#its not even actual cards apparently

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

Omg look what was in store this is so cool!!!!!!

Never fucking mind yeah its cool in your dreams motherfuckers do they think money grows on my back or something

[widevibratobitch]

something about being told im 'the leading person at this whole academy when it comes to interpretation and stage intelligence' by the husband of the woman im trying (not really. but i mean. who knows) to seduce... ok boy you got me. lets make it a polycule.

[asiogie]

Were tickets on sale when you all got the cards? Or did they only drop this morning?

mine was bought and paid for last night!

[bbrabbits]

i hate being an annoying ass hopeless romantic it makes being not taken actually insufferable. i cant even call myself single bc im NOT im plural & my alters are all aro except one other besides me so im not taken AND annoying by default

[dravidious]

Concept: A game or something in one of those fantasy settings where the lore/NPCs/characters talk about how awful and nasty and cruel and disgusting and Evil Incarnate the monsters are, but then they're just. People. Or animals. Like yeah the goblins will attack you, but they're just doing their jobs, and after you beat them up they just go play poker or something.

A cutscene introduces goblins and it pauses to give you the lore like "these monstrous creatures are so foul they poison the very land with their presence, they sow misery and cruelty wherever they go" and then it unpauses and the two goblins are just chatting while on guard duty. About the weather or something.

You encounter a swamp dragon and "the most repulsive creature to call the Doom Swamp its home, its stench alone pollutes the air, and its slime corrupts the waters to expand its swampy domain" and it doesn't even care about you. It sees you and is just chill. Lies down to groom its slime-scales. You get to just walk past it.

The incongruity is never pointed out.

[beneaththebloodylake]

ive been reading too much ace attorney fanfic and its sort of pissing me off, apparently im a bit of a snob. if i had more time id be very tempted to write a case fic which goes uncharacteristically into legal details and technical stuff, but make it actually accurrate to the correct system

[exopelagic]

List of my curses:

• Cassandra

• straight boys keep happening to me

[sznmjun]

I love the digitcg would love to play it sometime

[todayisafridaynight]

if i start crying looking at the super groupies collab pieces no im fucking not

[yosh-iro]

i now have both a costco card and a credit card like a proper adult :)

[ofbatsandballads]

kindness you can’t afford

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds

a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.

divider credit: cafekitsune

Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.

Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.

You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.

But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.

The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.

So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.

You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.

He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.

You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.

It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.

What the fuck did I do?

That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.

The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.

“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.

Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.

“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.

“Doesn’t answer the question.”

The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.

“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.

The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.

“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.

“Don’t need it,” he snaps.

“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.

You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.

“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.

He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.

You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.

“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.

“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.

“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.

“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.

“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”

The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.

“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.

Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.

“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.

The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.

“Well, close enough.”

Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.

“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”

A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.

“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.

He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.

“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.

And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.

You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.

You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.

Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌟Blessings Rolling In throughout 2025 ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Labyrinthia: When a government begins to falter, its people descend to pitiful depths… Perhaps this is what the fall of a nation looks like from ground level.

Clarissa: They’re as much victim as anyone else… Victims of the twisted chaos in this kingdom…

— conversation after defeating a band of bandits at Fallen Fowl Swamp; Wild Arms XF

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

The whole world right now, apparently, is going through a massive Dark Nights of the Soul. It is apocalyptic for a lot of people…but… It is ideal. The Apocalypse essentially denotes the end times for the ruling class ha ha and indicates a new era of liberation for Mankind. Well, in reality it's a bit more complicated than that...but let this perspective suffice for the time being. Normal peeps shouldn’t fear the end times, but uhm, not—not saying this with a religious spirit🙃

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Charlton: Force can destroy a nation, but it doesn’t make building one any easier, much less maintaining order once it’s built.

Rupert: Is that so?

Charlton: It is the ability of the princess mediums to connect with the Guardians that keeps Elesius stable and strong. The very existence of that power sends an unmistakable message to the people about who is the ruler, and who is being ruled. Clear stratification based on one’s inherited gifts is a tradition that has preserved Elesius since the time of our forefathers.

Edna: But now that system is breaking down.

— conversation about the importance of princess mediums (pssst High Priestesses) of the Kingdom of Elesius; Wild Arms XF

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

An Apocalypse is happening for the ruling class, but unfortunately—and hopefully soon enough you understand this—such a destruction is just the very thing they want to happen; all so they can build anew upon the ashes of the deconstructed establishment. In reality, it’s an ugly Hyper Game of which rules most peeps can’t even begin to comprehend.

But then…if the normal peeps are losing either way, what’s the Game Plan? Is there even one? There is something you can try to comprehend for the time being: to make apolitical of every decision you make in this world.

The problem with Gen Z (Sagittarius Pluto generation, which is 9th House aenergy, which is the House of Philosophical Foundations for Politics) and every other wokist from every generation, is that you make politic of every single thing that you do or think. You think it's the right thing to be this much politically awake in today's world, but with most people's level of exposure (or lack thereof) to real truths of Mankind's history... this is actually how you become a most effective generative pawn to the ruling class.

What if the most effective way to ‘dissolve the Matrix’ is to ignore its social engineering? ha ha

This year, what if you chose to live fully in your own Zero Point Awareness? From a plane of consciousness that feels most natural to you, when you're most in your element, true heartfelt Creation begins. Before you can save somebody else, you gotta make sure your bed is comfy and all the time tidy. Let the blessings roll up like tidal waves to pamper you this year, babe. You've survived too much all on your own~♦︎

This year, it's about YOU~\`★_★`/ Commence the personal miracle~!!

mind barricade: Apocalyptic Survivor Subliminal by DrVirtual7

evolution: Your Consciousness Can CHANGE Your Genetics by Dr Bruce Lipton

deck-bottom: I The Magician, Silver Astrologer (John Dee), Priestess of Success

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Prosperity Abound, Beauty All Around

field: ★Green Aventurine Frequency★(Luck, Money, Wealth, Joy, Good Fortune, Abundance) by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – V The Hierophant

First of all, do you have a strong Saturnian/Capricorn placement? Or maybe you’re right in the middle of a Saturn Return period upon reading this? Or, it could be that you’re freshly out of a heartbreaking, bone breaking Saturn Return moment that almost killed you! Yeah, whichever the case, with The Hierophant being here, and it being a major arcana, know that whatever hardship is or has transpired in your Life was sorta…designed that way to strengthen the foundation of your incarnation this time.

It's because you have a massive, very important mission with your incarnation—what with having two major arcana back-to-back. You, are, intended to be very powerful and abundant in this lifetime. Some of you reading this are probably on your way to becoming some kind of a public figure. It could be anything, really. Influencer or thought leader or celebrity of some sort. You’ve known it since you were a wee kid that you were meant for something much, much, much bigger than the mundane Reality you were born into~♪

And when you consider that, maybe, just maybe, your path was that much harder, that much more restricted, because the Universe needed to test your innate goodness—whether or not you’d fall victim to the world’s greed and evil whatsoever. But you being YOU~ My gosh, you proved yourself, didn’t you? That in spite of everything, you’ve remained pure of heart and intent. I see you’ve devoted so much of yourself to the service of Love and Light. You know you were put here to make the world a better place with whatever natural talents you were bestowed with~ \`★_★`/

lights of intent – III The Empress

And so, what’s next? What’s in store this year for all of you powerful Souls in the world? If you’ve been around, maybe you’ve heard or read other readers say: ‘You’ve shifted paradigm!’ Or something along the lines of: ‘You’ve jumped timelines!’ Yes, all of this is very much true for you! I get this feeling that you may have felt ‘different’ in the sense that your manifestations are trickling in more effortlessly. The way that you work; the way that you walk; the way that you engage in your day-to-day tasks; even the way that you breathe and how your body feels…somehow everything is more aligned, effortless, and you feel safe.

You have manifested a world of your own design, babe~ All this time, all these painful years, you were building a world of your own ideal, brick by brick, with what little guidance you heard from your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides. Within your Team and Crew are your Cosmic Ancestors who are making sure that none of that devotion goes to waste. You have to have your abundance and happy ending lest it beats the purpose of you being born. Got it~? Where your abundance and financial security are concerned, this quote sums it best for you this year:

‘I know why most people never get rich. They put the money ahead of the job. If you just think of the job, the money will automatically follow. This never fails.’ – Hedy La Marr

Your greatest blessing this year, if we could sum it up with this major arcana, is the freedom to engage in whatever creative pursuit is aligned with your Highest Intended Destiny. With The Hierophant accompanying this Pile, I’m sure you’re amongst those who’ve worked for a very long time for the manifestation of this great blessing. With that said, know with every single cell of your body that you deserve the peace and ease you’ll be swimming in this year~★

Highest Intended Action – 7 of Pentacles

I know that you know in your heart of hearts that this calm period is at best temporary—and that’s exactly why it’s exciting~☆ Where you are right now upon finding this reading, you’re already this wee close to a BIGGER manifestation what will propel you into the spotlight (do you see the lights shining upon this man in the card?) and with that, some rest period is needed just because you DESERVE it!! Do you have any idea the load of your spiritual work that’s given birth to this new timeline for a chunk of Mankind? I don’t even think you give yourself enough credit, boo!♥︎

This year, you’re being prepared for a call or an opportunity that could be classified as your main Soul Mission—if there ever was such a thing ha ha Souls usually carry a multitude of missions with their incarnations, especially the very, very advanced Souls. But anyway~

Of all the piles, this one is the most varied in terms of what kinds of blessings are rolling in for you. This is because your blessings are highly individually specific to the spiritual work you’ve done on your terms. What’s certain though, is that an element of destined orchestration is huge at play for you. So that’s literally saying that there’s practically nothing you need to do at this point in your Life. All that’s left for you to do is enjoy your peace, abundance and creativity~\`★_★`/

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻❤️

catching the Future Express – Green Magus (John Dee)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Contemplation

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – All Shackles Dissolved, an Uncontrollable Revenge Glow-Up!

field: ★"The Elite" Mind Control Detox★ 264.377 GHz + 439.3920 MHz + 1111Hz + 139.6Hz by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – Ace of Pentacles

Ow yeah, baby~! Of all the piles, yours indicates the strongest a real physical glow-up~★~ This could be in the form of a beauty glow-up, but for many of you it also involves financial/career glow-up, house/apartment glow-up, country/city glow-up, and many other forms of real-living improvements that I feel you’ve been manifesting for quite a while! Honestly, you’ve worked so hard on this, practically all by yourself, with a tonne of shadow work!

Some of you probably resonate with having ghosted so many people so as not to get distracted by their low-quality frequencies and opinions. You hustled in secret, and you hustled motherfuckingly hard. Your health—mental and physical—is returning and improving this year! That’s the number one blessing you’re totally receiving this 2025~\`★_★`/

I’m hearing: when your finances and living situations get better, it would be wise to start ‘investing’ in higher-quality produce and eat cleanly and healthily. What is healthy for you may differ from the common narrative, so you may need to R&D yourself the ‘healthy dietary habits’ that work for you by reading and learning a lot! Naturally, as your diet gets cleaner and ‘healthier’ for you, it’s only a given that your physical beauty and energy improve as well. Babe, that’s just logic~😉

lights of intent – XV The Devil

If this is your main pile and you resonate with having struggled with health in some way—be it mental, physical, emotional or spiritual or all at once—this would do you good to acknowledge that some bad spells had been sent your way by some demonic entities. I really mean demonic as in the intents—the negative thought forms—were so bad, so evil, they sought to (possibly) even murder you.

This could’ve been done by an ex-lover, ex-fake ass friend, even relatives and ‘family’ members. Yeah, we don’t call those ‘family’ in this household but you know what rings true for you~♦︎ There’s also a possibility of an envious ex-worker or even…some of you will know this for yourself if this is your message…you could’ve been specifically targeted by some negatively-polarised e.l.i.t.e groups, yeah? Whichever the case may be for you, this year is all about a much deeper purging of the layers of negative effects from all this karmic trauma bullshit.

