmm, got plans already?” You look back at him, as he holds you so sweetly in the quiet room.

“Yeah, the spa you never went to, brat.”

“Oh! Yes, let’s.”

*****

Satoru Gojo and you have had a baby, then moved in, and then you had your first date, which was both of you getting pampered, you were giggling when Satoru kept eating the cucumbers meant for his eyes, when he moved the masseuse because he got jealous of him. “My girl, I’ll rub your back.”

“So jealous.” You tease, but you then sigh in pleasure as his big hands rub your body just so.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I don’t ever wanna lose my girls.” You pause then, leaning up, breasts revealed as you’re just wearing a little towel. But Satoru’s eyes are serious, when he gently rubs his hands down to the back of your hips.

“You’re not losing us.” He’s kissing you, leaning over you in the spa, when he whispers in your ear.

“Let’s go.”

In the backseat of Satoru’s driver’s car, headed back home, you and Satoru devour each other, his hands on your rib cage, his lips on your nipples. Your head falling back, arching up for more, never, ever able to get enough. He’s filling you again, and you’re soaking him again, he’s fucking up into you one moment, one moment you’re controlling it.

A push and pull, a back and forth, endless kisses, until he’s filled you up again, whispering the lewdest things, picturing you as his wife, picturing you pregnant again, but the words are coming out as muffled, dirty words that don’t match. And you feel the same, you think the same, but you’re too fucked out to speak, too lost in everything that is Satoru Gojo.

That night, Reign is up and down, and you’ve just given her a bath, singing to her and cradling her. Satoru watches you, emotions catching in his throat, as a sliver of moonlight darts through the windows, illuminating the faces of the two girls he adores. Reign is being fussy, huffing, but then she hears you sing, and she’s calming, drifting off just so.

You catch him watching you, smiling at him, laying her back down gently. Satoru leans over, brushing a thumb across her cheek, as she sleeps so peacefully. “I love you, dumpling.” He murmurs to her, your heart aches at his words, as you repeat them softly to her, and Satoru wraps an arm around you.

“I love both of you.” You look at him then, so nervous, but he exhales, kissing you softly, feeling tears fall from his eyes, pulling back to see you’re trembling. “I know it’s a lot, but you have to know that I love you. I love both of you so much it hurts.”

“I love both of you.” Your heart hammers in your chest, as a hand slips up your back, and he leans down, blue eyes swirling with tears. “I’ll take care of you both, always. I… I’m complete now, with you both. I can’t ever lose you.”

“Satoru, never. I never want to be without you again.” Your hushed whispers are followed by sweet kisses, until you both close the door quietly, and Satoru has you picked up in his arms, effortless as you hold onto him, resting your foreheads against each other. “I’m home, here.”

“You are home, here. Want you to have my last name, both of you. Please.” You nod, sniffling as he carries you, kissing you desperately, pressing you against the door of his room once you’re back inside. “Need you to have my last fuckin’ name.”

“We will, Satoru. We’ll all be Gojos, hmm?” He grins so big then, easing you down and turning you, vivid memories of that night filling your mind, overwhelming your senses. Your head falls back as he kisses down your neck, slipping your shorts to the side to find you.

“So ready f’me?” You nod weakly. “Good, need to have a whole fucking clan of Gojos, yeah? Gonna give it to me?”

“Mnh, yes.”

You would give Satoru anything, and finally every piece that seemed so out of sorts is in place, as you found something you didn’t know was missing, and he found a family he didn’t know he had. As he eagerly works you so well that night again, you also know you want to give him more.

Taglist: @tiredofeverythingandmyself @yenayaps @bunheadusa @moonlitwitchdaisy @heartsteelkaynconsumer @zoebella30 @twinkling-moonlillie @iamrgo @sylussss7 @minaa-06 @kindablackenedsuperhero @alygator77 @lilica75 @ufoev3 @bub-ss @ailoveyuta @i-luv-ateez-sm @strawberiicreme @gina239 @uhnosav @myahfig4 @silverfangmarks @stxrlingpearl @gojodickbig @jkslaugh97 @ivyvenus333 @msbfc @karmcrim15 @ap-o-llo @loafteaw @kimkimoruo @gh0stgirl333 @victoria1676 @its-carlerrr @evelynxxo @lynnist @burdened-by-images @safixiovi @nanamis-eyebrow @clqxuds @safixiovi Perma tags: @cuntphoric @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo

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read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62133598

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo smut #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x female reader

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corkinavoid · 2 months ago

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DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

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all4yoi · 6 months ago

Text

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for.

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

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cheriecoke · 1 year ago

Text

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

#this is very silly #i just wanted to get it out of my drafts #i’ve had this thought for a while but #i decided i didn’t want to write a whole drabble so now you get this #kento being inexperienced at dating & not enjoying it is very special to me #and so is him having a cat tehe #selfship coded i suppose bc reader is me but it’s not that obvious i hope #kento 💋 ⋆ ˚｡⋆#nanami x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#jjk x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami x gender neutral reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

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jjscrybaby · 26 days ago

Note

hiii :)

could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?

rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life he’d been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. That’s why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummer’s, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.

Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadn’t taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasn’t that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.

It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.

“It’s strange though, right?” The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.

“Rafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,” a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.

“It won’t last, trust me. He’s only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. I’m pretty sure she’s a waitress at the club,” the other one responded.

“I’ll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.” The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didn’t step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything you’d been thinking for the last few months you’d been together, you weren’t sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You hadn’t even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.

Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Breathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.”

He’d seen you like this a few times, he’d learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s stupid,” you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.

“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the women’s bathroom,” he joked, making you giggle tearfully.

You gave him a wobbly smile. You didn’t have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities you’d had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. “No one here thinks I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Baby, what’re you talking about?”

“I— I’m a Pogue,” you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.

“I know that,” he shrugged. “I’m not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?”

“Because everyone thinks it Rafe! I’m sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot for being with me, that you’ve lost your mind. Maybe they’re right,” you cried out.

His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against your’s as he held you in place. “You’re the love of my life.”

“What?” You murmured.

“You are the love of my life. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Pogue, I don’t care that you eat pizza like you’ve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. You’re my girl, and I love you. I don’t care about other peoples opinions, because they’re irrelevant,” he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. “Now, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?”

“The second one,” you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. “Now, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?”

You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didn’t believe his words before, you definitely did now. “You don’t like the bathroom?”

“Well… it’s definitely nicer than the men’s, I’ll give you that.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months ago

Text

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months ago

Text

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him.

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened?

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough.

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop.

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes.

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him.

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was.

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again.

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again.

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table.

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms.

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst

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muniimyg · 2 months ago

Text

♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks 🫵 we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

life sucks.

for jungkook, at least.

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her. sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting.

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end.

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be.

this is just… complicated.

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him…

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he…

how he had you.

for a moment, he really had you.

under him, tangled, and messy.

how he was so close to your lips.

he should’ve kissed you.

he should’ve locked the fucking door.

he should’ve ran after you even more.

but he didn’t…

and now?

now you aren’t even around.

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine.

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong.

it was entirely his fault.

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other.

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you.

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.

he stays silent.

it wasn’t.

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself.

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"what—"

"here."

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest.

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom.

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note.

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs.

does he listen?

obviously not.

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick. seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen. nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :( nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof typing… nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof? seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft? seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit.

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you.

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind.

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue.

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck.

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again.

jungkook thinks about the slap.

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it.

you looked so hot.

it just… gets to him.

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum.

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words.

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special.

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself.

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you.

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think.

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait.

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back.

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that.

friends.

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts.

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd.

holy shit.

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that.

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze.

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully.

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation.

he can’t help it.

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye.

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink.

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat.

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little.

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way.

jungkook refuses to believe it.

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens.

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in.

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck.

no.

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook.

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills.

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache.

that's why you’ve been busy...

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming.

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive.

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you.

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago?

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin.

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts.

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?”

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.”

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red.

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous!

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend.

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out.

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink.

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck.

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here.

not like this.

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you.

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you.

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you.

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.”

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside.

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help.

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening.

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around.

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt.

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down.

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly.

he squints.

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth.

instead, he just breathes you in.

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs.

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it.

short and sweet—he takes it.

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook.

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess.

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore.

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people.

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease.

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more—before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile.

he just nods at you.

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away.

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words.

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there.

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house.

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier.

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens.

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything.

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind.

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it.

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.”

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp.

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself.

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften.

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile.

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat.

“what if i want you to be?”

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious.

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it.

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen.

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable.

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading.

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?”

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

#jk fic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x yn #jk x reader #bts jk fic #bts fic rec #jk fic rec

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jupiterpilgrim · 3 months ago

Text

Drown With Me

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 10K

"I was so happy, you know?"

Her words, her tone, her expression – they’re etched in your memory...

—

Firstly: let's rewind to the moment that started it all. Or rather, the fight that started it all. But just a part of it, because the whole argument was a bit too... dramatic.

—

"You fucking asshole! I can't believe you're making me feel guilty about this trip!" Minji screams, tears streaming down her face as she throws clothes into her suitcase. Her small hands are shaking with rage.

“I just can't understand you! When I keep my shit to myself, you complain that I'm not being truthful in the relationship, and when I decide to tell you what's bothering me, you freak out. You know this promotion means everything to me, Minji, and now you're acting like I'm abandoning you," you snap back, watching her frantically pack from the doorway of your shared bedroom.

"Abandoning me? No, you're just being a selfish prick who can't be happy for his girlfriend's success!" She slams the suitcase shut, mascara running down her cheeks. "I've supported every single one of your career moves, but the one time I get a huge opportunity, you make it all about you!"

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it! I just wish you'd discussed it with me first instead of just announcing you're fucking off to Singapore for a month!"

"Discuss it? With you?" She laughs bitterly. "Why? So you could try to talk me out of it? Make me feel even more guilty?"

"Minji, come on..." You try to reach for her but she jerks away.

"Don't touch me. I can't even look at you right now." She wipes her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "I have to go or I'll miss my flight. Don't bother calling."

You watch helplessly as she drags her suitcase out of the bedroom, the wheels thumping against the hardwood floors. The front door slams shut moments later, leaving you alone in the sudden silence of your apartment.

"Fuck!" You punch the wall, immediately regretting it as pain shoots through your knuckles.

—

She drops it on you out of nowhere, right in the middle of a forkful of pasta, like it’s just casual dinner conversation. “So I’ll be in Singapore for a month. My trip is scheduled for next week.” she says, barely looking up as she keeps eating. No heads-up, no “Hey, I was thinking…” Just lays it out there, cold as fact.

You should be happy for her. Hell, you should feel damn proud. Minji, your Minji, jetting off for a huge business trip, about to prove to everyone what you already know - that she’s amazing at what she does. But instead, there’s this weird little twist of annoyance clawing its way up from somewhere deep. It’s like you’re happy, sure, but there’s this raw, stupid irritation bubbling under it all that you didn’t see coming.

She never mentioned it before. Never talked about weighing options, asked you what you thought, nothing. Just tosses it at you like a done deal, already set in stone. And yeah, it stings a little, like she didn’t even think you’d want a say. It’s petty, it’s stupid, but it’s there, scratching around at the back of your head, whispering: am I an afterthought now?

You catch yourself, feeling like the world’s most selfish boyfriend because you know she deserves this. She’s worked herself to the bone, fought for this chance to prove herself, to show she’s worth every bit of it. Of course you want her to go, to kill it, to come back with stories of how she made the whole damn boardroom take notice. But somewhere inside, there’s still that ugly little itch, wondering - couldn’t she have acted like this was a decision for the two of you? Just… a little?

The guilt starts swirling in after that, heavier than before, sinking low and deep. What kind of boyfriend gets hung up on something so small when his girlfriend’s about to take this huge step? You want to push it down, make it disappear, go back to that exact second before she said anything, and just feel proud. Proud without all this stupid baggage.