You’re guided to further separate your Reality from those who’d burn in the 3D-hell version of Earth, aight? Closing karmic cycles comes in…cycles LOL I feel that so much of your karmic burden wasn’t even yours to begin with. But your Soul may simply have volunteered to be born under such circumstances to end all forms of curses and break bloodline chains for many Humans in this world. It is a great, noble sacrifice, so your Cosmic Ancestors would like you to acknowledge that~!

Highest Intended Action – 6 of Cups Rx

You may want to check out other piles or readings on this blog if you want to truly get a sense of what kinds of ‘blessing’ or ‘action’ are available to you at the time you’re reading this, but for the most part, if this is your main pile, I’m getting the sense that you’re being guided more towards protection and the shedding of past karmic ties before you can even jump to your next chapter of Life~\`★_★`/

Any possession that you’ve had for a long time, if it doesn’t aenergetically feel good anymore to be wearing/using it, get rid of it. We’re Kondo Marie-ing shit in this household this year! Where it’s possible, get rid of old things that have some emotional or karmic ties to your Old Reality—they have no place in your superfluously abundant future, OK? If the items/gadgets are still good enough to be used by someone else, try this ‘burning ritual’ so you don’t accidentally pass on negative aenergy to the next recipient:

Imagine the item(s) burning in Violet Flame and make a clear intent to never have any connection to any past person or place tied to that item(s). If you’re burning a memory or a place, burn that motherfucking bridge, burn the whole city or house in your mind’s eye. This way, you will never be pulled to that bandwidth of Reality anymore~♥︎ Honestly, you can do whichever ‘cleansing ritual’ you know of that works for you—the intent is the KEY~★

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻💚

catching the Future Express – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Ritual

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – They All Knew You’d be This Big, That’s Why They Cursed

field: ★Leadership Gene rs4950★ [Advanced Genetics] by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – XIX The Sun

When I tap into your aenergy, there’s this notion that dings clearest as a crystal: Child of Light~★ You are an Ancient Soul with immaculate purity and massive powers. Many individuals within your ‘family unit’ knew of this since your birth. Maybe there were unusual—cursed or miraculous—happenings and events surrounding your birth. Immediately, you already had opps since you were practically a wee baby. There were individuals who saw your ancientness and instantly felt threatened by your immense wisdom.

It could be that the ‘family unit’ you were born into dabbled in black magick or some underground criminal shit of sort, and they knew that one day, one way or another, you were going to discover and uncover their bullshit—effectively disintegrating their entire ‘empire’ made of pure manure. There’s some dark shit in that sick family unit like maybe there was an ancestor who went mad or there was somebody who was a serial killer or a drug dealer, what have you. The aenergy not only is bleak but incredibly dark and evil.

It's unbelievable that a Soul as pure as you would sacrifice your Light by integrating into a bloodline like this tsk tsk… Are you a Blue Ray Starseed? he he you could be. Anyway, some fucks within that insane family unit knew that one day, a power—and beauty, and intelligence, and purity—as witnessed exuded by you would make you VERY big and important on a community scale, even world scale. They hated that. They wanted that for themselves ugh…

lights of intent – King of Wands Rx

Do you daydream a lot, luv? If you feel that you often drown in fantasies, like excessively to a point where you find it hard to even cope with physical Reality, I’d like you to understand that it’s only an effect of never truly living a Life of your ideals. Your Heart is yearning to dwell in the Higher Timeline you know deep, deep down you’re meant to traverse along~♦︎ And yes, you’re absolutely capable of living the life you can’t stop thinking about. Aaand…that’s where your opps came in, right?

Not sure if you’re aware of this yourself at this point in time but all of the passion and intelligence that you are, those are the very things they never wanted you to nourish. But goddam, silly them—they underestimated your sheer willpower! Your opps are insanely illogical; as much as they wanted your power for themselves, they didn’t want you to ever realise your true potential. It’s such petty envy, all things considered. But hey, all of this is in the past if you’re tuning into this aenergy as your main pile~★

You’ve uprooted yourself from that false Reality where your Light wasn’t loved. But you were just doing your Lightwork there akin to training at a military camp. And you survived, goddamn hoe, you’re a Dark Feminine Goddess. This year, or whenever you find this reading, you’re fully grown and ready for your greatest Soul Purpose for being born at this passage of time~ Know that this whole blueprint was created by not only your Higher Self but also all of the Cosmic Ancestors who wanted to bring down this dark bloodline. In the grand scheme of everything, hoe is you da VIRUS within their System LMAO

Highest Intended Action – 10 of Cups Rx

The family unit you were part of, whether you were born or brought into it, operates like a cult. This is an entirely ‘insane family unit’—yes, it’s a thing. I see feminine figures akin to the members of Bene Gesserit from DUNE. These were most likely femcel mothers, aunts or grandmas that were operating like cult leaders. Before we continue, try to understand that we’re talking about ‘femcel psychology’ from a sociology perspective, which can be an entirely different discussion from ‘girls that ain’t getting laid’ XD

Check out Exoticals United on YouTube to learn valuable gems of societal observations~\`★_★`/

Anyway, these dusty ass femcel fucks loved power with a sick mind and when they saw your birth, they couldn’t stand the potential of THE FUTURE LEADER THAT YOU ARE DESTINED TO BECOME. They saw and knew that when you grow up, you’d have the natural talent to attract a large audience—babe, if this is your main pile, I KNOW you’re gorgeous for daaays~♥︎ The way you attract attention by your natural beauty and sweetness, my gosh, they sought to destroy that very thing which they covet: people’s admiration!

It was apparent to them since your birth or at least from when your puberty started, that your greatness comes from the ‘other side’ of the bloodline. By that alone, they knew they could never be what your Ancestors were preparing you to become. Your superior DNA from the ‘other side’ appeared like bright wings from heavens which they knew would overshadow their ‘cult-like’ influences on everything good and harmonious which they sought to destroy!

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻💙

catching the Future Express – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter six ♡

Summary: Going through a hangover, two knocks surprise your door. Travis asks you to be honest, and Joel tries to get closer again. WC: 12.8k A/N: Well… today I'm feeling things. I hope you like it <3 remember that I no longer use the tag list, and if you want to receive notifications you can activate them on this blog or on capuccinodollupdates. Thank you very much for your messages and comments!!!!! Love youuuu

You lay sprawled on your bed, the warmth of the shower still clinging to your skin, your body humming faintly from the ibuprofen you’d taken an hour ago. When you’d woken up, sunlight had pierced directly through the blinds, straight into your eyes, splitting your head with a sharp, immediate ache. The kind of morning that felt punitive, though you weren’t sure what you were being punished for. But the water had helped. It always did. Steam rising, muscles softening, your skin flushed pink in its aftermath—a small gift you didn’t know you’d needed until now.

Sliding into your softest pajama pants and a faded gray cotton T-shirt oversized enough to drown in, you caught sight of the corset lying next to your boots. Something twisted low in your stomach. A reminder.

You remembered it as soon as you’d blinked awake: Joel. Joel in your bed. Silence wrapping around you both like a second, unspoken language. You’d cried, hadn’t you? Said something reckless, something that burned on the way out but didn’t feel entirely true. His face swam back to you in bits: the wet sheen in his eyes, the way he’d hugged you, close enough to steal your breath. And your words—you’d told him you hated him. That much was clear. You didn't hate him, he knew that. The feeling was raw and slippery, hard to hold. Surely Joel knew. He was always the first to claim he understood these things, always insufferably sure of himself.

Your gaze stayed fixed on the wall, though your mind wandered to Travis and then boomeranged right back to Joel, replaying the fragments of memory you had like they were clues in a puzzle you couldn’t solve. It was exhausting. You were exhausted. Eventually, you shut your eyes, not sleeping, but not entirely awake either, your body loosening as the pain ebbed and flowed. Your feet still throbbed, but even that felt distant, manageable.

Then the doorbell rang. The sound sliced through the quiet and dragged you back to the surface. You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to summon the energy to move. With a sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, sliding your feet into slippers, and shuffled toward the stairs. Halfway down, you froze, heart stuttering in your chest. What if it was Joel? It made sense—too much sense, actually. Except, what if it didn’t? What if he wasn’t here to fix things but to remind you of everything you’d said and did last night? What if he wasn’t here at all, and the thought of him was worse than his presence?

You didn’t have the stamina for him today.

Still, you kept moving, your stomach coiled tight as you reached for the door. When you opened it, relief swept over you like a breeze. Travis stood there, eyes a little puffy, a wooden paper bag with Mcfly’s stamped across the front dangling from his hands. The smell—greasy, rich, tempting—hit you first. He smiled, sheepish, his fingers curling around the bag like an offering.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm.

You laughed softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Hey. You look awful.”

“Thanks,” he teased, his grin widening. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Hungry, apparently,” you replied, following him into the kitchen. “What about you? Any lingering regrets?”

“Only a thousand.” He set the bag on the counter and turned to you, his expression playfully contrite. “Throwing up dressed as Patrick Bateman was not on my bingo card.”

“Your puke was blue,” you reminded him, unable to suppress your laugh.

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “God, stop. Please accept my apology in the form of food.”

You pulled the containers from the bag, grinning as the smell intensified. “Apology accepted. But seriously, Travis, it happens to everyone. Though I’d say chugging a Blue Elephant probably increases your odds.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you, his smile softening. “Lesson learned. Never again.”

The two of you settled at the kitchen island, the plates piled high with burgers that felt almost comically indulgent—brioche buns, bacon, fried eggs, stacked patties. Fries on the side. It was exactly what you needed, and the silence between you was easy, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery and the occasional laugh.

At some point, you noticed Travis watching you, his gaze a little too focused, a little too heavy. It sent a ripple of awareness through you, and you set your fork down, your cheeks flushing before you could stop them.

“I had a great time last night,” he said suddenly, his fingers tracing the rim of his plate. “Even with the, uh, puke thing. I hope we can…you know, pick up where we left off.”

Your heart skipped. He said it so casually, like he was talking about resuming a TV show or a book he’d put down. But you knew what he meant. His hands on your thighs, his breath hot against your neck—the near miss. You smiled, leaning into the moment.

“I’d like that,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “I have a great time with you, Travis. It feels…easy.”

“I hope that’s a compliment,” he teased, his eyes glinting.

“It is,” you assured him.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the doorbell rang again, cutting him off. You sighed, pushing back from the stool.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, and he nodded, standing as well.

“Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Go ahead. It’s under the stairs,” you told him, already heading for the door.

When you opened it, the air shifted. Joel stood there, your name falling from his lips like a quiet invocation. Your heart stuttered. His eyes locked on yours. 

Joel stood in front of you, his posture deceptively calm, but his eyes betrayed him. They searched your face intently, as if trying to unearth some hidden answer you weren’t sure you even held. His voice, when he finally spoke, was steady but tinged with uncertainty. 

“I, um... How are you?” 

The words fell between you, simple enough, but they seemed to carry more weight than the situation demanded. You blinked, your response escaping almost before you registered it. 

“Fine.” Automatic. A placeholder for the more complicated truth swirling inside you. 

He nodded, his expression softening slightly, though his gaze never left yours. “I wanted to check on you. After last night, I mean. And... I thought maybe we could talk for a moment. If you’re up for it.” 

The now-familiar tingle unfurled in your stomach, subtle but insistent. It was Joel’s effect on you, one you could neither anticipate nor ignore. His presence always seemed to trigger some deep, cellular reaction, your body responding to him before your mind had the chance to catch up. 

You let your eyes wander over him, taking him in as if cataloging the moment: the disheveled state of his hair, the small strands poking out stubbornly at the crown of his head; the quiet intensity in his dark, swollen eyes, the kind that told you sleep hadn’t come easy. His sweater was black, soft-looking, and fit just snug enough across his shoulders. Below that, dark pants and boots that carried a scuffed sort of permanence.