But the feeling’s there, thick and stuck, wedged between the pride and the frustration, and there’s no easy way to get it out. So you sit there in silence, forcing yourself to nod, to smile at the right parts, while she lights up, spilling plans and ideas and everything she’s about to do. You’re trying to just let it all go, to be the guy she deserves - a guy who’s genuinely happy for her without strings, without ego. But it clings to you anyway, like some shadow you didn’t invite, and all you can do is pray it doesn’t twist into something even messier down the line.

But we know exactly how it ended.

—

Three days pass in misery, all you have is takeout containers, beer bottles, and mindless TV shows. You've texted Minji multiple times but only gotten short, cold responses. The apartment feels too big, too empty without her presence.

You're sprawled on the couch, starting your fourth beer of the evening, when there's a knock at the door. For a moment, your heart leaps thinking it might be Minji, but you know she's still in Singapore.

"Coming!" you call out, grabbing a t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on as you stumble to the door. When you open it, you find yourself face to face with Ningning, Minji's best friend.

"Wow, you look like shit," she says bluntly, pushing past you into the apartment.

Ningning has always been stunning in an almost intimidating way. Today she's wearing a tight black crop top that shows off her toned stomach and high-waisted jeans that hug every curve. Her long black hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and her dark eyes seem to see right through you.

"Nice to see you too," you mutter, closing the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Minji asked me to check on you." Ningning wrinkles her nose at the mess of bottles and takeout containers. "Good thing she did. This is pathetic."

You run a hand through your unwashed hair. "I'm fine. You can tell her I'm fine."

"Really? Because you look and smell like you haven't showered in days." She picks up an empty beer bottle, examining it. "And it seems like you're trying to drink yourself into oblivion."

"It's none of your business," you snap, snatching the bottle from her hand.

Ningning's red lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Actually, it is my business. Minji's my best friend, and she's worried about you. Even though you're being a total dick about her trip."

"You don't know anything about it."

"I know enough." She steps closer, and you catch another whiff of her perfume. "I know you made her cry before the biggest opportunity of her career. Dick move."

The guilt and alcohol make your head spin. "I didn't mean to... I just... fuck." You sink onto the couch, head in your hands.

You feel the couch dip as Ningning sits beside you, close enough that her thigh brushes against yours. "Hey," she says, her voice softer now. "I get it. Long distance sucks. But it's only a month."

"A month feels like forever right now," you admit. The beer is definitely hitting you now, making your tongue loose. "The apartment feels wrong without her here."

"Then maybe you need a distraction." Ningning's hand lands on your thigh, and your whole body tenses. "Something to take your mind off things."

You turn to look at her, meaning to tell her to back off, but the words die in your throat. She's closer than you expected, those dark eyes boring into yours. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and you can't help tracking the movement.

"Ning..." you start, but you're not sure if it's a warning or something else.

"I always wondered what it was like to be in Minji's shoes," she murmurs, her hand sliding higher on your thigh. "Maybe now's my chance to find out.”

"We can't..." But your protest sounds weak even to your own ears. The combination of alcohol, loneliness, and Ningning's intoxicating presence is making it hard to think straight.

"Why not?" Her other hand comes up to cup your face, turning you toward her. "What Minji doesn't know won't hurt her."

Before you can respond, she closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours. For a moment, you're too shocked to react. Then your body takes over, responding to the first intimate contact you've had in days.

Her lips are soft but demanding, nothing like Minji's gentle kisses. When her tongue pushes into your mouth, you taste mint and something sweet. Your hands move of their own accord, gripping her waist and pulling her closer.

Ning swings one leg over your lap, straddling you. The position brings her core right against your growing erection, and she grinds down deliberately, drawing a groan from your throat.

"That's it," she purrs against your lips. "Stop thinking so much."

Her hands slip under your t-shirt, nails scraping lightly against your abs. You know you should stop this, push her away, but your body is on fire with need. When she rocks against you again, your hips buck up instinctively.

"Fuck, you're already so hard for me," Ningning breathes, pulling back to look at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "Let me take care of you."

She grinds down again, more forcefully this time, and your head falls back against the couch. "This is wrong," you manage to say, even as your hands slide down to grip her ass.

"Then why does it feel so right?" She attacks your neck with lips and teeth, sucking hard enough to leave marks. The pain-pleasure sends jolts straight to your cock.

Your hands slip under her crop top, finding bare skin. Her body is different from Minji's - more toned, with smaller breasts but wider hips. The comparison makes guilt twist in your stomach, but it's quickly drowned out by lust when Ningning bites down on your earlobe.

She pulls back just long enough to yank your t-shirt over your head, then immediately latches onto one of your nipples. The sensation makes you buck up against her again, your cock straining against your boxers.

"Someone's eager," she teases, rolling her hips in slow circles. "Want to see how wet you've made me?"

Before you can answer, she grabs one of your hands and guides it between her legs. Even through her jeans, you can feel the heat radiating from her core. When you press your fingers against her, she moans and grinds down onto your hand.

"See?" She captures your lips in another burning kiss. "I've wanted this for so long. Wanted to show you what you've been missing."

The words should be a bucket of cold water, reminding you of Minji, but instead they just fuel the fire burning through your veins. You squeeze her ass with your free hand, pulling her harder against you as you devour her mouth.

Ningning breaks the kiss to stand up suddenly, leaving you bereft of contact. But before you can protest, she's hooking her fingers into the waistband of her jeans, slowly shimming them down her legs.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of her black lace thong, barely covering anything. Her legs seem to go on forever, and when she turns around to step out of her jeans, you get a perfect view of her round ass.

"Like what you see?" she asks over her shoulder, giving her ass a little shake.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, adjusting yourself in your pants.

She turns back to face you, crossing her arms to grab the hem of her crop top. In one fluid motion, she pulls it over her head, revealing a matching black lace bra. Her breasts strain against the material, nipples clearly visible through the delicate fabric.

"Your turn," she purrs, hooking her fingers in your pants. "Up."

You lift your hips automatically, letting her pull your pants and boxers down and off. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking pre-cum. Ningning licks her lips at the sight, wrapping one hand around your shaft.

"Mmm, bigger than I expected," she says, giving you a few slow strokes. "No wonder Minji always looks so satisfied."

The mention of your girlfriend's name sends another pang of guilt through you, but it's quickly forgotten when Ningning drops to her knees between your legs. She maintains eye contact as she leans forward, running her tongue from base to tip.

"Fuck!" you gasp, hands gripping the couch cushions.

"Just wait," she smirks, before taking you into her mouth.

The wet heat of her mouth is incredible. She takes you deep right away, her throat relaxing to accommodate your length. Unlike Minji's hesitant, gentle oral skills, Ningning sucks cock like she was born for it.

Her head bobs up and down, tongue swirling around your shaft. One hand works what doesn't fit in her mouth while the other massages your balls. The sight of her red lips stretched around your cock, mascara starting to smear from her watering eyes, is almost enough to make you cum right then.

You thread your fingers through her long hair, not guiding her movements but just holding on. She hums around your length, sending vibrations through your whole body. When she pulls back to focus on your tip, sucking hard while her hand works your shaft, you have to grit your teeth to hold back.

"Shit, Ning, I'm gonna cum if you keep that up," you warn her, trying to pull her off.

But she just takes you deeper, looking up at you through her lashes as she deepthroats you. The sight of your cock disappearing into her throat, combined with the intense suction, pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a shout, pumping rope after rope of hot cum down her throat. Ningning swallows it all, continuing to suck until you're completely spent and oversensitive.

When she finally pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva and cum connect her lips to your cock. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

"Tasty," she says, licking her lips. "But we're not done yet."

Before you can recover, she's standing up and reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Her breasts bounce free, smaller than Minji's but perfectly shaped with pink nipples standing at attention.

She hooks her thumbs in her thong, slowly sliding it down her legs. Your cock twitches at the sight of her bare pussy, already glistening with arousal. She's completely shaved, her pink lips puffy and inviting.

"See how wet sucking your cock got me?" She runs a finger through her folds, gathering her juices before bringing it to her mouth to suck clean. "I bet you want to taste me."

You nod dumbly, reaching for her, but she pushes you back against the couch. "Uh uh, just sit back and enjoy."

She climbs back onto your lap, but this time facing away from you. The position gives you a perfect view as she reaches between her legs to guide your semi-hard cock to her entrance.

"Ready for round two?" she asks, rubbing your tip against her wet slit.

Before you can answer, she sinks down onto you in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sensation - she's incredibly tight, her walls gripping you like a vice as she takes you to the hilt.

"Fuck, you're so big," she moans, grinding her hips in small circles. "Stretching me so good."

Your hands find her hips as she starts to move, lifting herself up before dropping back down. The sight of your cock disappearing into her pussy, her ass bouncing against your thighs, has you fully hard again in no time.

Ningning sets a brutal pace, riding you hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with her increasingly loud moans. She reaches back to brace herself on your shoulders, changing the angle so your cock hits deeper.

"Yes, yes, fuck me!" she cries out, her pussy clenching around you. "Harder!"

You plant your feet firmly on the ground and start thrusting up to meet her bounces. The new force has her screaming, her nails digging into your shoulders as she takes everything you give her.

One of your hands slides around to rub her clit, and she nearly convulses at the touch. Her walls flutter around your cock as she gets closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum," she pants, movements becoming erratic. "Make me cum on your big cock!"

You increase the pressure on her clit, rubbing tight circles as you continue to thrust up into her. When she finally breaks, her whole body goes rigid, pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she screams your name.

The sight and sensation of her cumming triggers your own orgasm. You grip her hips hard enough to bruise as you empty yourself inside her, filling her pussy with hot cum.

Ningning collapses back against your chest, both of you breathing heavily. Your softening cock is still inside her, and you can feel your combined fluids leaking out around it.

"Holy fuck," she says after a moment, turning her head to kiss you lazily. "That was even better than I imagined."

Reality starts to creep back in as the post-orgasm haze fades.

You just cheated on Minji.

With her best friend.

On the couch where you and Minji usually cuddle and watch movies.

"We shouldn't have done that," you say, but make no move to push her off.

"But we did." Ningning stands up, cum running down her thighs. The sight makes your spent cock twitch. "And we're going to do it again."

She gathers her clothes and heads to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your guilt and confusion.

What the fuck have you done?

—

The next few days are a sickening mix of shame, guilt and lust, oh, and more incredible sex than you've ever had. Ningning comes over almost every day. You fuck on every surface of the apartment - the kitchen counter, the shower, the dining room table.

She's insatiable, always wanting more, always pushing your boundaries. She makes you do things you've never done before, things you never even considered with Minji.

After that sixth time, with both of you tangled up, tipsy and reckless, she watches as you crumble, phone in hand after hearing Minji’s voice. Tears slip down your face as the reality hits hard. You and Minji talk, stumbling through apologies and whispered promises, mending the torn edges between you. By the end, you’re clear: Ningning won’t be coming around again.

When you tell Ningning, she just smirks, as if it were a joke that only she understands. "You’re drunk," she says. "You'll change your mind. We're the same, you and me." Her words dig in, and Ningning knows that you have no way of proving her wrong. So you just grit your teeth and ask her to leave.

She does. But that smile lingers as she goes, certain she’s right.

Oh, and she is.

—

You're sitting on your couch scrolling mindlessly through your phone when you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you freeze at the sight before you. Ningning stands there in a tight white button-up shirt tied above her belly button, red tie, an obscenely short plaid skirt that barely covers her ass, white knee socks, and her black hair in pigtails. Your cock instantly stirs as memories of buying this exact outfit for Minji flood back.

"Like what you see?" Ningning purrs, doing a little twirl that makes her skirt flare up. You catch a glimpse of tiny white panties underneath.

"Ning, how in the world did you get here dressed like that?" You try to keep your voice steady but fail miserably. "We can't keep doing this."

She pushes past you into the apartment, her perfume - sweet and intoxicating - filling your nostrils. "Why not? Minji's gone on her work trip, isn't she? The one she didn't even discuss with you first?"

Your jaw clenches at the reminder. Ningning knows exactly which buttons to push. She saunters over to your couch, deliberately swaying her hips. When she bends over to adjust her sock, her skirt rides up to reveal the full curve of her ass.

"Remember how you bought this exact outfit for Minji?" she continues, straightening up and facing you. "How she said roleplaying made her uncomfortable?" Ningning runs her hands down her body. "Yeah, she tells me everything and, well, I'm here to fulfill your fantasy."

"This is wrong," you protest weakly, but your eyes are glued to her body. "You're her best friend..."

"And you're her boyfriend who she takes for granted," Ningning counters, stepping closer. "When's the last time she really fucked you properly? Made you lose control?"

Your breathing grows heavy as she closes the distance between you. Her small hand traces down your chest, over your stomach, to cup your hardening cock through your pants.

"Mmm, someone's excited," she giggles. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is fighting it."

"Ning..." you groan as she squeezes gently.

"Want to be my teacher?" she whispers, looking up at you through thick lashes. "I've been such a naughty student..."

Your resistance crumbles as she drops to her knees, quickly undoing your belt and zipper. Your cock springs free, already rock hard. Ningning licks her lips.

“Your dick is too good to be unusable for a whole month," she purrs, wrapping her small hand around your shaft. "Minji was very irresponsible this time."

The mention of your girlfriend sends wave of guilt through you, but it's quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as Ningning's hot mouth engulfs your cock. She takes you deep, deeper than Minji ever has, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis.

"Fuck!" you grunt, hands instinctively grabbing her pigtails. She moans around your length, the vibrations making your knees weak.

Ningning pulls back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "Use my mouth," she begs. "Fuck my throat like you've always wanted to fuck hers."

You know you should stop this. Push her away. Call Minji and confess everything. But instead, you grip Ningning's pigtails tightly, using them like handlebars as you thrust deep into her willing mouth. Her throat bulges visibly each time you push in, the outline of your thick shaft visible through her delicate neck.

"Fuck, you really know how to take it," you groan, watching her glossy lips stretch around your girth. Unlike Minji, who always struggles past the halfway point, Ningning swallows your entire length without hesitation.

She looks up at you with watery eyes, mascara already starting to run down her cheeks. The sight of her in the schoolgirl outfit, on her knees, throat stuffed with your cock, is almost too much to handle.

"You like that, don't you?" you growl, pulling her pigtails to force her deeper. "Like being a better cocksucker than your best friend?"

She moans around your shaft, the vibrations making your cock throb. Drool runs down her chin as she gags slightly, but she doesn't try to pull back. Instead, she grabs your thighs and pulls herself even closer.

"Such a hungry little slut," you praise, starting to thrust into her mouth. "Taking my cock deeper than Minji ever could..."

Ningning's eyes roll back as you fuck her face, her throat relaxing to accommodate your full length. Every time you pull back, a string of thick saliva connects her lips to your cock.

"Is this what you imagined?" you ask, increasing your pace. "All those times Minji complained about not being able to deepthroat me... were you thinking about showing her how it's done?"

She tries to nod with your cock still buried in her throat, making herself gag. The sound only encourages you to thrust harder, using her pigtails to control the depth and speed.

Your balls slap against her chin with each stroke now, adding to the obscene symphony of gagging and slurping sounds. Her makeup is completely ruined, black streaks running down her face as tears flow freely.

"Such a good little throat slut," you groan, holding her head still as you fuck into her mouth. "Taking every inch like you were made for it..."

She reaches up to massage your balls while you use her throat, encouraging you to go harder, faster, deeper. The contrast with Minji's careful, hesitant blowjobs is stark - Ningning truly loves having her face fucked.

"Bet you practiced for this," you continue, watching her throat bulge. "Bet you've been using toys for months, just waiting for this moment..."

A particularly hard thrust makes her gag violently, but still she doesn't pull away. If anything, she pushes forward, burying her nose in your pubic hair as she swallows around your length.

The sight of her taking your cock so eagerly, combined with the tight squeeze of her throat, brings you dangerously close to cumming. But you're not done using her mouth yet.

You pull out completely, letting her catch her breath. Strings of thick saliva connect her swollen lips to your cock as she gasps for air.

"Please," she begs, voice hoarse from the throat fucking. "Use my mouth... wreck my throat... show me what Minji's too scared to take..."

You slam back in without warning, making her eyes go wide as you bottom out in her throat. Her nose presses against your pelvis as you hold her there, feeling her throat contract around your shaft.

"Fuck, you're such a good cocksucker," you groan, slowly withdrawing before thrusting deep again. "Taking my cock like a proper slut..."

She moans around your length, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge. Her hands grip your thighs tighter, encouraging you to use her mouth however you want.

Your pace becomes brutal as you chase your orgasm, fucking her face with abandon. The wet sounds of your cock plunging into her throat fill the room, along with her muffled moans and gagging.

"Gonna cum," you warn, pulling her pigtails harder. "Gonna flood your throat with my load..."

She looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for your cum. The sight of her - face a mess, throat bulging, schoolgirl outfit disheveled - pushes you over the edge.

With a final thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt in her throat and explode. She swallows eagerly around your pulsing cock, drinking down every drop of cum as you pump it directly into her throat.

Only when the last spurt has been swallowed do you slowly withdraw, watching as she gasps for air. Her lips are swollen and red, face covered in smeared makeup and saliva.

She couldn't be more beautiful.

"Thank you," she rasps, voice wrecked from the throat fucking. "For showing me what a real face fucking feels like..."

“Damn... That was amazing... You were amazing.”

"All for you, baby," she says hoarsely, standing up. "But now it's my turn to have some fun." She unbuttons her shirt slowly, revealing a lacy white bra underneath.

Ningning sits on the couch, looking at you, sliding her hands along her thighs, waiting for you to touch her.

You approach Ningning, your fingers hover at her entrance, teasing through her slick folds. She's already dripping wet, her pussy lips swollen and flushed pink. You can smell her arousal.

"Mmm, stop being such a tease," Ningning whimpers, spreading her legs wider. Her tiny white panties are soaked through, a dark wet patch visible in the center. "I need those thick fingers inside me..."

You trace light circles around her clit through the thin fabric, making her squirm. "Patience," you murmur. "Good girls wait for what they want."

"But I'm not a good girl," she purrs, grinding against your hand. "I'm the kind of girl who seduces her best friend's boyfriend while wearing a schoolgirl outfit..."

The reminder of what you're doing - who you're touching - sends a fresh wave of guilt through you. But it's mixed with an undeniable surge of arousal that makes your head spin.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her smooth legs torturously slow. She kicks them off impatiently, spreading herself open with both hands to give you a perfect view of her pussy.

"Look how wet I am for you," she breathes, running a finger through her folds. "I've been dripping since I put this outfit on, thinking about how I was going to make you lose control..."

You replace her finger with yours, sliding through her wetness. Her clit is hard and swollen, begging for attention. You circle it slowly, barely touching, making her hips buck seeking more pressure.

"Fuck, your fingers feel amazing," she moans. "Minji told me they would..."

Your cock throbs at her words. "What else did she tell you?"

"Mmm, everything," Ningning says with a wicked smile. "All those late night girl talks, sharing secrets about our sex lives... She loves bragging about how good you are with your hands..."

You push one finger inside her slowly, groaning at how tight she is. Her inner walls grip you like a vice as you start pumping in and out.

"She told me how you can make her cum just from fingering her," Ningning continues, rolling her hips to meet your thrusts. "How sometimes you have to hold her down because it gets so intense..."

Adding a second finger, you stretch her tight hole while curling them to search for that special spot.

When you find it, her whole body jerks.

"FUCK!" she cries out, grabbing your wrist. "Right there! Harder!"

You massage that spot relentlessly, watching her face contort in pleasure. Her small tits bounce with each thrust of your hand, nipples hard and visible through her thin bra.

"Know what else she told me?" Ningning pants between moans. "That sometimes- oh god! Sometimes you make her squirt... but she gets embarrassed... tries to hold it back..."

You add a third finger, stretching her even more. Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud while your fingers work that spot inside her.

"I'm not shy like her," she continues, voice getting higher as pleasure builds. "I want to soak your whole fucking hand... want to show you what you're missing with her..."

Her pussy gets wetter with each thrust, juices running down your wrist and dripping onto the floor. The obscene squelching sounds fill the room as you finger-fuck her mercilessly.

"She also told me about your schoolgirl fantasy," Ningning moans. "How you bought her this exact outfit... but she was too vanilla to wear it... said roleplaying made her uncomfortable..."

Your fingers pump faster at her words, thumb working her clit harder. She's so wet now, practically gushing around your fingers.

"But look at me," she purrs. "Wearing exactly what you wanted... letting you do exactly what you've been dreaming about... being exactly the dirty little slut you need..."

Her words drive you wild. You curl your fingers more aggressively, massaging her g-spot while your thumb rubs quick circles on her clit. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"That's it," she encourages. "Make me cum like you make her cum... show me why she brags about those fingers..."

You can feel her pussy starting to contract around your fingers. Ningning pulls the bra off in one go, breaking the strap. She's close, so close. You lean down and take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking hard while your hand works between her legs.

"Oh fuck!" she screams. "Right there, don't stop, gonna cum gonna cum gonna-"

Her whole body goes rigid as the orgasm hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers like a vice, gushing fluid all over your hand. But you don't stop - you keep going, working her through it as she writhes and moans.

"Don't stop don't stop don't stop!" she chants, riding your hand desperately. More fluid gushes out with each thrust, soaking your arm and the couch beneath her.

Just when you think she's done, another wave hits. Her thighs clamp around your wrist as she squirts again, spraying her release all over you. The sight of your girlfriend's best friend coming undone on your fingers is the hottest thing you've ever seen.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" she screams, grinding against your hand as a third orgasm builds immediately after the second. Her whole body is shaking now, covered in a light sheen of sweat that makes her skin glow.

You keep going, relentless in your assault on her g-spot while your thumb continues its torture on her oversensitive clit. She's babbling incoherently now, lost in pleasure.

"Too much!" she finally gasps, trying to close her legs. But you hold them open with your free hand, not letting her escape the stimulation.

"I thought you weren't shy?" you tease, curling your fingers harder inside her. "I thought you could take what Minji couldn't?"

Those words seem to trigger something in her. Her eyes roll back as another orgasm crashes through her, this one even more intense than the others. She squirts so hard it sprays up your chest, soaking your shirt.

Only when she begs you to stop, you slowly withdraw your soaked fingers. She grabs your wrist before you can pull away completely, bringing your fingers to her mouth.

Looking directly into your eyes, she sucks them clean one by one, moaning at her own taste. Her tongue swirls around each digit, making sure to get every drop.

"Mmm," she purrs after releasing them with a obscene pop. "I taste good on your fingers,” she pants, pulling you up, “but I bet I taste even better on your cock..."

These words are enough to make you sit on the couch, Ningning jumps on your cock with desperate abandon, she adjusts herself on your lap and you feel the warm and delicious grip of her tight pussy. Her schoolgirl skirt fans out around her hips as she rides you, the pleated fabric barely hiding where your bodies join.

"Fuck, you're so big, I bet you need to be careful not to hurt Minji's pussy with that thick cock," she moans, grinding her hips in circles.

And it's true.

Each time you’re with Minji, that balance between careful tenderness and locked-up heat tears at you. And somehow, the comparison between the careful sex you have with Minji and the raw sex you're having now makes your cock throb harder inside her tight hole. Ningning notices, clenching her pussy walls around you.

"Does it turn you on?" she purrs, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. "Knowing you're stretching her best friend's pussy? Filling me up while she's working?"

You grab her hips harder, helping her bounce faster on your shaft. Her small tits bounce with each movement, nipples hard and visible through her thin white shirt. The whole schoolgirl outfit is disheveled now - tie loose, shirt unbuttoned, skirt hiked up around her waist.

"God, you feel so good," she pants, throwing her head back. "So much better than I dreamed about all those nights touching myself..."

Your cock twitches at her words. "You touched yourself thinking about me?"

"Mmhmm," she moans, grinding down harder. "Every time Minji bragged about your cock, I'd go home and finger myself imagining it was you... imagining you choosing me instead of her..."

She starts bouncing faster, her tight pussy taking your full length with each stroke. The wet sounds of her arousal fill the room, along with the slap of skin on skin.

"But the real thing is so much better," she continues, voice getting higher with pleasure. "Your thick cock stretching me open... making me take every inch..."

You can feel yourself getting close, the familiar pressure building in your balls. But you try to hold back, not ready for this to end.