He didn’t flinch under your gaze. He rarely did. 

“Sure,” you said finally, fighting to keep your voice steady. “I mean... yeah. I feel better now.” 

His brow lifted, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a crooked half-smile that felt almost involuntary. “Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” The tension between you felt oddly fragile, as though one wrong word could snap it altogether. 

“Good,” he said, his voice soft, almost to himself. “Uh, so...when you’re ready, we can talk. Doesn’t have to be now.” 

“No,” you interrupted quickly, sensing his sudden retreat. “I want to. Just—not sure now’s the best time.” 

His eyes flickered, something like relief washing over his features. “Okay. Whenever works for you. Just let me know.” 

There was something in the way he spoke that made you pause—a quiet hesitance, almost submissive, so unlike Joel that it left you momentarily off-balance. Before you could respond, the sound of a door opening and closing under the stairs interrupted the fragile moment between you. 

Joel’s gaze darted past you, his body stiffening. “I should get going. Need to see Tommy,” he said abruptly, his words coming faster now, as if the interruption had jolted him. “But I’ll be back before five. If you’re okay with that.” 

“I’ll text you,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. 

Joel nodded once, and for a moment, his eyes softened again, lingering on you like he wanted to say more. But the sound of footsteps drew both your attention, and you turned just in time to see Travis approaching from the hall. 

“Hi, Joel,” Travis said, his voice light and oblivious. “How’s it going?” 

Joel’s demeanor shifted instantly, his polite but clipped reply sharp in contrast to the way he’d been speaking to you moments ago. “Fine. And you... regaining energy, I see.”

“That's right,” Travis nodded, a pleasant pout on his lips. “Never drink more than one blue elephant, trust me,” he teased.

Joel’s laugh was hollow, a noise that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not on my agenda last time I checked.” 

The tension was palpable now, thickening the air. Though you were sure the tightening thread was solely between you and Joel, and Travis had only moved in to tighten it even more. Joel’s gaze flickered to you briefly, searching your face, you looking at him almost as if silently imploring him not to say anything offensive. But he didn't seem to want to bother Travis at that moment, which surprised you a little.

“Call me later,” he said to you, his tone softening again but only for you. “Whenever works.” 

“I will,” you promised, the words coming easily, though the knot in your stomach tightened as you watched Joel take a few steps back. He hesitated for only a second before turning and walking briskly to his truck. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed faintly as you closed your own door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

When you turned back, Travis was still standing there, his expression curious but unreadable. He didn’t say anything, though, as you brushed past him and returned to the kitchen, dropping back into your seat and taking a long sip of soda. 

Travis joined you a moment later, resuming his seat across from you. He picked up his burger but didn’t take a bite right away, his fingers idly picking at the edges of the bun. His silence stretched, pressing against you, until finally, he spoke. 

“So,” he began carefully, his tone light but probing, “how’s everything with Joel?” 

The question caught you off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. You forced yourself to look at him, your expression neutral. 

“We haven’t really figured things out,” you admitted, keeping your tone casual. "If that's what you're asking."

Travis nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. “I thought as much,” he said, setting his burger down. “Saw him the other day at the supermarket. Didn’t say hi—he looked...busy.” 

You offered him a small, noncommittal shrug, hoping he’d let the subject drop. But instead, his gaze lingered on you, studying you the way Joel had earlier. 

“Can I ask you something?” Travis said, his voice softer now. "And please be honest." 

You didn’t blink, your body stilling in response to the deliberate softness in Travis’s voice. It wasn’t the kind of soft that soothed; it was careful, as if he was trying to handle something fragile without breaking it.

“Sure,” you said, your voice neutral despite the curiosity growing inside you. “What is it?”

“Listen, please don’t think I’m prying.” His tone wavered, brushing up against nervousness.

“I won’t, Trav,” you said, laughing lightly, though the sudden weight of his seriousness made the moment feel unbalanced.

“Okay.” He smiled, the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. It reminded you of a kid caught holding something he shouldn’t but deciding to risk it anyway. “So, ever since I moved into the neighborhood, I noticed you and Joel were... close. At first, I thought you were together. Ian even confirmed that you were just friends, but for a while, I didn’t quite believe it. Then Helena told me the same; you were just friends.”

Your attention sharpened around his words, each one striking a chord of unease.

“And I thought that was good for me, you know?” he continued, leaning back slightly, his nervous hands fidgeting with the edge of his glass. “Because I liked you. Even back then. But then, Joel came over one day while I was working on the yard—offered to help me out. He was nice, friendly even.”

“Oh,” you murmured, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Your voice sounded far away to your own ears. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Travis said, shifting in his seat. “I told him I was almost done, didn’t really need help. But I thought, why not? So I said he could help me with something else.”

There was a pause. His gaze faltered, dropping to his hands. He clicked his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment as though bracing himself.

“And then I said something stupid.”

“What did you say?” The question tumbled out, your curiosity escaping before you could temper it. You couldn’t recall Joel ever being nice to Travis. If anything, his attitude toward him bordered on dismissive, sometimes outright cold.

“I, uh...” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told him he could help me with you.”

Your lips parted slightly, your expression betraying your surprise, but you didn’t interrupt him.

“I said something like... if he wasn’t careful, I might steal you from him forever,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing deeply. “You know, like a dumb joke.”

The breath you’d been holding slipped out in a shaky laugh. “You said what?”

“I know, okay? It was stupid.” He grimaced, glancing away. “His whole attitude shifted. He got... intense. Asked if I thought you were some kind of object. Said I was an idiot for underestimating you like that.” Travis’s voice softened, tinged with embarrassment. “I apologized right away, told him I didn’t mean it seriously. But he just turned and walked off.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds like Joel,” you muttered, a hint of amusement slipping into your tone despite yourself.

Travis, however, didn’t seem amused. He sighed, dragging his hand over his face.

“Yeah. And ever since then, he’s been... I don’t know. Dismissive. Like I don’t exist. And at first, I figured I deserved it—I was out of line. But after a while, I started to think... maybe there’s more to it. Something I don’t know about.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your face neutral. Still, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze felt heavier now, like he was peeling back layers, trying to uncover something buried.

“And when we started seeing each other, I thought maybe it didn’t matter,” he continued. “You told me you and Joel had argued, and that’s why things were strained. I believed you. But when I see the way you two act around each other...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s just... obvious. Too obvious. I’m sorry, but I have to ask—” His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching. “Did something happen between you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. Your heart raced, each beat loud and insistent in your ears. You felt pinned in place, his gaze pressing against your silence like a weight you couldn’t lift.

“Travis...” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

His expression shifted, softening, but not in a way that let you off the hook. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “It’s okay. Just... be honest.”

You liked Travis. You liked how steady he was, how easy it felt to be around him. And it hurt to realize he’d been carrying this doubt, this unspoken question, all this time. But his words also unraveled something inside you—a confession that finally made sense of Joel’s behavior. The teasing, the frustration, the way he reacted whenever Travis came up in conversation. Joel’s coldness toward him had been about you all along.

“Yes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The single word carried a weight that settled between you, unavoidable. “A couple of weeks ago.”

The flicker of hope in his eyes extinguished, replaced by something quieter. Not anger, but something like disappointment. A quiet hurt he tried to hide but couldn’t entirely mask.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice steady, though you could hear the tension beneath it.

You hesitated. For a moment, you wanted to lie, to downplay the truth for his sake, for your own. But Travis had been honest with you from the start, and he deserved the same in return.

“We slept together,” you said finally, the words leaving your mouth like a weight dropping. “It was... a mistake. On his own words, that’s what he said.”

“He said it was a mistake?”

“Yeah.” The word felt colder this time, sharper.

Travis didn’t say anything for a long moment. He only nodded, as if piecing something together silently. And though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the shift in the air between you was undeniable.

“Then why did you fight?” Travis’s voice was steady but probing, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “Was it because you slept together, or because he said it was a mistake?”

Your breath hitched. The question landed somewhere deep, stirring thoughts you’d been desperately trying to suppress. There was something in his tone—a clarity that felt unbearable, like a light shining on all the truths you weren’t ready to confront.

“Is there a difference?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended. It was a feeble attempt at deflection, one that neither of you believed.

Travis let out a soft sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—fragile and fleeting.

“I’m afraid there is,” he said simply. “Because if the fight was about him thinking it was a mistake... that means you don’t think it was.”

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly, shaking your head as if the physical act could erase the implication. “No, that’s not it.” But the words felt hollow, a lie that echoed between you both. “Do you want to know why we fought? It wasn’t about that. It’s because he was cruel to me. That night, before anything even happened, he treated me like I was insane—like I was jealous of the woman he’s dating. And afterward...” You swallowed hard, your voice faltering. “Afterward, he acted like it disgusted him to be with me.”

Travis’s expression shifted, his eyes slightly wider now, but he didn’t interrupt. You could feel tears building, threatening to spill, but you pushed forward, the words pouring out faster than you could stop them.

“He’s been awful to me, Travis. Every chance he gets, he finds a way to provoke me, to make me feel small. Even to you—he’s been horrible to you, and it’s... it’s complete bullshit.” Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily, wiping at your eyes. “Because he was my best friend. For years. And it’s hard for me to accept that someone I respected so much doesn’t respect me back. That’s what happened. That’s why everything’s so strange now.”

Travis nodded slowly, still quiet, his gaze steady but unreadable. You took another deep breath, your chest aching with the effort of holding it together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you added softly. “But it was... private. And when we started seeing each other, everything was so new, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to tell you.”

The silence that followed felt like a living thing, pressing down on you. Travis leaned back slightly, his fingers grazing the edge of his glass. He looked at you with an expression that made your stomach churn—gentle, but heavy with something that made you afraid.

“I know,” he said at last, his voice calm. “I know you wouldn’t keep something like that out of malice.”

“No, never,” you insisted, your voice cracking at the edges.

“But...” He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “I can’t lie to you, honey. This does affect me. And I don’t think I can pretend it doesn’t.” His honesty was like a sharp edge, cutting through whatever thin veneer of composure you’d managed to hold onto.

Your chest tightened. “Travis, I—”

He cut you off gently, raising a hand. “Listen. I like you. I really like you. You’re smart, and kind, and... easy to be around. But I don’t want to feel like I’m an obstacle in someone else’s story.”

“No,” you said, the word coming out as a rushed, desperate exhale. “You’re not. That’s not how it is. Joel and I... what happened between us was a mistake. A stupid, heat-of-the-moment thing that ruined everything we had. It’s over.”

Travis tilted his head slightly, studying you with that same quiet intensity. Then he shook his head, a soft, sad smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think Joel believes that.”

“Of course he does,” you insisted, though your voice sounded small, even to yourself. “He barely tolerates being around me now.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” His voice was calm, steady, as if he’d already thought this through. “I think Joel has... feelings for you. And I think it scares him so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. That’s why he’s defensive. That’s why he can’t stand me. That’s why he kept watching us at the barbecue like I was committing some kind of crime.”

“Travis—”

“No, just... let me finish,” he said gently, his hand brushing against yours. “I like you. I do. And I love spending time with you. But I don’t want to get caught in the middle of something I don’t understand.”

You blinked, feeling the words lodge somewhere in your throat. There was an ache now, spreading through your chest. “What... what are you saying?”

He gave you a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m saying you need to work things out with him. Figure out what’s really there—if it’s nothing, or if it’s something you just don’t want to admit yet. And once you do, if things are clear—really clear—then I’ll be here. If you want me to be.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your nearly empty plate. The lump in your throat threatened to choke you, and you fought to keep your tears from falling. If Travis noticed, he didn’t say anything.

The silence lingered for only a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice shifting to something lighter. He told you a story about one of his friends you’d met the night before, trying to fill the space between you with something less painful. You appreciated the effort, even if it only barely reached you.