"I can feel you throbbing," she teases, clenching her walls around you again. "Are you going to cum for me? Going to fill up my tight little pussy?"

The thought of cumming inside her makes your cock pulse dangerously. You know this shouldn't be happening, but her pussy feels too good, gripping you like it never wants to let go.

"Do it," she encourages, bouncing even faster. "Cum inside me. Give me what you give her..."

Your hands tighten on her hips as you get closer to the edge. She's riding you like her life depends on it now, taking your cock so deep you can feel her cervix with each stroke.

"One time when Minji was drunk and loose, she told me that you love creampie," she suddenly whispers, and your cock throbs hard at the admission. "Minji mentioned you have a breeding kink... that you love the risk..."

You try to lift her off your cock but she pushes back down hard, taking you to the hilt. "Don't you dare pull out," she demands. "I want to feel you flood my fertile pussy..."

The pressure in your balls is almost unbearable now. Every bounce of her tight pussy brings you closer to the edge. Your cock swells even larger inside her as your orgasm approaches.

"That's it," she moans, feeling you grow. "Give me your cum. Breed me like you want to breed her..."

With a groan, you explode inside her. Your cock pulses violently, shooting rope after rope of hot cum deep in her unprotected pussy. She keeps riding through your orgasm, milking every drop from your throbbing shaft.

"Fuck yes!" she cries out, grinding down hard as you fill her. "I can feel you pumping me full... marking me as yours..."

Only when the last spurt of cum coats her walls does she slow her movements. She stays seated on your cock, clenching her pussy to keep your seed inside her.

"Mmm, perfect," she purrs, leaning forward to kiss you deeply. "Now I'm going to keep your cum warm in my pussy all day... let it soak into my fertile womb..."

You can feel the tension in the air, a twisted mix of possessive satisfaction and something darker, something that feels dangerously close to obsession.

You give a low chuckle, tightening your hold on her hips. "About that," you murmur, watching her expression shift as the words sink in. "You do know I had a vasectomy, right?"

For a moment, she just blinks at you, her lips parting as the realization hits. "What?" Her voice is sharp, barely above a whisper, her brows knitting together in visible confusion.

"Yeah. Minji was the one who asked for it," you continue, watching every flicker of emotion on her face. "She said she wouldn’t let me come inside her unless I did.”

“B-but I thought that… The breeding kink…”

“Yeah, I like it, but you know Minji would never go for it. Well, maybe in the future... But at least I can cum inside her now, so that's a win.”

She bites her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. Eyes narrowing, and, for a second, there is an almost obsessive tone in her voice. “So, you’re telling me… this whole time, all of this,” she gestures to herself, still seated on you, your cum mixed with her juices already leaking down her sweaty thighs, “has been for nothing?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Were you actually trying to get pregnant?"

Ningning’s cheeks flush, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Pfft, no way. I'm not crazy! That was just dirty talk to turn you on. I’m not even in my fertile period,” she says, her voice forcedly nonchalant.

You arch a brow, skeptical. Her gaze wavers for a split second, and a strange feeling knots in your gut. For the first time, you notice that hint of danger in her gaze, something deeper and darker… or maybe it's just the image of your adultery reflected in her eyes.

—

Three weeks into Minji's trip, you're lying in bed with Ningning, both covered in sweat from another intense session. She's tracing patterns on your chest with her fingernail, occasionally leaning up to kiss your neck.

"I don't want this to end when she comes back," she says suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you.

"Ning..." you start, but she cuts you off with a kiss.

"Don't give me that bullshit about how wrong this is," she says against your lips. "We both know this is more than just fucking."

"What do you want me to do?" you ask, running your hand down her naked back.

"Break up with her." Ningning's voice is firm, no room for argument. "End it as soon as she gets back."

"I can't do that to her," you protest weakly. "I… I'm still in love with her. My feelings for Minji haven't changed… She doesn't deserve-"

"What she doesn't deserve is a boyfriend who's fucking her best friend behind her back!" Ningning cuts in. "Either you tell her, or I will."

The threat hangs in the air between you. You know she means it - Ningning has never been one to make empty threats.

"You'd really do that to her?" you ask, though you already know the answer.

"I'd be doing her a favor." Ningning sits up, the sheet falling away to reveal her naked body. "Better she finds out now than after you've wasted more of her time."

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It's Minji's mother, and your blood runs cold when you see the message.

"Minji's in the hospital," you read aloud, sitting up quickly. "She collapsed during a meeting. They think it might be her heart condition acting up again."

Ningning's expression doesn't change, but her eyes harden slightly. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Her mom says they're running tests." You're already getting out of bed, looking for your clothes. "I need to call her."

"Of course you do," Ningning says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Run back to her like always."

You ignore her as you pull on your pants and grab your phone. Minji answers on the second ring, her voice weak but happy to hear from you.

"Hey baby," she says, and your guilt threatens to choke you. "Don't worry, I'm okay. Just pushed myself too hard."

"What happened? What are the doctors saying?" You pace the room as you talk, very aware of Ningning watching you from the bed.

"They want to keep me here for observation for a few days." She sounds tired. "But I should still be able to come home on schedule next week."

"That's good," you say, though your stomach churns at the thought. "Just focus on getting better, okay?"

"I miss you so much," she says softly. "I can't wait to come home and just be with you. Maybe we can finally start talking about getting married like we always planned."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Behind you, you hear Ningning scoff quietly.

"Yeah, maybe," you manage to say. "Get some rest, okay? I love you."

Those beautiful words seem to have a sarcastic connotation coming from you now, reality seems to make sense again, your mind being taken over by reason, so logical and obvious, and with it, all you can think is: I ruined everything. After you hang up, you turn to find Ningning already dressed, gathering her things.

"Well, this should be interesting," she says with a cruel smile. "What are you going to do now? Marry her while fucking me on the side?"

"This has to stop," you say, running a hand through your hair. "She needs me right now."

"No, what she needs is the truth." Ningning steps close to you, running a hand down your chest. "When she comes back you will tell her everything or I will. And trust me, my version won't be kind."

She leaves you standing there, torn between desire and guilt, love and lust.

—

The next few days are torture. Minji calls or texts constantly from the hospital, full of love and plans for the future. Meanwhile, Ningning sends you increasingly explicit photos and videos, reminding you of what you'll be missing. And when you ignore everything she sends you: that's when the threats come back. Roughly speaking, it's like she has a double-edged sword, cutting you with both lust and guilt.

But you try to stay away from Ningning, to focus on being there for Minji, but it's like she has a sixth sense for when you're at your weakest…

The knock at your door comes just after midnight. You're lying in bed, unable to sleep, thoughts of Minji in that hospital bed haunting you. When you open the door, Ningning stands there in a trench coat, red lipstick perfectly applied, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Miss me?" she purrs, letting the coat fall open. Black lace barely covers her tits, the lingerie leaving nothing to imagination. Your cock instantly hardens despite your best efforts to resist.

"You need to fucking leave," you growl, but your eyes are glued to her body. She knows she has you.

"Make me," she challenges, stepping closer. Her perfume fills your nostrils - sweet and spicy, nothing like Minji's soft floral scent. "We both know you want this."

"I hate you," you snarl, grabbing her arm and yanking her inside. The door slams behind her.

"Show me how much," she taunts, shrugging off the coat completely. The lingerie is even more revealing than you thought - just scraps of black lace held together by thin straps. Her nipples peek through the sheer fabric.

You grab her throat, pushing her against the wall. "You're a fucking terrible friend. Minji trusts you."

"And yet here you are, getting hard just looking at me." Her hand cups your erection through your sweatpants. "Face it - you like that I'm bad. That I'm nothing like sweet, innocent Minji."

"Shut up," you growl, crushing your mouth to hers. She tastes like cherry lipstick and sin. Her tongue battles yours as she grinds against your hardness.

You bite her lower lip hard enough to hurt. She moans into your mouth, fingernails raking down your chest. Unlike Minji's gentle touches, Ningning wants to mark you, to leave evidence of what you've done.

"Fucking slut," you mutter, ripping the flimsy bra. Her tits spill free, nipples hard and begging to be bitten. You grab them roughly, pinching and twisting until she gasps.

"Yes, hurt me," she pants. "Do all the dirty things she won't let you do."

The reminder of Minji makes you even angrier. You spin Ningning around, shoving her face-first against the wall. One hand tangles in her long dark hair, yanking her head back.

"Is this what you wanted? To be my dirty little whore?" Your free hand comes down hard on her ass, the smack echoing through the room.

"Fuck yes!" She pushes back against you. "Spank me harder. Leave marks."

You rain blows on her ass until it's bright red, each strike punctuated by her moans of pleasure-pain. Your cock throbs painfully, straining against your sweats.

"Look at you, getting wet from being spanked." You rip her panties down, fingers finding her dripping pussy. "Such a filthy slut."

"Only for you," she purrs, spreading her legs wider. "Minji told me how gentle you are with her. But that's not what you really want, is it?"

"Don't talk about her." You thrust two fingers into her roughly, making her cry out. Her pussy clenches around them, cream coating your hand.

"Why not? She tells me everything about your sex life." Ningning rocks back on your fingers. "How you always ask to cum on her face but she won't let you. How you hold back because you're afraid of being too rough."

Rage and lust war inside you. You withdraw your fingers and shove them in her mouth. "Taste yourself, whore."

She sucks them clean eagerly, moaning around them. When you pull them out, spit trails from her lips.

"On your knees," you order, shoving her down. She goes willingly, looking up at you with those dark, knowing eyes.

You free your cock, slapping it against her cheek. Pre-cum smears across her skin. "This what you came for?"

"Mmm, I love choking on your cock." She licks the head teasingly. "She says you're so careful with her mouth, afraid of going too deep."

You grab her hair with both hands, ramming your cock down her throat. She takes it like a pro, nose pressed against your pelvis, throat contracting around you.

"Fuck, you really are a whore." You hold her there until she gags, tears streaming down her face. When you finally let her breathe, she gasps but immediately opens wide for more.

"Use my throat," she rasps. "Make me choke on it."

You fuck her face brutally, hips snapping forward as you force your cock deeper with each thrust. Spit and pre-cum drip down her chin, mascara running from her tears. She maintains eye contact the whole time, those dark eyes challenging you to go harder.

When you pull out, she's a mess - lipstick smeared, face covered in her own saliva. Your cock twitches at the sight.

"Get on the couch," you command. "Hands and knees."

She crawls there slowly while taking off her high heels, making sure you get a good view of her red ass and dripping pussy. Once in position, she looks back at you with a smirk.

"Going to fuck me like you wish you could fuck her?"

You answer with action, lining up and slamming into her in one brutal thrust. She screams, back arching as you bottom out.

"I wanna hear you scream," you growl, setting a punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

"Yes, yes! Wreck my pussy!" She pushes back to meet each thrust, tits swaying beneath her.

You grab her hair again, pulling her head back as you pound into her. Your other hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving fresh handprints.

"Such a fucking whore, seducing your best friend's man." You slam in deeper, making her whole body jerk. "Bet you planned this from the start."

"Maybe," she pants. "Or maybe- fuck! - Maybe I just knew you needed someone who could handle all this."

You respond by fucking her harder, angling your hips to hit that spot that makes her walls clench around you. Her moans get higher, more desperate.

"That's it, make me cum on your cock!" She reaches between her legs to rub her clit. "Show me why Minji keeps you around!"

The mention of Minji's name sends fresh anger through you. You pull out suddenly, flipping her onto her back. Before she can protest, you're back inside her, pinning her wrists above her head.

"I said don't fucking talk about her." You bite her neck hard enough to leave marks, sucking bruises into her skin.

"Make me stop," she challenges, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you deeper.

You release her wrists to grab her throat instead, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. Her pussy gets even wetter, cream coating your cock as you rail her.

"Is this what you wanted? To be choked while I fuck you senseless?" Your thumb presses against her windpipe.

She can only nod, eyes rolling back as her first orgasm hits. Her whole body convulses, pussy spasming around your length.

You don't slow down, fucking her through her climax and beyond. She claws at your back, leaving long red scratches that sting deliciously.

"More," she demands when she can speak again. "I want it all."