Later, when you settled on the couch, he pulled up a documentary on potatoes—something about their versatility and origins. You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, as his warmth settled over you like a temporary balm. But as the documentary droned on, your attention blurred, your eyelids heavy with the weight of the night. Before you could process it, you drifted off, the quiet hum of his presence the only thing keeping you grounded.

*

When you opened your eyes, the room was still and dim, the TV screen darkened, its glow long since faded. You were stretched out on the couch, comfortably cocooned in the softness of a throw blanket that hadn’t been there earlier. You stretched lazily, a deep yawn escaping your throat, and for a brief moment, everything felt calm. You felt rested, better.

But the calm didn’t last.

The memory of your conversation with Travis resurfaced like a stone dropped into a still pond, ripples spreading out and disturbing your peace. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, your body still tingling with the remnants of an unburdened nap.

That’s when you noticed the note on the coffee table, a piece of paper folded neatly, its corners perfectly aligned. You reached for it, your fingers brushing against the edges before unfolding it.

The note was simple, in Travis’s clean, deliberate handwriting:

"I had to go home, didn’t want to wake you up; thought the rest would do you good. See you later :)."

You sighed, reading his words again and again, overanalyzing every line, every punctuation mark. Of course, he was kind, thoughtful as always. But underneath that kindness was something else—a quiet truth he’d handed you earlier like a weight too heavy to carry alone.

He was right. You couldn’t have anything honest with him if you didn’t face the mess you’d left behind with Joel. And that, of course, was even more complicated than you wanted to admit. Because you knew why.

You loved Joel.

Not just in the messy, confusing way that kept you up at night. But in all the other ways too. Joel was your best friend. Losing him had been one of the hardest things you’d endured in years, and the ache of that absence lingered like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. You missed everything about him—his dry humor, the easy rhythm of your shared days, the unspoken understanding that only years of friendship could bring.

You missed the mundane, simple things: the lunches that turned into dinners, the quiet nights spent on his couch, watching some terrible action movie he insisted was a “classic.” The lazy afternoons in his backyard, the sun catching in his hair as he hosed down his truck, grinning like a kid when he’d spray water in your direction just to hear you yell. The way he listened, the way he told you things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. The moments with Sarah—how natural it all felt, like a little pocket of family you’d carved out together.

And then it was gone. The thought of it made your chest tighten.

Your phone was on the coffee table, its screen dark until you picked it up. 4:34 p.m. The nerves in your stomach stirred again, buzzing like static beneath your skin. You stared at Joel’s name in your contacts. His number had been blocked since that Tuesday. If he’d tried to text you, you wouldn’t know.

Your thumb hovered over the unblock button, then pressed it. There. Done.

But now what?

You stared at the tiny phone icon next to his name, debating whether to call him. Your thumb twitched, but you froze. Maybe it would be better to write. Calls made you nervous—they left too much space for things to go wrong.

"Hi, Joel, I was thinking—"

No. Too vague.

"Joel, if you want, we can—"

No. Still wrong.

"Hi, can you talk—"

No, no, no.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, the phone still warm in your hand. Before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb pressed the call button. The line connected almost immediately, and then there it was—his voice, steady and familiar.

He said your name like it was a sentence.

“Hi, Joel,” you said, your voice even despite the way your heart was racing.

“D'you want me to come to your place, are you coming to mine, or should we meet somewhere else?” he asked, skipping over pleasantries entirely.

Always to the point.

“Is Sarah with you?” you asked instead, needing a moment to steady yourself.

“No. She’s with Lea.”

Lea. Right. You remembered Sarah talking about her—her new friend from soccer. Lea lived nearby with her mom and older sister, had a huge collection of video games, and a mother who baked cakes Sarah couldn’t stop raving about. But even then, Sarah had reassured you with a grin, “No one’s better at baking than you.”

She wouldn’t be back until dinner, you realized. It gave you some space, some time.

“Okay,” you said, weighing your options. You didn’t want to cry in public, and your house... well, nothing good had come from Joel being there last time. “I’ll go to your house,” you decided, bringing a hand to your forehead. “In fifteen. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his voice calm. “I’ll be here.”

You hung up without another word, the silence in your living room rushing back to meet you.

For a moment, you stood there, gripping the phone like it might steady the erratic thrum of your pulse. Your blood rushed in your ears, drowning out every other sound.

Fifteen minutes. That was all you had to pull yourself together. 

*

You rang the doorbell and swallowed hard, nerves curling tightly in your stomach. Your eyes flicked down to your body in an almost absent check. The pajamas had been swapped for something presentable but still low effort: tailored black pants that grazed your feet, a black t-shirt layered under a wool sweater of the same shade. Safe. Functional. On your feet, though, the betrayal of slippers—a detail you hadn't thought much about until now, standing on Joel’s doorstep.

Inside, heavy footsteps approached, steady and deliberate. A sharp pang of anticipation ran through you. Less time passed than you expected before the door swung open, and there he was, framed by the familiar threshold.

Joel’s dark eyes met yours, scanning over you with a quiet intensity. He hadn’t changed much from earlier—still in the same dark jeans, but his sweater was gone, replaced with a simple white t-shirt that clung to his broad frame in that way that made your throat feel tight. He smiled softly, disarmingly, like he’d been practicing this exact expression.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to make room for you.

You hesitated for half a second before crossing the threshold. The familiar scent of his home—clean laundry mingling with faint traces of coffee and wood—hit you immediately, stirring something warm in your chest. You took in the living room, unchanged since the last time you were here, though your memory painted it differently now. This house, this space, was the backdrop to so much shared history, yet it felt heavy with everything left unresolved.

You paused in the living room, your hands finding their way into your pockets. The couch sat there like a relic, the same spot you’d occupied last time taunting you with its familiarity. Sitting felt both inevitable and wrong, like stepping back into a memory you’d tried too hard to forget. You lowered yourself onto the cushion anyway, folding into the space where you used to fit so effortlessly.

“D'you want something to drink?” Joel asked, already heading toward the kitchen. “I just made coffee. Got some of that chocolate you like too.”

You nodded without thinking, your voice betraying you with a simple, “Chocolate’s fine.” It came out softer than you’d intended, like you were worried anything louder might shatter the precarious peace between you.

Joel nodded back and disappeared through the archway. You were left standing in the middle of the room, the stillness pressing in. The faint aroma of coffee curled around you as your eyes moved over the space.

The TV was on pause, the frozen frame capturing Arnold Schwarzenegger mid-glare, leather jacket gleaming under dim lighting. On the coffee table, a stack of DVDs sat next to Joel’s keys. It was all so mundane, so normal, but the weight of your own memories turned it into something else entirely.

Your gaze lingered on the spot next to you, the place where Joel had sat the last time you were here. The memory hit like a bruise being pressed, sharp and unwelcome. You could still feel the crackling tension of that night, the words that had gone unspoken, and the ache of things breaking further apart.

By the time Joel returned, balancing two mugs, you’d managed to pull yourself back to the present. He set yours on the coffee table in front of you—a perfect swirl of steam curling from its surface—before sinking into the couch beside you with his own. The proximity sent a flicker of awareness through you, unsettling but familiar.

The chocolate was perfect, sweet and rich, just as you’d remembered. You focused on the cup in your hands, grateful for something tangible to anchor you. Joel took a sip from his mug, the silence stretching between you like a taut string.

He spoke first, breaking the quiet with a voice that was both casual and loaded. “Sarah’s still mad at me.” He paused, glancing at you before adding, “Said she didn’t want to be home if I was gonna keep acting like an idiot.”

The corner of your mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “Why’s she mad?”

Joel gave you a look, his brows drawing together like he wasn’t sure if you were serious. “Because of yesterday,” he said finally. “When I wouldn’t let her talk to you.”

“Oh,” you murmured, the memory of his sharp tone from the day before resurfacing. You took another sip, letting the warm liquid settle in your chest.

Joel’s presence beside you felt larger now, like it was pressing against the edges of your awareness. It was strange, this new dynamic—this quiet discomfort with a man who had once been your safe place.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence turning awkward in a way that made you itch. Your mind churned with unspoken words, all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how to. And then, without fully realizing it, the thought slipped from your mouth:

“This is a bad idea.”

Joel’s head snapped up, his body tensing.

“No, wait,” he said quickly, setting his mug down as he reached for your hand, still curled around your cup. The warmth of his touch startled you, grounding and overwhelming all at once. “Please, don’t leave. Let’s talk. Just… talk, okay?”

The quiet desperation in his voice made you pause. You pulled your hand back, setting the cup on the table, and leaned away slightly, trying to create some distance.

“Okay,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Speak, then.”

Joel’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers fidgeting in an almost subconscious rhythm, twisting together before pulling apart, like his thoughts were straining against each other in his head. His tongue flicked out briefly to moisten his upper lip, a small, nervous habit you’d noticed but never commented on. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost too soft, but it carried weight, each word vibrating in your ears as if they’d been tailored just for you. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his words deliberate, as though he’d rehearsed them countless times but still wasn’t sure how they’d land. His eyes didn’t meet yours, staying glued to the restless movement of his fingers.

You straightened in your seat, your chest tightening, not because you didn’t know what he meant—you absolutely did—but because you needed him to say it. To finally put it out there, to stop hiding behind vague statements and unfinished thoughts.

“What, Joel?” you prompted, your voice sharper than you intended. 

His head lifted just slightly, his brow furrowed in a way that softened his expression rather than hardening it. His eyes, however, told the real story—heavy and shadowed, the exhaustion there making him look older than you’d ever allowed yourself to notice. 

“This,” he gestured vaguely between you two, his hand falling limp to his lap again, “this thing we’re doing. Acting like strangers or, worse, like seeing each other is some kind of punishment we’re both trying to avoid. I can’t stand it anymore. I hate it.”

You exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch as your arms crossed instinctively over your chest. His words stung because, on some level, they echoed your own feelings, but hearing them from him made you bristle. “I’ve never acted like that with you, Joel. Never.” Your voice was steady, clear, every syllable landing with precision. “If anything, you’re the one acting like seeing me is a nightmare you can’t wait to wake up from.”

Joel’s mouth parted as if to protest, but you didn’t give him the chance. “Like yesterday,” you continued, your tone sharpening. “Forcing Sarah into the house, shutting me out like I was the problem. Or all those times you decided to pretend I didn’t exist. How do you think that makes me feel, Joel?”

His frown deepened, but he didn’t look away. “That’s not true,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked the confidence his words suggested. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to you, you’ve shut me out. Like you couldn’t bear to be near me. I saw it in your eyes, felt it in the way you’d flinch or turn away. Like at the Hoffmans’, when you wouldn’t even look at me. And every time I spoke, I could feel your... discomfort.”

The mention of that night sent heat rising to your face, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Joel, really?” Your voice pitched slightly higher, but you forced yourself to rein it in, refusing to let him pull you into a full-blown argument—not yet. “You were so mean that night. To me, to Travis. What exactly did you expect? For me to smile and pretend like everything was fine?”

“I remember,” Joel interrupted, his voice dipping into something closer to regret. He rubbed a hand across his face, as though trying to erase the memory. “I just—” He paused, his brow furrowing further. “I just hated the way you looked at me. When I sat next to you I realized right away how uncomfortable you were with me there. I couldn’t stand it.”

You let out a long, slow breath, rubbing your temple as you tried to keep your own frustration from boiling over. “What did you expect me to feel, Joel? Our last conversation didn’t exactly leave me eager to see you again. Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d show up.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding genuinely baffled. “I never miss the Hoffmans’ barbecues.”

That made you laugh, a short, humorless sound. “You hate those barbecues. You’ve said it a hundred times—the music, the noise, the neighbors gossiping. You only ever went because of us, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch and dropping his hands onto his thighs. His gaze drifted to some fixed point ahead of him, like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah,” he admitted after a long pause. “And I wasn’t lying; I went because I knew you’d be there.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t respond. You stared at him, searching his face for some sign that he was joking, but he wasn’t. A small, bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, your voice laced with disbelief. “You attended for me but spent the whole night treating me like dirt. And let’s not forget hooking up with Clara Pierce.”