You pull out, cock glistening with her juices. "Get that ass in the air."

She quickly flips over, face down and ass up, reaching back to spread her cheeks. Her asshole winks at you invitingly.

"Another thing she won't let you do," Ningning taunts. "But I love it up the ass."

You gather her wetness on your fingers, working them into her tight hole. She moans wantonly as you stretch her.

"Dirty fucking slut," you growl, adding more fingers. "Taking it in all your holes like a proper whore."

When she's ready, you line up your cock with her asshole and push in slowly. The tight heat makes you groan despite yourself.

"Fuck yes, stretch my ass!" She pushes back, taking more of you. "Fill me up!"

You grab her hips, digging your fingers in hard enough to bruise as you bottom out. Her ass grips your cock like a vice.

"I'm gonna sink my cock in that tight little ass." You start thrusting, each movement making her moan.

"God yes! Harder!" She reaches back to spread herself wider. "Use me like the whore I am!"

You pick up speed, watching your cock disappear into her ass over and over. The sight is intoxicating - this perfect little slut taking everything you give her.

Her hand moves between her legs again, fingering her dripping pussy as you fuck her ass. The double stimulation has her trembling, approaching another orgasm.

"That's it, play with that wet cunt while I wreck your ass." You spank her again, leaving more red marks. "Show me what a filthy slut you are."

"So close," she pants. "Fuck, your cock feels so good in my ass!"

You reach around to pinch her nipples, twisting them roughly. That pushes her over the edge - she screams as she cums, whole body shaking.

Her ass clenches rhythmically around your cock, nearly making you lose control. But you're not done with her yet.

You pull out of her ass, flipping her over again. "Open that pretty mouth, whore. Time to taste your ass."

She eagerly takes your cock between her lips, moaning at her own taste. You fuck her face again, slower this time, letting her tongue work over every inch.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you grunt. "Born to take dick in all your holes."

She hums in agreement, reaching up to fondle your balls. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through you.

You pull out before you get too close. "On your back again. Want to see those tits bounce while I fuck you."

She spreads her legs wide as you mount her again, sliding back into her pussy. It's even tighter now after her orgasms, gripping you with a new creamy softness.

"Fuck me raw," she demands. "Make me feel it for days."

You grab her legs, pushing them back until her knees are by her ears. The new angle lets you go even deeper, your balls slapping against her ass with each thrust.

"Gonna fill this pussy up."

"No," she pants. "Want you to cum on my face. Paint me with your load like you've always wanted."

The thought pushes you closer to the edge. You've fantasized about this countless times - covering a pretty face with your cum.

Your thrusts become erratic as you near your peak. Ningning notices and grins up at you.

"Do it," she urges. "Show me what Minji's missing."

You pull out just in time, straddling her chest as she opens her mouth wide. Your cock erupts, shooting thick ropes of cum across her face.

She moans as you paint her, cum landing on her cheeks, lips, forehead. Some gets in her hair, more drips down her chin.

"Fuck yes," she purrs, licking what she can reach. "Mark your territory."

You keep jerking off to failure while admiring your beautiful work of art. Her face is completely covered in your cum, makeup ruined, lips swollen from sucking your cock.

"Fuck yeah," she growls, slurping up every fucking drop she can get her tongue on. “You came so much all over my face, baby."

"Look at you, you filthy little cumdumpster," you grunt, using your cock to spread the cum all over her face like a paintbrush. "Fucking beautiful.”

She looks up at you, a wicked grin on her cum-covered face. "Minji would never let you do this to her, would she?" she taunts, licking the remnants of your orgasm off her lips.

You keep spreading your cum, avoiding her gaze, the guilt gnawing at you. She grabs your wrist, stopping your movements. "Tell me I'm better than her," she demands, pulling your cock back to her mouth, licking the sensitive head.

"Don't fucking say that," you mutter, trying to pull away, but she holds firm.

"Tell me!" she insists, taking your cock deeper into her mouth, sucking hard.

You finally yank your cock away, getting off her abruptly. "No," you say firmly. There's a heavy silence as you pull on your pants and walk to the apartment door to open it and grab the coat she left in the hallway. "Get out!” you exclaim, throwing the coat at her.

“May I clean myself first, sir?”

When she comes out of the bathroom, you're a little calmer.

In fact, you're fucking tired.

“Why are you doing this to her?” you ask, the frustration spilling over, sharp and bitter. “She’s your best friend. Doesn’t any of this mean a damn thing to you?”

Ningning slowly sits on the couch to put on her high heels, taking her time. "Best friend?” she scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Minji’s no friend of mine. Hasn’t been for a long time. You think she even cares?”

You frown, trying to make sense of this mess. “You two were inseparable-”

“Were,” she interrupts, voice cold and dismissive. “Until she swooped in and took you right out of my hands.” Her eyes narrow, and she lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you even remember how we met? How I was the one who introduced you to her?”

You do remember, vaguely, those early nights working late at the bar, Ningning hanging around, laughing too loud, leaning a little too close. And then she’d brought Minji along one night, saying something about “my best friend, you’ll love her.” And you had, instantly.

She watches realization dawn across your face, her smirk deepening. “Yeah, that’s right. I brought her to meet you. She saw me with you and knew exactly what she was doing.” Her voice drops, bitter. “She knew I liked you. And then she went and did what she always does - takes what she wants without a damn thought about anyone else.”

You shake your head, but doubt nags at the edges of your mind. “She couldn’t have known-”

“She knew,” Ningning hisses, stepping toward you, her gaze fierce. “She fucking knew! But that’s Minji, isn’t it? Perfect little Minji, the one who can do no wrong. Sweet, innocent, perfect, while the rest of us scrape for her leftovers.” Her laugh is harsh, cold. “But guess what? She doesn’t get everything. Not anymore.”

The bitterness in her voice grates against you, hitting nerves you didn’t know you had. “You could’ve just told her,” you say quietly. “All of this - the stab in the back, the lies - none of it would’ve happened if you’d just been honest.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really think she’d care? Even if I had told her, she wouldn’t have given a fuck. She’s never cared about me. I was just someone to make her look better, someone to stand in her shadow.” Her voice drips with scorn. “She’s never really seen me.”

“So this is what, revenge?” you demand, voice hard. “Just because she didn’t fall over herself to make you feel special?”

She gives you a slow, dark smile, filled with satisfaction and anger. “Call it whatever you want. But you’re here, aren’t you? And every time you touch me, she loses a little more of that shiny perfect life of hers.”

"You're just a spiteful bitch. You don't deserve Minji's friendship.”

She steps closer, running a hand down your chest, voice low, almost a whisper. “And what does that make you? Huh? Besides a lying, cheating asshole? Minji’s so delicate, so breakable… shouldn’t you be taking care of her instead of - well - fucking me?”

You push Ningning away abruptly and point to the door. “Get out of my sight!”

When the door clicks shut, you glance back at the couch - a disaster of tangled sheets, a pillow on the floor, the lingering scent of sweat and regret. That couch… the same one where Minji used to kneel between your legs, her soft hands trailing up your thighs, her sweet, shy giggles filling the air whenever you teased her.

—

You stand anxiously at the airport arrivals gate, your heart pounding as you wait to see Minji again after a month apart. Your hands are sweaty and trembling - not just from excitement to reunite with your girlfriend, but from the crushing weight of guilt pressing down on you. The past few weeks have been a living hell of secrets, lies and desperate late-night encounters that you know will destroy everything if they come to light.

Finally you spot her emerging through the sliding doors, pulling her pink carry-on suitcase. Despite being sick during her trip, she looks beautiful as ever in her oversized cream sweater and blue jeans. Her face lights up when she sees you and she runs forward, throwing herself into your arms.

"I missed you so much!" she exclaims, pressing her face into your chest. You hold her tight, breathing in her familiar sweet scent, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts of all the times you've betrayed her trust.

"I missed you too, baby," you say, and it's not a lie. You've ached for her every single day she's been gone.

Which makes what you've done even more fucked up.

On the drive home, Minji chatters excitedly about her trip, though you can tell she's tired from the long flight. She mentions feeling weak and dizzy a few times while traveling, which worried her given her heart condition. You listen and nod, but your mind keeps drifting to Ningning's latest threatening text:

"Time's running out..."

—

At home you're helping Minji with her suitcase, trying to act normal while your heart pounds with a mix of desire and crushing guilt. Her delicate frame moves gracefully as she organizes her clothes, and you can't help but stare at her perfect ass in those tight jeans. The same ass you've missed so fucking much this past month.

"I really missed you, baby," she says softly, turning to face you with those innocent eyes that make your stomach twist with shame. Before you can respond, she's in your arms, her soft lips pressing urgently against yours. The familiar taste of her cherry lip gloss floods your senses.

Her tongue slides into your mouth as her hands grip your shoulders. You can feel her whole body trembling with need against yours. "I need you so bad," she whispers between kisses. "It's been too long."

You pull back slightly, studying her face. "Are you sure you're feeling better? Your heart..."

"I'm fine now, completely recovered," she assures you, already working on your shirt buttons. "Please, I want you so much." Her voice is breathy with desire.

Your hands shake slightly as you help her undress. Each inch of exposed skin is like a dagger of guilt mixed with raw hunger. You can't stop thinking about how Ningning's skin felt under these same hands just days ago. But Minji's body is different - softer, more delicate, familiar like coming home.

Her breasts spill free as you unhook her bra, dark nipples already hard and begging for attention. You lean down to take one in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive peak as she gasps. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer.

"Fuck, I missed your mouth on me," she moans. The pure love and trust in her voice makes you want to cry.

You worship her breasts with lips and tongue, trying to pour all your remorse and devotion into each kiss. Her skin tastes sweet and clean, so different from Ningning's musky perfume that still haunts your memories. You trail kisses down her flat stomach, dropping to your knees.

Her panties are already soaked through when you peel them down her legs. The familiar scent of her arousal makes your cock throb painfully. You spread her thighs wider, drinking in the sight of her pretty pink pussy that belongs only to you. Or at least, it should have.

"Please," she whimpers, hips rolling forward seeking your mouth. You don't make her wait, diving in to lap at her swollen clit. She cries out, legs trembling as you devour her like a starving man. And you are starving - for her forgiveness, her love, her pleasure.

Your tongue traces patterns over her sensitive flesh as she writhes above you. You slip two fingers inside her tight heat, curling them to stroke that spot that drives her wild. Her walls clench around your fingers as you pump them in and out.

"Oh god, right there," she pants. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You double your efforts, sucking her clit while fucking her with your fingers. Her thighs begin to shake as she gets close. You can feel her pussy pulsing, drawing your fingers deeper.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, grinding against your face. You hum encouragement against her clit and she explodes, crying out your name as she floods your mouth with her sweet juices. You lap up every drop, helping her ride out the intense orgasm.

When her tremors finally subside, you stand and kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on your tongue. She moans into your mouth, hands fumbling with your belt buckle.

"I need you inside me," she breathes. "Need to feel you stretching me open."

You finish stripping as she pulls you toward the bed. Her small hand wraps around your rock-hard cock, stroking firmly. Pre-cum leaks from the tip and she uses it to lubricate her movements.

"You're so big," she purrs. "I forgot how perfectly you fill me up."

The praise makes you throb in her grip, even as shame burns in your chest. You remember Ningning saying almost the same words as she rode you. Push the memory away. Focus on Minji, only Minji.

You lay her back on the bed, settling between her spread thighs. Her pussy is still dripping from her orgasm as you line yourself up. You start to push inside but she stops you.

"Wait," she says softly. "I need to tell you something first."

Your heart nearly stops.

Does she know?

Did Ningning confess?

"I'm so sorry about our fight," she continues. "I should have talked to you about the trip earlier. I don't want you to think you're being left out. Can you forgive me?"

Relief floods through you, followed immediately by fresh waves of guilt. "Baby, no. I'm the one who should apologize. I was a complete asshole. I love you so much and I never should have..."

She silences you with a kiss. "It's okay. We're okay. Just make love to me now."

You push inside her slowly, savoring every inch as her tight walls stretch to accommodate you. She's so fucking tight after a month apart. Her nails dig into your shoulders as you bottom out.

"Fuck," she gasps. "So full. Move, baby, please move."

You start a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sliding deep again. Each thrust draws soft moans from her perfect lips. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I love you," you tell her between kisses. "Love you so much." The words taste like ashes in your mouth but you mean them with every fiber of your being.

"Love you too," she pants. "Harder baby, fuck me harder."

You pick up the pace, driving into her with more force. The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room along with her increasingly loud cries. Her pussy squeezes you a little tighter, so hot and perfect around your aching cock.

You shift angles slightly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her see stars. Her back arches off the bed as she claws at your shoulders.

"Right there, oh fuck right there!" she practically screams. "Don't stop, gonna cum again!"

You maintain the angle, pounding into her g-spot relentlessly. Her whole body starts to shake as another orgasm builds. You can feel her pussy fluttering around you, trying to milk your cock.

"Cum for me baby," you growl. "Let me feel that tight little pussy cum on my cock."

Your words push her over the edge. She throws her head back with a cry of pure ecstasy as her walls clamp down hard. You fuck her through it, drawing out her pleasure as long as possible.

When she finally comes down, you slow your thrusts but don't stop. You're nowhere near finished worshipping every inch of her perfect body.

You pull out and flip her onto her hands and knees, admiring the curve of her spine and the perfect globes of her ass. Her pussy is dripping down her thighs, swollen and pink from your attention.

You slide back inside in one smooth thrust, both of you moaning at the deeper penetration this position allows. Your hands grip her slim hips as you start moving again, watching your cock disappear into her eager hole over and over.

"You feel so good," you groan. "So fucking perfect wrapped around my cock."

She pushes back to meet your thrusts, taking you impossibly deeper. "Love your cock," she gasps. "Fill me up so good."

You lean forward to kiss and bite at her shoulders, one hand sliding around to play with her clit. She's so sensitive after two orgasms that she jerks at the contact.

"Too much?" you ask, easing the pressure.

"No, don't stop," she begs. "Want to cum again. Please make me cum again."

You rub tight circles on her swollen clit as you continue fucking her from behind. Her moans get higher and more desperate with each passing moment. You can feel her starting to tighten around you again.

"That's it baby," you encourage. "One more time for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

Her arms give out and she faceplants into the pillow, muffling her screams as a third orgasm rips through her. You have to grip her hips tight to keep her from collapsing completely.

When she stops shaking, you carefully pull out and turn her over. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way - hair a mess, lips swollen from kissing, skin flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

You kiss her deeply as you slide back inside her oversensitive pussy. She whimpers into your mouth but wraps her legs around you, pulling you closer.

"I want to try something," she says shyly when you break the kiss. "Something we haven't done before."

Your cock twitches inside her as you wait for her to continue. She bites her lip nervously.

"When you cum... I want you to cum on my face."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Images of Ningning's face covered in your cum flash unbidden through your mind. The way she'd smirked and said "Minji would never let you do this to her, would she?"

You try to keep your voice steady. "Are you sure? You've never wanted that before."

She nods. "I've been thinking about it while I was away. I want to try new things with you. Want to make all your fantasies come true."

Guilt threatens to choke you but your cock throbs traitorously at her words. You kiss her hard, trying to convey everything you can't say.

You start moving inside her again, harder and faster now. She meets you thrust for thrust, getting into it despite her previous orgasms. Her hands roam over your back and shoulders as she kisses and nibbles at your neck.

"You're so beautiful," you tell her between ragged breaths. "So perfect. I don't deserve you."

She doesn't know how true those words are. Doesn't know the depth of your betrayal. But you pour all your love and remorse into every thrust, every kiss, every touch.

You can feel your own orgasm building as her tight pussy squeezes around you. The familiar pressure builds at the base of your spine. Your movements become more erratic.

"Getting close," you warn her. "Where do you want me?"

"On my face," she reminds you breathlessly. "Want to feel your hot cum all over my face."

You pull out with a groan and move up her body. She looks up at you with such trust and love as you stroke your cock above her beautiful face. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips in anticipation.

The sight pushes you over the edge. You cry out as the first rope of cum lands across her cheek. More follows, painting her lips, nose, and forehead with your seed. She keeps her eyes closed but her mouth opens slightly to catch some on her tongue.

When you're finished, you use your still-hard cock to spread the cum around her face, just like you did with Ningning. The comparison makes you sick but you can't help it. Minji looks even more beautiful like this - face covered in your cum, lips curved in a satisfied smile.

"Was that okay?" she asks softly, opening her eyes to look up at you.

You lean down to kiss her cum-covered lips. "You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect."

She giggles and reaches for tissues to clean up, but you stop her. "Let me," you say, grabbing a warm washcloth from the bathroom. You tenderly clean her face, pressing gentle kisses to each spot after you wipe it clean.

"I actually really liked that," she admits as you finish. "The way you marked me as yours..."

If only she knew. If only you deserved her trust and devotion. But you push the guilt down and pull her into your arms, holding her close as if you could protect her from your own betrayal.

"I love you so much," you whisper into her hair. "More than anything."

She snuggles closer with a contented sigh. "I love you too. I'm so glad to be home with you."

You stroke her back as her breathing evens out, exhausted from travel and multiple orgasms. Soon she's fast asleep in your arms, completely trusting and vulnerable.

You lie awake holding her, torn between overwhelming love and crushing guilt. The memory of Ningning won't leave you alone - the way she seduced you, how easily you gave in to temptation. You don't deserve Minji's pure love and trust.

You press a final kiss to her forehead before closing your eyes, praying that someday you'll feel worthy of her love again. For now, you just hold her close and try to forget everything except how perfectly she fits in your arms.

—

Suddenly there's a knock at the front door.

You wake up feeling a little dazed, but soon your brain reminds you of the hell you got yourself into. Your blood automatically runs cold - you'd know that aggressive knock anywhere.

"Ignore it," Minji whispers sleepily.

"It might be important," you say reluctantly, getting out of bed. You quickly pull on your pants while Minji wraps herself in a sheet.

Sure enough, when you open the door Ningning is standing there with a predatory smile. She's wearing a tight black dress that shows off her curves, her long dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

"Oh, did I interrupt something?" she asks innocently, pushing past you into the apartment. Her eyes rake over your bare chest and the obvious bulge in your pants from morning wood.

"Ningningie!" Minji calls happily from the bedroom. "Give me a minute to get dressed!"

While Minji is changing, Ningning corners you in the kitchen. She presses her body against yours, her hand sliding down to squeeze your still-hard cock through your pants.

"Miss me?" she purrs. "I know you've been thinking about me. About all the nasty things we do together."

You grab her wrist and push her away. "Stop it. This has to end."

She laughs. "You know what you have to do if you want it to end. Break up with her, or I'll tell her everything."

Before you can respond, Minji emerges from the bedroom fully dressed. Ningning immediately steps away, her demeanor changing completely as she hugs her best friend.

The three of you sit in the living room while Minji tells Ningning about her trip. You can barely focus on the conversation, too aware of Ningning's predatory gaze and the way she keeps "accidentally" brushing against you.

When she finally leaves hours later, you feel physically ill. You know you're trapped - there's no way out of this that doesn't end in devastating heartbreak for Minji.

That night, after Minji falls asleep, your phone buzzes with a text from Ningning: "Come over. Now."

You shouldn't fucking go. Every fiber of your being screams that this is wrong, that you should stay in bed with Minji's warm body curled against yours. But the threatening texts from Ningning make your blood boil - if you don't show up, she'll spill everything to Minji. That manipulative bitch has you by the balls and she knows it.

"Fuck," you mutter, carefully extracting yourself from Minji's embrace. Your girlfriend shifts slightly but doesn't wake. The guilt churns in your stomach as you slip on clothes and shoes.

The drive to Ningning's apartment is torture. Your hands burn from being pressed against the steering wheel, jaw clenched so hard it aches. When you knock on her door, she answers wearing nothing but a sheer red lingerie set, her nipples are clearly visible through the see-through fabric, and the tiny thong barely covers her pussy.

"You fucking bitch," you snarl, shoving past her into the apartment. "This is the last goddamn time. I'm done with your manipulative bullshit."

Ningning's red lips curve into a wicked smile. "Mmm, I love when you're angry," she purrs, pressing her nearly-naked body against yours. "You can take it all out on me tonight, daddy. I want you to punish me for being such a bad girl."

She produces a pair of metal handcuffs, dangling them from one finger. "I'll let you restrain me. Do whatever you want to me. Hurt me, use me, make me pay." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I know you want to."

Your cock betrays you, hardening in your pants despite your rage - or maybe because of it. Ningning notices and grinds against your erection. "See? Your body knows what it wants, even if you pretend otherwise."

With a growl, you grab her wrists and snap the cuffs around them, perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. She gasps but her eyes sparkle with excitement as you roughly shove her toward the bedroom.

"On the bed. Now." Your voice is cold and commanding. She obeys eagerly, lying back with her cuffed hands above her head. The red lingerie contrasts beautifully with her pale skin, but you're too angry to fully appreciate the view.

You climb onto the bed, straddling her waist. Your hands wrap around her throat - not squeezing, just resting there as a threat. "I should fucking choke you for what you're doing to my relationship."

"Do it," she moans, arching up against you. "Make me suffer."

Instead, you release her throat and roughly grab her tits through the sheer bra. Your fingers find her hardened nipples and pinch them harshly, making her cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Is this what you wanted, you manipulative slut?" You twist her nipples cruelly. "To force me here so I can hurt you?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!" She writhes beneath you. "I love when you're rough with me. So different from how gentle you have to be with precious little Minji-"

"Don't you fucking dare say her name," you growl, slapping her face. The crack of skin on skin is loud in the quiet room. A red handprint blooms on her cheek.

Ningning moans obscenely. "Sorry daddy. I forgot you don't like to be reminded of your girlfriend while you're fucking your side piece."

You rip her flimsy bra off, exposing her full breasts. Your mouth descends on one nipple, biting down hard enough to make her squeal. Your other hand roughly kneads her other breast, pinching and pulling at the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck yes, hurt me daddy!" she cries out. "Mark up these tits that you love to stare at when Minji isn't looking!"

Another harsh slap across her face silences her. "I told you not to say her fucking name." You grab her jaw, forcing her to look at you. "You're nothing compared to her. Just a worthless whore I'm using to get my rocks off."

The words seem to excite her more. She spreads her legs wide, the tiny thong doing nothing to hide how wet she is. "Then use me, daddy. Use this worthless whore's holes however you want."

Your hand travels down her body, roughly groping and squeezing. When you reach between her legs, you find her pussy absolutely soaked through the thin fabric. You yank the thong aside and thrust two fingers deep inside her without warning.

"Fucking slut," you growl as you finger-fuck her roughly. "Already this wet just from being manhandled. You're pathetic."

"Yes! Yes I am!" She rocks her hips, trying to take your fingers deeper. "I'm a pathetic slut who gets off on stealing other women's men. Punish me for it!"

You curl your fingers to hit her g-spot while your thumb circles her clit. But you keep the pressure light, teasing rather than satisfying. She whines in frustration, trying to grind against your hand.

"Please daddy, I need more!" she begs. "Stop teasing me!"

"Shut the fuck up," you snap, shoving three fingers into her mouth. She immediately starts sucking on them obscenely, her tongue swirling around the digits. "That's all your mouth is good for - being stuffed full."

You continue fingering her pussy torturously slow, bringing her close to orgasm before backing off. Her whole body trembles with need, hips bucking desperately. Wet sounds fill the room as you pump your fingers in and out of her dripping cunt.

"Look at you, so desperate to cum on my fingers," you taunt. "Such a needy little whore. I bet you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you like this while I'm in bed with Minji."

She moans around your fingers in her mouth, nodding eagerly. The admission makes your cock throb with anger and arousal. You withdraw your fingers from her mouth and pussy, making her whine at the loss.

"You want my cock, slut? Beg for it." You start undressing, watching her squirm on the bed.

"Please daddy, I need your big cock inside me! Need you to fuck me hard and rough, the way you can't fuck her. Want you to take out all your anger on my tight little pussy. Please please please!"

Once naked, you grab her hair and yank her head up. "First you're going to choke on it." You slap your hard cock against her face. "Open wide, whore."