Joel’s face flushed immediately, a faint pink creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks. He looked down at his hands again, his fingers still fidgeting, but now with a new kind of nervous energy.

“I didn’t hook up with her,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the charged air between you. His gaze lifted to meet yours, earnest and unflinching. “I didn’t. I just walked her home.”

"Yeah, right." You snorted, crossing your arms again. “Do you really think I’m that gullible?”

“I’m not lying,” he insisted, leaning toward you. “I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t even wanted to be around her. I just needed an excuse to get out of there. So I walked her home and I told her to stop... you know, whatever she thought she was doing with me. You can ask her, and she'll probably tell you I'm an asshole.”

There was something in his tone, a rawness that made you pause. He wasn’t lying—you could see it in his eyes. But the relief you felt was quickly overshadowed by anger.

“You knew she liked you, Joel. And you let her think she had a chance. Why? Did you even consider it for a second?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words.

Joel exhaled deeply, his gaze roaming over your face like he was reading a language he used to know fluently but now struggled to understand. The irritation etched into your features mirrored his own; it was like looking into a cracked reflection. His shoulders sagged slightly as if weighed down by his own thoughts.

“No,” he said finally, the word flat, almost lifeless. “I don’t like her. I don’t like the way she talks to me, the way she... carries herself around me. And no, I don’t like the way I acted that night either. I know I was out of line. But I wanted to talk to you, and Travis wouldn’t—” He stopped, shaking his head, his frustration palpable. “He wouldn’t let go of you. And when I finally did talk to you, I screwed it all up again. I know that. I hate it, but it’s the truth. I was pissed off and fed up.”

You straightened your spine, your body tense, arms stiff at your sides. “What did you even want to talk to me about, Joel?” you asked, your voice sharp now, cutting through the air between you. “What for? If every time we talk, all you succeed in doing is making me feel worse?”

He blinked slowly, the weight of your words visibly landing on him. His dark eyes drifted over your face, heavy with something that resembled anguish. His hands rested in his lap, fingers clasped tightly together, his thumbs rubbing small, compulsive circles against each other. When he spoke again, his voice was unsteady, barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his head lowering until his eyes were focused somewhere around your feet. “I try to psych myself up to apologize to you. But every time I see you, I can’t think straight. It’s like my brain short-circuits. I get defensive, I think, whenever I see you looking... happy.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Happy with him. You look like you’re doing just fine, and I think, what the fuck am I doing? Why am I here? Clearly, you don’t feel as shitty as I do. And then I get angry. I hate how easy it seems for you. How simple it is for you to move on, like my absence doesn’t even register. And that’s what I can’t handle, because that’s not how it is for me. Not at all.”

His gaze lifted to meet yours, and the intensity in his eyes was like a physical touch, hot and almost unbearable. “It’s not my case at all,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Not a single day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Do you have any idea how empty this house feels without you? How empty my life feels?”

Your lips parted, the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue faltering under the weight of his words.

“Joel—” you began, but he cut you off, his body leaning toward you, one hand lifting as if to physically hold your words at bay.

“No, I’m serious,” he said, his voice firm now, the rawness in it making your chest tighten. “It’s pathetic, how much it affects me. And it’s exactly what I was afraid of, you know? That we’d cross that line, and everything would go to shit. And now—”

“Is the thought of that night really so unbearable for you, Joel?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but still strong enough to slice through his stormy rambling. You leaned in slightly, your posture rigid, your gaze locked on him. The question caught him off guard; his breath seemed to hitch, his eyes widening. “Because it feels like you can’t even stand it. Like the idea of touching me—of having touched me—is some stain you can’t wash off. Like I was a nasty trap you fell into by mistake, like you needed an acid bath to clean off my handprint. Just a moment of weakness.”

He froze, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. The sunlight streaming through the window behind him illuminated the back of his neck, the soft curls there catching the light like strands of gold. His skin looking golden as honey, dark eyes safe in shadow against the illumination. You could almost swear he wasn't breathing.

“Yes, it is” he said at last, his voice quiet and careful. “But not for the reason you think. I hated how I acted. I hated how I treated you. I was impulsive and cruel, and that’s not how it should’ve been between us. That’s not how we should’ve been.”

You frowned, the confusion and annoyance sharpening your gaze.

“You always think you know how everything should go, don’t you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “You map it all out in your head—the beginning, the middle, the end—and when it doesn’t go your way, you act like the world’s against you. Don’t you get tired of trying to control everything, Joel?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. You leaned back, shaking your head softly.

“You’re impulsive. You’ve always been impulsive," you continued. "That night, at the barbecue, even yesterday. And somehow, you always manage to drag me down with you.”

“Stop it,” he said suddenly, his voice low and firm. He sat up straighter, his broad frame casting a shadow over you as he loomed closer. “You want to know what bothers me? That you act like I forced you into all of this. Like I made you do something you didn’t want to do. Yes, we slept together. I know I messed up afterward, but I didn’t manipulate you into it, and you know it.”

His voice softened but remained steady, each word deliberate. “I asked you, I asked you right before it, don't you remember? Tell me to stop,” he paraphrased, his thick voice sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to stop?. No, you said.”

You remembered, of course. The moment was burned into your memory, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. His voice had been thick with urgency, his body trembling against yours. Tell me to stop, he’d said, his breath hot against your skin, your body pressed against the wall.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

Joel’s voice was laced with something raw, an edge of frustration barely concealed. “Then why does it feel like every time we talk, you act like all of this is something I forced you into?” His words hit the air with force, each syllable sharpening the distance between you. “Like I’m the villain in your story. Like seeing me or even talking to me is some kind of punishment. You made that pretty clear at the barbecue.”

You watched him, your chest tightening in that way it always did when his anger met your own. It was ironic, wasn’t it? How he felt like you were the one dragging him down when you’d spent months drowning under the weight of him. You shook your head slowly, a faint, bitter smile curling on your lips.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm.

Joel blinked, the sharpness of his expression softening into confusion. His brows relaxed, his shoulders losing some of their tension. He looked at you like he was waiting for something, like you were about to reveal a crucial piece of the puzzle he hadn’t yet figured out.

“You left, Joel,” you began, your tone steady, each word landing like a blow. “You lied to me. You treated me like I was the liar, like I was the jealous one. You used my feelings against me, and then you kissed me like you were trying to win some kind of argument, to prove a point. You undressed me. You saw me naked, touched me, and fucked me. And then you left.”

The words hung in the air between you, and you saw how they hit him—hard. His face didn’t change much, but you noticed the way his brows twitched, how his lips parted slightly as if to respond. But you didn’t give him the chance.

“It took you days to come and talk to me properly. Days,” you continued, your voice harder now, every syllable sharp and deliberate. “And when you finally did, it wasn’t to apologize. You treated me like I was nothing more than an afterthought. A stranger. You said it was a mistake, Joel. That you let yourself go. That you regretted it. Do you have any idea how pathetic that made me feel? How used? My best friend decided that sleeping with me was the worst thing he’d ever done. A ‘torturous mistake,’ I think you called it. And no, you didn’t force me. But don’t stand here and ask me why I don’t want to see you anymore. You made me feel less than nothing.”

Joel’s gaze dropped, his head lowering until you could see the thin scar across the bridge of his nose. It was almost absurd, how familiar you were with it—how many times you’d wanted to trace it with your fingertips. Your hand twitched at your side, but you held still, the distance between you stretching impossibly wide.

When he looked up, his eyes startled you. They were glassy, shimmering with unshed tears that caught the light like fragments of something broken. His voice, when it came, was quieter, almost hesitant.

Joel’s voice was steady but low, weighted with something that felt too big to name.

“The first time I saw you, I felt something I wasn’t supposed to feel,” he said, each word measured, like he’d been rehearsing this in his head for years. “I liked you. Simply put. I’m not sure I was even trying to fight it then, but I knew I should have been.”

You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t. The weight of his words settled into your chest, filling spaces you hadn’t known were hollow. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his gaze lingering somewhere to the left of your shoulder.

“It was your birthday,” he continued, his tone softening as though he were wading into the memory. “You were having a bad time. I could tell the second I walked in. I wasn’t even invited to the party, remember? Brianna brought me, and I knew I shouldn’t have attended. It was small, intimate—you clearly weren’t expecting someone like me there. You looked at me like I’d ruined the whole night just by showing up.”

His lips curved slightly, a self-deprecating smile. “Brianna told me it would be fine. She was wrong, obviously. But I figured it out pretty quickly—that it wasn’t me or even the party that was bothering you. It was your birthday. You hated it.” His gaze flicked toward you then, tentative, as if confirming his guess. “Still, you smiled at me in the kitchen. I don’t think you wanted to, but you did. And I thought, this is dangerous.”

Your stomach twisted, memories of that night rushing back in sharp detail—the awkward weight of him in the room, the heat in his voice when he’d said your name. You’d never realized how much he’d been paying attention, even then.

“I was dating your friend,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “so I didn’t let myself think about it much. But after that night, Brianna kept inviting me to things. And I knew you were always there, and that you probably would always look at me like I was some sort of intruder. So I turned her down every time after that. I didn't—I couldn't afford to find out how much I liked you. I've had enough."

His admission hit you like a punch to the ribs. You gripped the edge of the couch, trying to keep your expression neutral, though you weren’t sure you were succeeding.

“When Brianna and I broke up, I figured that was it. I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.” He exhaled, almost laughing at himself. “And then, four years later, you moved in next door. Can you believe that? I actually thought it was fate or something. Stupid, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched, but you didn’t say anything. He didn’t notice. He was smiling faintly now, lost in his own thoughts.

“That’s when I realized how much I liked you,” he said, his voice softening. “Too much. But time passed, and you became more than that. You became my best friend. Sarah adored you. I adored you, i do. You made everything feel... I don’t know, lighter. I couldn’t ruin that just because of some crush.”

His words cracked something open inside you, the realization sinking in that he had never known how you felt. How many nights had you lain awake, cursing yourself for the way you looked at him? And all that time, was he doing the same?

“So I let it go,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “I buried it. You were important to me. Too important. I wasn’t going to risk what we had for something that might not even needed to be real. I couldn't corrupt us. But that's just what I did, isn't it?”

He paused, his eyes finally meeting yours. They were dark, shining with a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“I threw it all away in one night. Let myself get carried away, let my anger take over. And now you’re hurt, and I hate myself for it.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. The tears streaming down your face were hot, but you barely registered them. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating, heavy and weightless all at once.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel said suddenly, his voice dropping. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Don’t think for a second that sleeping with you was torture. It wasn’t. I was stupid and selfish and angry, and I hurt you. I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Your breath caught, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. He wasn’t finished, though. His gaze dropped again, his hands twisting together as he added, almost to himself, “I was too focused on my anger...I didn't realize how much I had hurt you. You look so good with Travis that I thought-”

“Joel.” His name slipped out of your mouth, barely audible, but he didn’t stop.

“He treats you well, doesn’t he?” Joel’s voice cracked slightly. “He’s good to you. Better than I’ve been lately, m'sure of it. I've been mean to him, I know."

"Joel, can-"

"Sarah is very happy for you. Says he's handsome and all that," he continued, almost as if he was thinking out loud. “I’ll stay out of your way,” he said finally, looking back at you with a kindness that made your stomach twist. His smile was soft but hollow, his eyes dark with resignation.

You wanted to tell him to stop. But again, Joel wasn’t looking at you anymore. And his thoughts were spiraling somewhere you couldn’t reach.

“I promise I'll be good. And you don’t have to forgive me. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to try. To make it right. Even just a little, may-”

His voice broke something in you. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening with something that felt too big to contain. And Joel stopped mid-sentence, his body going still as he took in your expression when you suddenly got up the couch, interrupting the sound of his voice, which slowed down as soon as he saw you. 

Joel’s eyes flickered with confusion as he looked at you, his body tense, like a taut string waiting to snap. Your expression must have told him everything he needed to know—or maybe nothing at all. Your breathing was uneven, shallow, as though you couldn’t find enough air.  

There were too many feelings jostling for attention inside you, none of them distinct, all of them overwhelming. His words were still spinning in your head, looping back and forth without ever resolving into clarity. Was he stepping back? Letting go? Accepting Travis? Did you even want him to do that? The thought alone made your chest tighten painfully, but you didn’t even know if it was what he meant.  

You caught his gaze one last time, something raw passing between you, and then you turned sharply. Your feet carried you toward the door like they had a mind of their own, your breath hitching, your pulse wild and erratic. The rush of blood in your ears drowned out the sound of your footsteps, the room, him. You reached out for the door, your hand trembling, when his touch—firm, warm, steady—landed on your shoulders.  

He turned you to face him, and there he was, his expression cracked open with concern. His brow furrowed, his lips parted slightly, searching for words he didn’t know how to form. He looked lost in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.  

“Please don’t—” Joel began, his voice low, careful, but he didn’t finish. He couldn’t, because suddenly, you were on your toes, leaning into him, closing the space between you like it was inevitable.  

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips found his, desperate and unrelenting. For a moment, he froze, stunned, but then his hands moved to your waist, strong and grounding, pulling you closer until there wasn’t even a sliver of space left between you. His eyes fluttered shut, and yours followed, everything else fading to a blur.  

Completely lost, that's how you felt as his lips kissed yours; the kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, and the world tilted. Your breathing came fast and shallow, mixing with his, as if neither of you could quite get enough. His arms tightened around you, his chest pressed against yours, solid and impossibly warm. You felt his strength everywhere, his thick arms wrapped around you, the way he held you like he didn’t want to let go, and it undid you completely.

Your body fit against his in a way that felt both foreign and natural, and when he pulled you tighter, you felt his unmistakable hardness against your belly. The sound that slipped from your lips was involuntary, a soft moan that melted into his mouth. He responded with a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver through you, leaving no doubt that he felt this just as intensely.

He broke the kiss, but only to trail his lips down your neck, finding that spot just beneath your ear that made you gasp. His teeth grazed your skin, gentle but firm, and your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could anchor yourself to him, to this moment. Your body burned under his touch, heat radiating from your skin, your body so hot that if someone spilled water on you it would evaporate instantly.

This time Joel didn't ask, he didn't have to. His hand found yours, and he guided you toward the stairs, his grip steady, his presence a quiet reassurance. Each step was a blur, your feet barely keeping pace with him, but you didn’t care. You trusted him completely, even as your knees wobbled, even as you stumbled and he steadied you.  

When you reached his room, he pushed the door open without hesitation, his lips already finding yours again. It was different this time, hungrier, more urgent, like neither of you could wait any longer.  

How many times had you been in Joel's room? Too many. The space was familiar, you’d been there countless times before, and yet now it felt entirely foreign. The walls seemed closer, the air heavier, thick with anticipation.

He tossed you onto the bed with a gentle push, his hands sliding to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward in one smooth motion before tossing it aside. And his eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink sharp against the charged silence. You sat up, your hands trembling as you peeled off your sweater and shirt, discarding them without a second thought. His pants hit the floor, and as your hands unbuttoned your pants, Joel's hands took over pulling them down your legs, while your eyes devoured the image of him —fully, completely bare—, his thick, swollen dick staring back at you. And you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped you.

Joel climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, his mouth finding yours again. His skin was burning hot beneath your fingertips as your hands explored him, desperate and deliberate. You could feel the weight of him pressing against you, grounding you, and yet you felt utterly unmoored.  

He paused, just barely, his eyes locking on yours in a gaze that felt criminal. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something intense and devastating, as his body pressed even closer to yours. The evidence of his desire pulsed against your skin; his silky pink tip throbbing against your belly. And your breath hitched as a wave of heat rolled through you, leaving you breathless. 

Joel’s right hand slid under your back, his fingertips brushing against your skin in a way that sent an electric current racing through you. Instinctively, your spine arched, your body offering itself to him without hesitation. The faint plastic sound of the clasp unbuckling filled the charged air, followed by the soft sensation of his knuckles brushing your shoulder blades.  

You lifted your arms above your head, releasing the hold you’d had around his neck, giving him the space to slide the bra free in one seamless motion. The fabric disappeared somewhere out of sight, irrelevant now, as his lips returned to the curve of your neck. They pressed there, slow and deliberate, his kisses trailing downward with a tenderness that felt almost reverent.  

When his mouth reached your chest, everything else fell away. Joel paused, just for a heartbeat, before opening his mouth and taking one of your breast, his tongue circling your nipple with a teasing rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. His lips were soft, almost unbearably so, and the suction he applied was gentle but insistent, each movement pulling a quiet moan from your throat.  

Your hands found his hair again, threading through the thick, slightly messy strands. This time, you tugged, harder than you meant to, and he responded with a low, guttural moan that vibrated against your skin, the sound so intimate it made your stomach tighten. His free hand claimed your other breast, his thumb moving in slow, agonizing circles over your nipple, each touch coaxing more heat from you, your body so sensitized it felt like every nerve was connected to him.  

The ache inside you was unbearable, a tension building low in your belly that threatened to spill over with just the careful ministrations of his mouth. You felt wild, desperate, every inch of you on edge, and still, he moved with the kind of patience that felt like torture.  

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice raw and unsteady, “fuck me already.” The words spilled out unfiltered, your head falling back against the pillow, your back arching again in a plea for more of him, more of his touch, more of his weight pressing into you.  

His hands stilled for only a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours. Something passed between you then, a moment of recognition—of shared urgency, yes, but also something deeper. Then his hands moved, confident and certain, to the waistband of your underwear. With no hesitation, he hooked his fingers around the elastic and tugged downward, the fabric dragging against your thighs in a way that felt both intimate and freeing.  

Joel sat back slightly, his weight shifting onto his heels as he worked the underwear off completely, his movements slow. The sun streamed through the window, catching him in a way that made your breath hitch. He looked unreal, the golden light painting his skin in warm hues, the flush on his chest and face deepened by the contrast. His eyes, darkened with desire, somehow glinted brighter in this light, a sharp clarity that made them look like liquid amber.  

You couldn’t look away. He was beautiful—too beautiful, almost painfully so—and the way his chest rose and fell, his labored breathing, the way he looked at you, like he wanted to eat you whole, made your throat tighten.  

Joel smiled then, soft but unguarded, and you swore you felt it everywhere. A double inhaled breath escaped his lips, more felt than heard, and then he let the underwear fall to the floor, forgotten.  

His hands found your ankles next, his grip firm but tender as he slowly spread your legs apart, his gaze dropping between them, dropping to the throbbing heart between your legs. The shift in his expression as his eyes settled there—intense, hungry, almost reverent—made heat bloom across your chest. You felt exposed in the most vulnerable, raw way possible. But it felt good. Natural.

Desire was etched across his face, raw and consuming, his lower lip trembling slightly as though he was holding something back—something that threatened to spill over any second. The air between you felt molten, thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Your whole body ached with need, a fire burning so fiercely inside you that you couldn’t bear to wait any longer.  

As though he could read your mind, Joel leaned over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His body hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hips shifted, his movements slow, deliberate, as he guided himself to you.  

The head of his cock brushed against your clit, swollen and slick with his pre-cum, and the contact sent a shockwave through you. Your cunt throbbed at the sensation, a needy whimper escaping your lips, soft and involuntary.  

Joel groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as he took himself in hand, rubbing his length against you. The pressure, the friction—it was maddening, each stroke sending your back arching off the mattress. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin like you might fall apart if you didn’t hold on to him.  

Then, without warning, he pressed forward, the thick head of him stretching you open, slow and steady. A gasp tore from your throat as he filled you inch by inch, the delicious ache of it making your head spin. Joel’s breath hitched, his eyes falling shut as he stilled for a moment, buried fully inside you. His body trembled slightly, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth gripping him so tightly.  

He dipped his head down, his face close enough that your noses brushed, and your lips found his instinctively, crashing together with a fervent kind of need. His kiss was messy, uncoordinated, but it didn’t matter—it was everything you needed in that moment.  

Joel shifted, bracing himself on his arms, his body pressed even closer to yours as his hips began to move. The first thrust was deep, deliberate, setting a rhythm that sent shockwaves through you. Each roll of his hips drove him impossibly deeper, his cock sliding against your slick heat, glistening in the golden sunlight that spilled across the room.  

The sounds that filled the space were obscene: the wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies meeting, your moans mingling with his, and the creak of the bed frame crashing against the wall with every thrust. The room seemed to shrink around you, the rest of the world fading away until there was only this—only him.  

Your body sank into the mattress under the force of his movements, your hands clutching at his skin desperately. Your nails bit into the muscles of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you cried out, each sound punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his hips.  

You couldn’t think anymore. Your mind had been overtaken completely, drowned in a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. All you could do was feel—the heat of his body against yours, the slick slide of him inside you, the way every thrust seemed to tear you apart and put you back together all at once.  

His eyes found yours then, blazing with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His face was flushed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and neck, and the sight of him like that—lost in you, undone by you—was enough to make your chest tighten.  

Your hands slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips finding the curve of his throat. You kissed him there, tasting the salt of his sweat, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your tongue ran over the wet centimeters of his skin, and Joel let out a low, guttural sound, a noise so raw and primal that it sent a shiver through you.  

His thrusts quickened, each one harder, deeper, the intensity building to a fever pitch. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his skin as if to anchor yourself. You couldn’t hold on much longer—every muscle in your body was coiled tight, the tension growing unbearable, threatening to snap at any second.  

Your mouth found his again, desperate kisses scattered across his jaw and lips, and just as his tongue slipped past your lips, his deep moan vibrated against your mouth. It was your undoing.  

Your body tensed, every nerve igniting as you shattered around him, the release so powerful it stole the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your moans tangled with his as your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, holding him tight.  

Joel’s hips faltered, his rhythm breaking as he followed you over the edge. He groaned, the sound low and hoarse, as his body jerked against yours. You felt him throb inside you, his release hot and overwhelming, spilling deep within you as he buried himself fully one last time.  

The world went quiet then, save for the sound of your labored breathing and the soft creak of the bed as you both stilled. Joel collapsed onto you, his weight grounding you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You were utterly spent, but there was a strange peace in the way his body rested against yours, the way his lips brushed your temple in the aftermath.  

Joel’s lips lingered against yours for a breathless second before he pulled away, his face collapsing into the crook of your neck as though he couldn’t hold himself upright any longer. His body felt heavy, but his touch was soft, almost hesitant, as if the weight of the moment had finally sunk into him. Your labored breaths mingled, the only sound in the room, filling the air with an intimacy that neither of you dared disturb.

When he finally rolled onto his side, you turned to face him, unable to look away. His face was flushed, damp curls clinging to his forehead, and his lips were still swollen and dark from your kisses. There was something unguarded in his expression, a rare openness that made your chest ache. You drank him in with fascination, deliberately holding back the tide of guilt or confusion that threatened to rise.

His eyes caught yours, and when they softened, a warmth unfurled low in your stomach. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with an almost painful tenderness, and then he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple—delicate, reverent, like a vow unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, with a slight sigh, Joel pushed himself up and padded toward the bathroom. You watched him the whole time, your gaze tracing the lines of his back, the way his shoulders moved with every step. When he returned, he carried a damp towel, crouching beside you with quiet purpose. The towel was warm against your skin as he cleaned you carefully, the act so gentle it left your throat tight.

Once finished, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, his body sinking into the mattress beside yours, his arms wrapping around you again, bringing you closer to his warm chest. The silence stretched out between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, the two of you caught in the stillness, but the pull of sleep began to tug at you, the haze of exhaustion wrapping around your mind.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The quiet felt sacred, unbroken by explanations or apologies. You didn’t want to speak, and it seemed Joel didn’t either.