She parts her lips eagerly and you waste no time shoving your cock down her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like the experienced cocksucker she is. Tears stream down her face as you fuck her mouth brutally.

"This is what you deserve," you growl, watching your cock disappear between her stretched lips over and over. "Being used like the worthless cocksleeve you are."

Ningning moans around your shaft, clearly loving the degradation. Her tongue works the underside of your cock as you thrust, adding to the pleasure despite your anger. Spit and pre-cum dribble down her chin.

You pull out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting your cock to her swollen lips. She gasps for air, face flushed and makeup smeared. "Thank you daddy," she pants. "Love choking on your big cock."

"Shut up," you snap, roughly flipping her onto her stomach. You grab her hips and pull them up, leaving her face pressed into the mattress with her ass in the air. The position strains her cuffed wrists but you don't care.

You tear her ruined thong off completely and spread her ass cheeks, exposing both her holes. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, cream coating her inner thighs. You slap her ass hard, leaving a red handprint.

"Look how wet you are, you fucking slut," you growl, running your fingers through her slick folds. "Getting off on being treated like garbage. Pathetic."

"Yes daddy, I'm pathetic! Please fuck this pathetic whore's pussy!" She pushes her hips back, trying to entice you.

You line your cock up with her entrance and thrust in balls deep in one brutal stroke. She screams into the mattress, her pussy clenching around your shaft. The wet heat of her cunt feels incredible.

"Fuck, your pussy is so tight," you grunt, starting to pound into her roughly. "Too bad it's attached to such a worthless excuse for a woman."

"Yes! Use my tight pussy!" she moans. "Fuck me harder daddy! Show me what a worthless whore I am!"

You grab her hair and pull her head back sharply as you continue drilling her pussy. The new angle lets you hit even deeper, making her whole body shake with each thrust.

"Is this what you wanted so much?" you growl in her ear. "To be fucked like the dirty slut you are? To have your pussy destroyed by another woman's man?"

"God yes! Love being your dirty little secret!" She pushes back to meet your thrusts. "I bet her fragile little heart couldn't handle those dirty words!"

You release her hair, letting her face fall back to the mattress. Your hands grip her hips bruisingly tight as you absolutely rail her pussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, along with her muffled moans and your grunts.

Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, cream coating your cock and balls. The obscene squelching sounds only fuel your anger - she's getting off so hard on being used like this.

You bring your hand down hard on her ass again and again, turning the flesh bright red. Each spank makes her clench around your cock as she cries out in pain and pleasure.

"Fucking whore," you pant as you pound her. "Taking my cock so well. Such a good little cumdump."

"Yes! I'm your whore! I belong to you. Your cumdump!" she babbles into the sheets. "Use me daddy! Wreck my pussy!"

You can feel her getting close, her walls fluttering around your shaft. But you're not ready to let her cum yet. You pull out suddenly, making her whine in protest.

"No! Please don't stop!" she begs. "I was so close!"

"Shut up," you snap, flipping her onto her back again. You grab her legs and push them up toward her chest, folding her nearly in half. "Remember this: you don't belong to me… And I'm not done using you yet."

You slam back into her pussy, somehow going even deeper in this position. She screams in pleasure as you resume fucking her brutally. Her tits bounce with each thrust, nipples still red and swollen from your earlier abuse.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a proper whore," you growl. "This is all you're good for - being a set of holes for me to fuck."

"Yes daddy! That's all I am!" She's nearly sobbing with pleasure now. "Just holes for you to use! Please don't stop!"

Your pace becomes punishing, hips snapping against her with bruising force. The headboard slams rhythmically against the wall as you pound her pussy. Sweat drips down your chest from the exertion.

"Gonna cum soon," she moans. "Please daddy, can I cum on your cock? Need it so bad!"

You wrap a hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to restrict her breathing. "You have to be a good girl if you want to cum."

The choking seems to drive her wild. Her pussy clenches around you even tighter as she gasps for air. You can feel her whole body trembling on the edge of orgasm.

"Please!" she begs when you ease the pressure on her throat. "Please let me cum daddy! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" You slow your thrusts, making her whimper. "Even leave me and Minji alone?"

"N-no," she admits. "Can't give you up daddy. Need your cock too much."

You squeeze her throat again, harder this time. "Wrong answer, whore." You start pounding her pussy mercilessly, your own orgasm building.

"Sorry daddy!" she chokes out. "Please don't stop! Need to cum so bad!" The wet sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room along with her moans and whimpers. You could feel her getting close, walls fluttering around your cock. "Yes, yes yes! Gonna cum so hard for you!"

You keep the punishing rhythm, watching her writhe and arch closer to her peak. Her pussy drips, coating your cock in her arousal.

"That's it, Daddy, make me cum! I want to feel you fill me up when I do!"

But you have other plans. Just as her breathing hitches, her walls starting to spasm, you pull out completely. She cries out in frustrated protest.

"No! Please! I'm so close!"

You stroke your cock over her heaving body. "You don't deserve to cum, you manipulative bitch."

"Please! I need it! Need to feel you cum inside me!"

You aim your cock at her tits as your own orgasm builds. "The only thing you deserve is to be covered in my cum like the worthless slut you are."

She’s shaking, chest rising and falling as she watches, helpless. “No,” she whimpers, hips arching toward you, hands struggling against the cuffs. “Put it back in, Daddy, I need it-I need to cum- Cum with me, plea-” With a grunt, you explode over her perfect tits and stomach, thick ropes of cum painting her skin. She huffs in anger and frustration.

"You bastard! You ruined it on purpose!"

You get out of bed, satisfied with her denied pleasure. "I told you this was the last time. We're done."

She lies there panting, hands still cuffed above her head, covered in your seed. Her pussy is red and swollen from the rough fucking, cream still leaking out.

You unlock the handcuffs and start getting dressed without looking at her. The post-orgasm clarity brings the guilt crashing back full force.

You’re halfway into your shirt when her voice cuts through the room, honey-sweet and venomous.

"One week left." She leans back against the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk. "After that, I'm sending Minji a nice little video collection of us. And until then, you'll be here every night, and no more pranks on me!"

Your hands freeze mid-button, blood chilling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her eyes glint, sharp and dangerous. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been recording us. Why do you think I encouraged you to drink over and over again until you forgot your name?” She lets it sink in, enjoying every second you look at her like she’s lost her mind. “I’m not stupid, and I know you’ll try to crawl back to her. And knowing her, after so much crying, she might even give you another chance. But with some beautiful visual proof of how much you were loving cheating on her, she'll hardly forgive you. Not when she watches you cum in my pussy while I scream your name.”

The anger bubbling up feels like fire beneath your skin. “You’ve been recording us without telling me? You’re out of your fucking mind, Ning!”

“Oh, I’m the crazy one?” she sneers, voice dripping with mock innocence. “And what about you? Lying to Minji, sneaking around to fuck me late at night?” She steps closer, all her rage and bitterness on full display now. “Don’t act like you’re some victim. You wanted this. Now it’s gonna cost you.”

Your hands ball into fists, trying to keep your voice steady. “This is insane. You really think blackmail’s gonna make me stay?”

“I just want her to know the truth,” she laughs, almost sweetly. “I want her to see what kind of man she’s clinging to. I want her to see you for the liar you are. And maybe - just maybe - she’ll finally understand what it’s like to lose something she thought she owned.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spit. “Minji never stole anything from you.”

She’s inches from you now, voice low and seething. “She stole everything,” she snaps, voice shaking with rage she’s clearly been holding back. “She was always the pretty one, the smart one, the good girl. The one everyone wanted to be around. And every time, people just forget about me.”

“That’s all in your head,” you say, shaking your head, voice cold. “Minji would never hurt you on purpose.”

“Please.” She snorts, a nasty smile twisting her lips. “She plays the innocent act so well, doesn’t she? Sweet Minji! Everyone’s favorite! But the second you walked into her life, she had to have you. Didn’t care that I liked you first!”

You laugh bitterly, stepping back. “You’re delusional.”

“Say what you want. You know I’m right.” She shrugs, looking at you like you’re a bug under her shoe. “Minji needs to learn what it feels like to be humiliated. And if you don’t break things off, she’s gonna get a front-row seat.”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “This is all about you. About your fucking ego. You don’t give a damn about me or what happens to her.”

“Believe whatever makes you sleep at night.” She gives you a saccharine smile. “One week. I want you here tomorrow at this same time. And I think you better make me have at least four orgasms to make up for the anger you made me feel tonight... Now get the fuck out of here - I need to make myself cum!”

—

The next few days are exactly the same. You can barely eat or focus at work. You just don't sleep anymore. Minji notices something is wrong but you brush off her concerns, saying you're just stressed about a project.

Ningning keeps showing up at your apartment unannounced, finding excuses to touch you and whisper dirty things when Minji isn't looking. And at night? Well, there you are, in Ningning's room, fulfilling her whims, helpless and at the mercy of a maniac girl. During these days you couldn't find a way to tell Minji the truth. You know it will be the end of your relationship. Damn, you know this will destroy her, and there's no way this ends well, but even so, you keep putting off the truth... Suffering for the inevitable.

You feel like you're going insane.

Finally, the deadline arrives. You're sitting on the couch with Minji when her phone chimes with multiple notifications. "Why the hell is Ning sending me so many messages?” she asks with a chuckle, glancing at her phone's locked screen, showing only the number of messages and the sender. Your heart stops - you know what Ningning has sent.

"Wait," you grab Minji's wrist before she can check the messages. "I need to tell you something first."

She looks at you with concern. "What's wrong? You've been acting so strange lately."

You take a deep breath, knowing these next words will shatter her world. "I... I've been sleeping with Ning."

The color drains from Minji's face. "What?"

"It started when you were away. I was drunk and upset after our fight, and she was there..." You try to explain but the words sound hollow even to your own ears.

"How long?" Minji whispers, tears filling her eyes.

"A month. It... it kept happening. She threatened to tell you if I didn't leave you for her. I'm so sorry, Minji. I never meant-"

"My best friend?" she cuts you off, voice breaking. "How could you do this to me? Both of you?"

Her phone continues to buzz as Ningning sends video after video. Minji's hands tremble as she unlocks her phone and begins scrolling through the videos and photos.

“Babe, don't look…”

"How could you?" she asks, her voice breaking. "With my best friend? In our bed?"

"Minji, I'm so sorry," you start, but she cuts you off with a slap across your face.

"Don't!" she screams, stumbling backward. She throws her phone at the couch with such force that it bounces and falls to the floor. "Don't you dare apologize! When did this start?"

"Three days after you traveled," you admit, your cheek stinging. "It just happened, and then-"

"It just happened?" she laughs hysterically. "What, you just accidentally fell into her pussy? Multiple times?"

She picks up the phone from the floor, scrolling through more of the photos Ningning is still sending. "Oh my god, the kitchen counter? Where I make breakfast every morning? Our fucking couch?"

Her breathing becomes erratic, and she clutches her chest. You step forward in concern, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

"Don't touch me," she gasps. "I can't... I can't breathe…”

She stands up shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her breathing becomes labored and her face contorts in pain.

"Minji?" Panic grips you as she suddenly collapses. You catch her before she hits the ground, frantically calling her name as you dial the emergency number.

The next hours are a nightmare of hospital corridors and worried doctors. Minji's parents arrive and bar you from her room, though you can hardly blame them.

—

Days pass in a haze of guilt and worry. You call the hospital constantly for updates, but they won't tell you anything since you're not family.

Finally, after a week, you get a text from Minji herself.

"You can come see me. Room 412."

Your hands shake as you drive to the hospital. When you reach her room, you almost turn back, but you force yourself to knock.

"Come in," her voice calls weakly.

She's propped up in the hospital bed, looking small and pale against the white sheets. There are monitors beeping steadily beside her, IV lines running into her arm. The sight breaks your heart.

"Hi," you say softly, hovering by the door.

"Sit," she indicates the chair beside her bed. When you do, she studies your face for a long moment. "You look terrible."

"I haven't been sleeping." You lean forward, elbows on your knees. "Minji, I am so, so sorry-"

"Stop." She holds up a hand, just like before. "I don't want your apologies right now. I want answers."

You nod, prepared to tell her everything.

"Why?" she asks first. "Did I do something that ended up hurting you?"

“This has nothing to do with you," you admit. "I take full blame. Ning came to visit me as you asked, I was drunk, lonely and sad. She kissed me and I... I didn't stop her."

“If I'd called earlier and said I was sorry for the fight, would it have changed anything?”

“Minji, this-”

“Answer me with yes or no!” she exclaims and soon begins to cough.

“... Maybe. But it's absolutely not your fault."

“How many times did you fuck her?”

"It happened maybe... Twelve or thirteen times." Each admission feels like ripping open a wound. "She would come over, saying she missed me, and then..."

"And then you'd fuck her," Minji finishes flatly. "In our home. In our bed. While I was thousands of miles away, sick and missing you."

"Yes." There's nothing else to say.

"Did you think about me? When you were inside her, did you think about how this would destroy me?"

"I tried not to think at all," you whisper. "I knew it was wrong, but she kept coming back, threatening to tell you if I didn't keep seeing her."

“Let me see the messages.”

You hand her your phone and everything is there, from the first threatening messages to the most recent ones, the nudes, the multiple missed calls early in the morning, the promises… There was a certain obsession in it all, which made Minji feel bad, returning the phone to you in disgust.

"So you were protecting me, huh?" Minji laughs bitterly. "How noble of you."

"No, I was being a coward," you admit. "I was weak and selfish and I destroyed the best thing in my life because I couldn't keep my dick in my pants."

She flinches at your crude words but doesn't disagree.

"Do you love her?"

"No," you say immediately. "God no, Minji. I love you. Only you! What happened with Ning was just sex, just a horrible mistake that I would give anything to take back."

"But you can't take it back," she says quietly. "You can't undo what you did to me, to us."

Tears start falling down your face. "I know. But please, please give me a chance to make it right. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" She looks at you with those dark eyes that used to hold so much love. Now they're full of pain and disappointment. "Would you get on your knees right now and beg?"

Without hesitation, you slide out of the chair onto your knees beside her bed. "Yes. I'll beg, I'll crawl, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you if you'll let me."

"I heard that conversation of yours," she says suddenly. “When you were talking to your mother on the phone about marrying me."

Your heart stops. You were planning to buy an engagement ring next year.

"I would be so happy," she continues, voice breaking. "I spent that whole month dreaming about our wedding, our future together. And the whole time, you were fucking my best friend in our bed."

"I'm sorry," you sob, grabbing her hand. "I'm so sorry, Minji. Please don't give up on us. Please give me one more chance."

She lets you hold her hand for a moment before pulling away. "I need time," she says finally. "When I get out of here, I don't want you at the apartment. I need space to think."

"Of course," you agree quickly. "Whatever you need. I'll stay with a friend."

"I'm not promising anything," she warns. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again. But... I still love you. God help me, I still love you."

"I love you too, baby," you whisper. "More than anything. I'll wait as long as it takes."

She nods, then closes her eyes. "I don't want you to call me baby. It's disgusting now... I'm getting tired. You should go."

You stand reluctantly, wanting to say more but respecting her wishes. At the door, you turn back.

"Minji? What about Ning?"

Her face hardens. "She was here a few hours ago. We had a private conversation about our friendship. Things that only concern the two of us. Of course, I never want to see her again."

You nod and leave, hope and despair warring in your chest.

—

Outside, the air feels harsh, almost judging, as if the world itself knows what you’ve done.

In the parking lot you see her: Ningning, draped across the hood of your car, wearing a tight red dress that seems inappropriate for a hospital visit. She flashes that sly, knowing grin, like she’s already the winner, already got you tangled in her web.

“Took you long enough,” she purrs, reaching for you, fingertips grazing your chest. “Now we don’t have to hide.”

You step back, swatting her hand away. “No. This isn’t happening anymore. We’re done.”

She laughs, a low, dark sound that echoes in the empty parking lot. “Oh, come on. Are you really going to give up on us just because you had a sad little chat with her?” Her eyes flash with that dangerous mix of pride and amusement. “I know it must have been hard. But now we can be happy together...”

“It was a mistake,” you say, cold. “I betrayed her for what? A few nights of-”

“Of what? Say it,” she cuts you off, stepping closer. “Of something you couldn’t resist? Or are you too much of a coward to admit it? We both know you wanted this as much as I did. You loved every second of it.”

“I don’t want it anymore. Don’t want you anymore.”

She laughs again. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite. You want to play the martyr now, pretend you’re a good guy?” She leans in, her face inches from yours, breath hot on your skin. “Please, you’re still that same bastard who kept crawling back for more. Don’t act like you’re suddenly above it.”

Her words make you want to flinch, but you stand your ground, hands clenched tight. “Maybe I was. But I’m done now. I don’t need you. I need to fix what I broke.”

“Wow, So is she willing to give you another chance? Okay, quite predictable. But you know why she didn’t yell, why she didn’t throw shit at you in there? Because she fucking knows she deserved it,” Ningning starts, her expression is kind of scary, as if she knows all the secrets of the world. “Yeah, she sat there, looking all wounded and pure, but don’t let that act fool you. She knew. She’s known all along, even if she’ll never say it out loud.”

You try to interject, but Ningning cuts you off, her voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t give me that look! I'm not crazy! I saw it in her eyes when I walked in. That flicker of guilt, like she’s been caught, like she’s thinking, ‘Maybe I had this coming.’ Because guess what? She fucking did. She knew I loved you first. I’ve loved you since before she even knew your fucking name.”

She takes a step closer, jabbing a finger at your chest. “Do you know what it was like? Watching her swoop in with her sweet little smile, acting like she was all innocent and shy, when really, she was stealing what was mine? And I said nothing. I stood back, swallowed it, because, what, I was supposed to be the bigger person? Fuck that! She knew how I felt, and she still went for it. And she got you. She fucking won.”

Ningning’s voice cracks, but she pushes through. “And don’t think for a second she’s blameless. She played her part in this. She played you, she played me, and now she’s sitting up there in that hospital bed, acting like she’s some goddamn victim. But deep down, she knows. She knows she took something she never had a right to. And now? Now, she’s paying for it.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and she exhales, running a hand through her hair like she’s trying to keep herself from spiraling further. “But the difference between me and her? I fucking own it. I wanted you, and I took you. I don’t hide behind some bullshit innocence or play the martyr. I go for what I want, and yeah, maybe that makes me the bad guy, but at least I’m honest about it.”

She gives you one last look, as if she's hoping that now you finally understand everything, her voice dropping, quieter now, but no less cutting. “She won’t admit it, but she knows. She deserved every second of this. But you know Minji. She’d rather die than let you see that, let you think for one second that she’s anything less than perfect.”

"You need help, Ning, you've created a whole fantasy in your head. Do you think you're that special to make Minji plot against you like this?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable. You’re pathetic. How can you be so blind and not see the truth? I'm trying to help you make the right fucking choice.” She spits the words at you like daggers. “You and I… we’re the same, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You shake your head, ignoring the pang her words bring. “We’re not the same, Ning. Not anymore.”

“You think you can just walk away from this? From me?”

“Watch me,” you mutter, yanking the car door open. The finality in your voice is ironclad, leaving no room for argument.

“You’ll be back,” she hisses. “You'll miss me when you realize who Minji really is. But then it'll be too late...”

But you don’t look at her as you drive off, leaving her alone in the parking lot.

And that was the last time you saw her.

—

Two months pass slowly. You move in with your friend, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about the mess you've made of your life. Ningning continues to send threatening messages, until you finally block her for good.

Finally, one rainy evening, your phone rings. It's Minji.

"Can we meet?" she asks without preamble. "Tomorrow at the café where we had our first date?"

Your heart races. "Yes, of course. What time?"

"Noon," she says, then hangs up.

You barely sleep that night, alternating between hope and dread. When you arrive at the café the next day, you're thirty minutes early. You order her favorite drink - vanilla latte with an extra shot - and wait.

She arrives exactly at noon, looking beautiful in a simple sundress. Your breath catches at the sight of her. She's gained back the weight she lost in the hospital, her cheeks rosy with health.

"Hi," she says, sliding into the seat across from you.

"Hi," you respond, pushing her coffee towards her. "I got your usual."

A small smile flickers across her face. "You remembered."

"I remember everything about you," you say softly.

She takes a sip of coffee, gathering her thoughts. "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past two months," she begins. "About us, about what happened, about what I want."

You wait, hardly breathing.

"I'm still angry," she continues. "I'm still hurt. What you did... it broke something in me that might never fully heal."

"I know," you whisper. "I hate myself for hurting you."

"But I've realized something," she says, meeting your eyes. "I don't want to hate you. I don't want to let what happened destroy all the good memories we have, all the love we shared."

"What are you saying...?"

"I'm saying... I think I can forgive you. Not completely, not yet. But I want to try."

Tears fill your eyes. "Really?"

"But," she holds up a hand, "there have to be conditions. First, we start as friends only. No romance, no sex, no pressure. We need to rebuild trust before anything else. If it doesn't feel right, then you'll disappear from my life."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. I'll do whatever you want, all at your own pace."

"Second, complete honesty from now on. About everything. One more lie and we're done forever."

"Absolutely," you agree. "I promise."

"And third," her voice hardens, "Ning is out of our lives completely. I'm sure she's still trying to contact you."

You pull out your phone and show her how you've blocked Ningning's number. "Already done. I haven't spoken to her since the hospital. She was waiting for me in the parking lot, thinking that suddenly we would be together."

Minji nods, satisfied. "She tried to convince me that you two were in love."

"What did you say?"

"I told her I saw the messages she sent you, threatening to tell me if you didn't keep sleeping with her." Minji's voice is cold. "She's not innocent. You're both guilty. But you told me you don't love her... Guess I can believe that for now. Oh, and after her mask fell off, I managed to convince her to delete all the videos she had recorded. I think the sight of me in a hospital bed touched her a little bit. No need to thank me."

You hang your head, shame burning through you.

"And," Minji continues, "you told me the truth before she could expose you. That counts for something, I guess."

"I should have told you sooner," you admit. "I was just so scared of losing you."

"And you almost did," she says quietly. "My heart literally couldn't take it."

You reach across the table, hesitantly taking her hand. When she doesn't pull away, you squeeze gently.

"I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you," you promise. "If you'll let me."

She looks at your joined hands for a long moment. "We'll see," she says finally. "One day at a time."

You spend the next hour talking - really talking - about everything that happened. She tells you how betrayed she felt, how the thought of you with Ningning still makes her physically ill. You tell her about the guilt that's been eating you alive, the sleepless nights spent hating yourself.

“I was looking at some wedding rings during my trip, just dreaming…” she says suddenly, catching you off-guard. “I was so happy, you know? Because I thought… I thought I’d found the one I wanted.” Her voice cracks, and she swallows, steadying herself.

The words sink deep, and your chest tightens. “Maybe someday… if we get there again, I’ll buy you the most beautiful ring in the world.”

She gives you a small smile. "One day at a time, remember?"

When it's time to leave, you walk her to her car. Before she gets in, she turns to you.

"I'm having dinner with my parents tomorrow night," she says. "Would you like to come?"

Your heart leaps. Her parents have refused to speak to you since the hospital. "Are you sure?"

She nods. "They need to see that I'm choosing to try again with you. It won't be easy - they hate you right now. But if we're going to move forward, they need to accept it."

"I'll be there," you promise. "Thank you, Minji. For giving me another chance."

She reaches up and touches your face softly - the first intimate contact she's initiated in two months.

"Don't make me regret it," she whispers, then gets in her car and drives away.

You watch until her car disappears around the corner, hope filling your chest for the first time in months. You know the road ahead will be difficult. Trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild. But you'll do whatever it takes to prove to Minji that her faith in you isn't misplaced.

Your phone buzzes - a text from an unknown number.

"Everything I did, I did for you," the message reads. "Hope you are happy with your choice. Don't say I didn't warn you."

You delete the message without responding and block the new number.

She'll have to give up at some point.

The only person you belong to now is Minji - if she'll have you.

As you walk to your car, you start planning how to win back not just Minji's trust, but her heart. It won't be easy, but nothing worth having ever is. And Minji is worth everything.

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