But then, the sharp sound of the front door creaking open shattered the stillness, startling you both. Joel bolted upright, his body tense.

“Dad, I’m home!” Sarah’s cheerful voice echoed up the stairs.

Panic shot through you like ice water. You sat up abruptly, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. Joel was already on his feet, reaching for his clothes in a hurried, almost frantic motion. His eyes darted to you, his expression equal parts alarmed and apologetic.

“I’ll be right down!” he called out, his voice forced into an approximation of calm. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and when he returned, his face and hands were damp. He rubbed at his skin with the hem of his shirt, then turned to you, his gaze steady but urgent.

“Five minutes,” he said softly, waiting for your nod before slipping out the door.

Left alone, you scrambled to pull yourself together. Your legs trembled as you stood, still tender, and your hands shook as you worked to smooth your hair and wipe your face. No amount of effort could erase the telltale flush of your skin or the lingering haze in your eyes, but you tried anyway. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was written all over you, I just had sex.

When you finally made your way downstairs, every step felt like walking into a storm. Your body felt too warm, too obvious, but Sarah’s voice rang out before you could falter.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she rushed toward you. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, her excitement genuine and bright. “Dad told me you were upstairs, but I thought he was joking!”

Joel stood in the living room doorway behind her, leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed. His gaze met yours, careful and unreadable, but the tension between you was a living thing, humming beneath the surface. And then, as Sarah beamed at you, reality crashed over you like a wave.

Travis.

Sienna.

Joel.

And Sarah, looking at you like this was the happiest day of her life.

“What should we do for dinner?” Sarah asked, turning to you expectantly. You opened your mouth, fumbling for a response, but your thoughts were spinning too fast. Your heart was pounding, your pulse roaring in your ears. You glanced at Joel, hoping for a lifeline, but he looked just like you; completely lost.

“Oh, I know,” Sarah said, her tone bright with enthusiasm. “Let’s invite Travis!”

“Sarah,” Joel warned sharply, his voice cutting through her excitement.

“What?” she asked innocently, glancing between the two of you.

“Don’t be nosy,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.

Sarah only laughed, brushing off his scolding. She turned back to you, her expression softening.

“Did my dad apologize to you yet?” she asked conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “It’s about time.”

Her words hung in the air, a weight that neither you nor Joel seemed willing to touch. And as her laughter echoed around you, you forced a smile, though your mind was already spinning, trying desperately to figure out what to say—or what to do next.

It was too much.

[itsgivingmami]

One bed trope? Plus hear me out…reader has a nightmare

31- Rhea Ripley

Sorry this took actual years, was slacking for holidays😅 she’s a long one troops. I wish thee luck. Comments, notes and reblong always appreciated

   “your sweet speaking and lovely laughing—oh it

puts the heart in my chest on wings for when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking is left in me”

Rhea fucking loathed Canada. Going up to cross the border always instilled an overwhelming dread and irritation any time of the year, but especially bloody winter. Snow the first couple times not having it growing up was magical, until she came to realise that it freezes your hair and your never really comfortable in a winter jacket just cold but somehow sweaty at the same time. To this day she fails to understand why anyone would revel in living inside a fucking ice cube for months at a time.

    Her feet felt wet in her boots as she over heated in the smallest hotel lobby she's ever seen, in its defence it may be the crowd of wrestlers and crew packed into the small space of this- where even the fuck were they? Her eyes glanced to you to ask but seeing your furrowed brow staring at your phone made her pause.

    "All good?" Nothing about this is really great, but at least they're safe. They had emergency landed at the nearest available runway to combat the incoming storm and though she doesn't mean it; she considers braving that more appealing than being stuffed into a room with a random person from the company.

       "Trying to get you a refund for the other hotel," She wants to tell you not to worry about it, she'd hardly notice the charge anyhow but doesn't want to come off like she's show boating her wealth and allows you to continue to do, well, your job.

    "Apparently we're all grouping up," she hears from somewhere and signs in relief at least bringing her assistant with her guaranteed she wouldn't be with a stranger. She let out a yawn, eyes watering as she scanned the room. Her colleagues look the same as her, exhausted, ready to lay down and not super excited about the situation they'd ended up in.

    The next hour is a blur of shuffling and key distribution, it's nearly one in the morning by the time someone hands her a key card. You're next to her on the love seat with your knees pulled up resting your head on a hand, eyes closed.

    "Hey," she gently touches your knee and your dark eyes flutter open, Rhea feels bad waking you but if you two can at least get to a room she knows you'll be comfier. She's recently hired you as a personal assistant and with the recent travel stretch she could see the new experience taking its toll. She finds seeing you tired harder than she expected but ignores the way her chest tightens "We've got a room,"

    "Oh sorry," you quickly throw out and she shakes her head, you'd been constantly apologetic since your first day. It was something she'd learned was just a habit and focused on the fact that you'd seemed to finally stop calling her ma'am and celebrated that small victory. "Didn't even realise I'd dozed off," Rhea grabs the strap of your bag from the small coffee table as you lift your glasses onto your head and rub your eyes.

    "We've been awake for too long we should both be dozing," Rhea answers quickly as you go to mention your bag and turns towards the hallway. You take some faster steps to catch up with her long stride along the awful pattern carpet, the amber lights illuminating the way until finding yourselves in front of a chipping burgundy door. She slides the key into the lock and it changes from red to green with an echoed click. Rhea pushes the handle and the door swings open, her eyes look for a chair to place your bags on but her gaze stops on the middle of the room where a single queen size mattress sits. "Bloody hell," Rhea swears under her breath, you come in the room behind her, you both stare at the bed in silence.

     "I'll take the fl-" you stop mid sentence as Rhea stares at you, despite working for her over a month now you still found her in ring and out of ring personality lines blurry. You'd seen first hand what she could do angry in the ring and had made it your soul mission to make sure you'd never make her upset.

     "We can share I'm not that high maintenance," Rhea explains and chuckles which does little ease the tension weighing down around you both. "If I ever get that far up my own ass you oughta punch me,"

"That definitely seems like a breech of my contract," you joke back with an airy giggle. Did you have to keep bringing that up? The fact that she was technically your boss as she definitely she not be having certain types of thoughts about you in general.

"You should grab a shower first, get rid of any left over chill," Rhea tells you keeping her back turned as she drops tour bags onto the end of the bed. The only bed. You want to offer it back, she does have a match but she gives you that stare again. It's overwhelming but comforting, the way she refuses to put herself over you.

   "I won't be long," you assure you and she smiles tightly at you and you practically sprint into the room and shut the door.

    "Take your time," Rhea answers to the empty room, hers legs giving out as she sits on the bed. She hears the pipes squeak as the water turns on and she finally relaxes for a moment. Mentally her chastising herself that she needed to get it together if she was going to make it through this.

     Rhea thought she was used to this feeling by now. She had seen your face or heard your voice every single day for the last thirty days and each time it happened was a test of patience, a lesson in self control and slowly it had been getting easier. Or well, she thought so. Maybe it was the setting, an older hotel with soft lighting. An eye to the snow storm in this god awful country. Maybe it was the fact that the whipping winds outside and blowing snow make this feel separate from the real world. The world where you're only her assistant, the world where she has to get up for the gym in six hours, the world where she's unsure.

   She huffs and stands back up walking away towards the window before turning and staring at the mattress. Was it getting smaller? Her strong hands rake through her hair, no longer bothering to keep let fringe styled forward, she unpacks her phone charger and something to change into ignoring the pit in her stomach and the voice screaming that no matter how normal she tried to make this, it was definitely something new.

"Rhea?" Her inner turmoil is cut off when you call her and she spins around quickly. Confusion painting her face as she stares at the cracked bathroom door, light and steam coming through, "I- Uh, could you pass my bag please?"

Oh. OH. She froze for a second as her brain caught up and moved to grab your bag which was sure enough left behind on the bed. She lands a foot from the door,

"I've got it here," she watches as you peek around the door, wet hair pushed over on shoulder, water droplets shining in the light on your face.

"Thanks," you murmur staring up at her and quietly slink back behind the door. Rhea stands in place watching the air where you just were and swallows thickly. That confirms it, she's screwed.

You're feeling a similar way when your left alone in the room, barely having said more than a sentence to Rhea as you'd traded to embarrassed that she had seen you in a towel and more embarrassed by the fact that you wouldn't mind showing her more. The thoughts pop up before you can stop them placing the blame on the jet lag but deep down you know it had nothing to do with it. Feeding yourself a convenient excuse just like you had every day since starting your employment.

Staring at her hands? No no you were admiring her tattoos or even her jewellery. She'd offer the pieces to you when she caught your gaze and you'd turn her down politely, between not wanting to give her any reason to think you were imaging about all the activities you could day dream while looking at her fingers move and the fact that she wore silver when you preferred gold it seemed like a safer choice to not accept her gestures. It was dizzying to you that the person who could make you cower with her stare could be so kind hearted.

Between the flying, the arguing with the airline company and being cold for hours your body is starting so fight back, clawing for sleep and you pace back and forth. Staring daggers at the bed for its inability to magically split in two and how comfortable it was looking as you grew more exhausted.

“No: tongue breaks, and thin fire is racing under skin

and in eyes no sight and drumming fills ears”

     Rhea nearly melted when she saw you asleep on the bed your phone tumbled beside your slack hand and you breathe softly. She's grateful that your unconsciousness had saved her from doing the which side dance. Carefully stepping towards you she gently pulls the sheets from under your legs, freezing when you adjust and murmur at her before settling again. Rhea lets out a breath and pulls the covers up your body. She flips the lamp on your side and it turns off with a metallic clank.

    Staring at the empty spot beside you she starts to breathe heavier and stalls by going to check the door that locks automatically and close the curtains. A yawn bubbles up as she's wandering around and her eye lids are getting heavier with each second. Her body moves to the bed as if it's calling and she pulls the covers back on her side before sitting down. Shes sure she looks ridiculous moving a slowly as possible and freezing with every sound.

       Rhea watches you peacefully, the soft light from under the door and the moon outside casting a heavenly glow on you. There's a part of her that feels like a creep watching you and she stares up at the ceiling for a moment. You scare the shit out of her when her your foot hits her calf, followed by a quiet whimper. Her eyes widened as she looked to you, your face scrunched in distress.

     "Hey," she whispers to you softly as her hand lightly hovers over your bare shoulder, still hesitant to touch you especially like this. Your body jerks in place again and she watches your hands curl into tight fists. "Mhm you'll hurt yourself," she tells you but you don't hear her and your unconscious body shakes. Rhea reaches for your hands trying to prevent harm, your skin is clammy on hers and she swallows thickly in fear. "Wake up for me,"

“and cold sweat holds me and shaking grips me all, greener than grass”

    You're not sure if it's the terror your sleeping brain is causing, the assertiveness of Rheas voice or feeling her nails in your hair but your eyes snap open and you gasp loudly. Desperately clinging to the nearest thing you don't even realise you've got a wrestler level trap hold on her body, or that you're holding her at all. You take in air in short shallow breaths, vision a blur of black that is Rheas clothing and warm tears.

    "It's me it's Rhea," she cooes to you, the grip you have on her holding strong and it urges her to pull you closer. "You're safe,"

      Your mouth opens to speak but nothing except a choked cry comes out, you feel Rhea pull you upwards allowing more air into your lungs as she pulls your arms over her muscular shoulders.

    "Can you hear me?" She asks and you nod against her chest, a heavy hand rubs your back and it's comforting to you both as she feels your breathing slowing. "Good girl," she says relieved. You two sit in silence for a while, small residue hiccups leaving you.

    "Th-thank you," peeling your fingers from her feels like glue as your back straightens, your arms feel like stone as they fall from her to your sides. "I had a nightmare,"

      "Yeah I-," Rhea covers her mouth with her hand not allowing the chuckle to come out, "I figured,"

     "I don't usually have those," you rasp, eyes trained on the sheets below "I don't even remember,"

   "Exhaustion and sleep deprivation make them more likely," Rhea explains, voice lowered as guilt floods her, "I pushed you too far I'm sorry,"

    "No you didn't I made the decision I'm a grown woman," you affirmed and Rhea groaned. You tried to scoot backwards but she reaches for your fore arm.

    "Yes a woman," Rhea agrees, you watch her carefully. "A woman that I can't pretend I'm not falling for, assistant or not I just can't pretend," her eyes meet yours, her gaze stronger than you'd ever seen it as you stay locked to her. "That I don't want you,"

You find yourself speechless as her confession echoes in your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek to make sure you're actually awake before you move your arms back around her shoulders and pull her flush against you. She pulls your body to straddle her as you hug tightly, getting as close as possible to each other.

"I want-," you stutter out finally finding words, as her arms fold against the small of your back. You pull back to come face to face with her, you teary eyes looking into hers. "I want you too,"

720 hours worth of self control build up had crumbled within the raven haired woman holding you, her lips find yours as you let out a gasp of surprise before your lips meld together and she swallows your small noises. Rhea tastes like tooth paste and her lips claim yours, you smile against her lips feeling her tongue ring hit your lip and she takes the opportunity to explore your mouth.

Your stomach feels like it’s floating as Rheas hands run your body, now that she finally has you she’s forgotten what it was like to have distance between your bodies. She occasionally separates from your lips allowing you to breath each others air as she places soft kisses on the sides of you mouth and your chin. She cups your jaw and uses her thumb to wipe the drool that fell from your mouth before gently pulling on your bottom lip. You watch her eyes stare hungrily at her action and the moment your lips snaps back up she’s in your mouth again.

“I am and dead—or almost”

~

“That emergency landing was the shits,” Damian complains as he plops down next to Rhea, who’s sitting in the middle plane seat despite you telling her you could take it.

“Punks a fucking beast of a snorer,”

Rheas hand squeezes yours, pressed between your two bodies and the seat. She looks to you for a moment and grins before turning back to Damian.

“Fucking awful,” Rheas tells him but can’t hide the grin on her face,

“Just intolerable,” you add smiling.

“I seem to me”

Sappho- Fragment 31

[noonwardmoss]

Late Night Snack ♡

CW: somno (m receiving), oral (m receiving), blink-and-you'll-miss-it daddy kink, service reader(?), slight powerplay

Summary: Butcher and you haven't been intimate for a while, so your thirsty ass takes matters into your own hands.

Tags: @angelically-yours @konartiste-sideblog @chocolategiverzombie @bobabilbil @frank3nfag @tsundere-queen @daydreamingdarl

Notes: this is not beta-read don't kill meee

Smut below cut

Butcher didn't exactly remember how this dynamic started. All he knew was that it'd been going on for a while. You were a young thing prancing about like he'd sculpted the Earth. He couldn't not get a taste. And after that first one, he got another. Then another, and another, to the point you two were semi-frequently having sex.

He'd told you that you could come to him any time you needed it. He hadn't expected you to take that literally.

The day went relatively normal—they'd gotten a good amount of work done and retired at a semi-reasonable time. You were a tad more fidgety than usual, but it didn't raise any concern.

It clearly should have, though.

Not much time passed between Butcher falling asleep and waking back up—his body grousing awake at the feeling of clumsy fingers trying to grip his length from underneath his boxers. A soft voice sounded a small whimper. Your voice.

His eyes popped open, and he immediately came face-to-face with the figure mouthing at his pelvis. You must've been at it for a bit because he was already half-stiff in his sleep-slurred state.

Was he still asleep? On his luckiest nights, he'd dream of you like this—desperate for him, initiating…

“Oi,” he croaked, voice thickened with rest, “fuck're ‘ya doin'?”

At his words, your eyes fluttered to him. You made a pretty sight, hunched over his crotch and straddling his knees. He could see your pupils fluctuating in the dark, trying to discern his reaction as your cheek went to rest against his bony hip.

“Needed it,” was the only reasoning you provided, tone that of a whining pup. He could tell you were tired, too—but apparently not enough to prevent you from doing whatever *this* was.

A gruff, almost amused scoff shook through Butcher's chest. You always were a pouter.

“Yeah? And this is how you decided t’ get it?” There was a lazy playfulness to his demeanor—one that only encouraged you. As you nodded, one of his large hands found its way to the back of your head, carding through your hair.

“You said anytime.” He smirked at your defense.

You'd never been the one to initiate before. But now, you were the one who came to him—needy and desperate. He had to admit, he liked the sudden boldness. It made him feel wanted. Your sex lives were in no way vanilla by now, and he'd talked about it being on the table before.

Was that why you were so twitchy today? The idea was a bit humorous, you have been on edge from being horny and wanting him. A whining pup, indeed.

His thumb found its way to your lower lip, pushing inward to feel the soft heat of your mouth. In his current hazy state, it didn't feel real.

“That I did, pet,” he hummed, tone only slightly breathless. God, you made such an image… His cock had fully hardened now to strain against the cloth of his boxers. “Just didn't expect it to actually happen.”

His finger hooked against your bottom teeth, prying your jaw open just a bit more.

“It's been too long,” you admitted. His digit in your mouth made the words slur together. “I needed to taste you, sir.”

He nearly groaned at that word—sir. It seemed to be something you uniquely called him. No one else garnered such a tone of respect and reverence from you. How he earned it—placated you—he'd forever be clueless and impressed to.

“How long was too long, princess?” His dick twitched at the sight of you being so uncharacteristically greedy. He'd usually be pissed over being woken up so late in the night, but the prospect of you itching for him all day was a bit… flattering. A toxic bubble of pride welled up in him, even though any reasonable person would've been concerned.

“It's been weeks,” you huffed, and even in his half-asleep state, that surprised him. He tried to wrack his brain for the last time you two had sex, but his focus was more on the fact you hadn't done anything about your desire until now.

“You been aching for me for weeks, pretty thing? Couldn't find anyone else to help?” He tutted mockingly. As expected, you shook your head.

“No. Only want you.” You nosed into his length again, and he stifled a groan. Despite knowing that'd be your answer, he still felt a wave of satisfaction at your insistence. His hand tightened in your hair as he tilted your head back.

“Been a proper good girl, have you? Only wantin’ your daddy to take care of you…”

You nodded the best you could in his grip, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his cock through the cloth.

“Can I please, then?” You murmured, looking at him through your lashes as the vibrations of your voice traveled through him. He gave a low hum.

“You don't need to ask.” His answer came with a gruff tone, as though saying ‘obviously’.

He pushed the blanket completely aside and shifted so he was sitting properly against the headboard, pulling the fabric of his boxers as some sort of encouragement.

“Go on, pet,” Butcher huffed. “Take what you want.”

Your fingers eagerly found the hem of his boxers, hooking in and pulling them down. His length bobbed, hitting your cheek from the proximity, and you made a small noise.

You'd think after all the hookups you've had so far, the shock of it all would wear off and he'd just sit and enjoy it. But no. Every time he felt the gentle touch of your hands, it was like a goddamn dream. In an idle fantasy in his head, he'd often imagine you like this. Needy, almost desperate. Somehow, the reality was better than anything his mind could have fabricated.

You lapped at his tip near instantly, and he hissed through his teeth. Your eyes returned to his at the sound, mouth opening wide to tap him on your tongue. Christ, had he taught you that?

“Yeahh.” The word tumbled from Butcher's lips with a groan, fingers rooting in your hair loosely enough not to scratch your scalp. He wanted to be selfish and buck up—to take—but you were taking rare initiative. He wanted to savor the change in dynamic.

A low moan slipped from both of you when you wrapped your lips around him and swirled your tongue. While you lavished the tip with attention, your hand found the base and stroked.

A breathless puff of laughter was pulled out of Butcher, and he shifted his hips down a bit for you. A million things were going through his head, and they all involved you. All of this—this whole scene—was ripped straight from one of his more daring dreams of you.

“Just like that,” he praised, hand running through the strands of your hair. It only encouraged you to take a bit more of his length. You swallowed around him before bobbing experimentally, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive skin in the way you knew he adored.

A low groan rumbled from his chest, and his hips tilted forward. The mix of your enthusiasm and inexperience was sending waves of heat down his body.

A low ‘tsk’ escaped his lips at the grazing. “Teeth, baby, remember?”

You hummed again as an answer, the resulting vibrations making him jersey his hips. You gagged, but managed to keep yourself on him. The vixen you were, you knew how he loved the danger from the pressure of your teeth.

And well, if you wanted to play like that, he could certainly provide.

His large hands tangled tighter in your hair, pulling at a sign of encouragement. His pelvis stuttered before he pushed himself further down your throat, a breathy groan leaving him.

“You're doin’ good, sweetheart.” The praise was laced with strain, low and cracking. You moaned around his dick, picking up enthusiasm again.

If it wasn't enough for you to look so damn good, the sounds were driving him further insane. He let you control the pace momentarily, an itch to control bubbling under his skin with each moment.

“If you were in such a rush, y’ shoulda come to me sooner.” The low growl was punctuated by a push of his hips, fingers tightening in your hair to keep you in place. You drooled around him, sinking down a bit more with hazy eyes. And the two of you were too similar in this way—you both got pleasure by giving it to your partner in bed.

Your nails grazed his pelvic bone, barely digging in. There was an electricity that buzzed just under the surface of Butcher's skin, a tingling heat that began to cloud his mind. That, coupled with the fact he was still half-convinced he was asleep, created some feedback loop of fuzzy pleasure. The sharp sting of your nails had him bucking up into your warm heat, lolling his head back with a harsh groan.

You choked again, taking deep breaths through your nose to somehow willpower yourself to stay on his dick. Then, once you'd gotten your gag reflex under control, you sank all the way to the base, nose nuzzling his public hair. Your throat fluttered with the effort, dragging a breathy moan from the man under you.

“Ffuuuck yeah—yeah, good girl. Stay just like that for a bit, darlin’,” came his murmur, voice just barely more than a rough growl. The last of his breath was pushed out almost like you were taxing him, and with his praise came the soothing pet of his hand through your hair. You blinked the tears away to keep your eyes on him, face flushed in the dim lighting. You swallowed around him ever-so-often as you obeyed, staying flush to his pelvis.

And those teary eyes staring at him with so much desire nearly made him lose it.

There was a moment where he just felt overwhelmed—a rush of a million sensations he didn't know how to name rushing to his head and making it spin. A shuddering sigh spilled from his lips at them.

“Look at you.” His voice was but a ragged breath now, hand running down from the top of your head to your cheek to brush away stray tears that had fallen. “Such a pretty thing, you are, doll.”

His touch made you keen as you decided that was encouragement enough to continue. With a long drag up his length, you released a small noise from your throat. Your sounds weren't helping Butcher's current state much.

“Don't stop. Fuuck—yeah. Jus’– Just like that, sweetheart,” he rumbled with another groan. The feeling was enough to make his legs feel unsteady—and that feeling had him rolling into the wet warmth of your mouth.

He was embarrassingly close embarrassingly fast—but in his defense, it'd been a while, and he was barely awake. Not that you seemed to mind either way, though. The thrumming in your veins was nearly unbearable, the desire to please having been melting you for days. You wanted to please him tonight—which might've come at the cost of your own pleasure considering he could be too exhausted to do anything else.

His grip on your head tightened, his breathing growing increasingly shaky and his hands shaking with the effort not to just fuck your throat with wild abandon.

“Just like that, baby– Just like that… Shit, I'm gonna– F-fuck–” He was cut off with a harsh, breathless moan as you doubled your efforts. You needed to see him contort with the pleasure you knew he deserved again—almost as much as you needed air. His hips stuttered into your mouth with his thrusts, long and shallow with tire.

You pulled off, much to his displeasure, leaving your mouth open wide as your hand returned to his cock. Quick, hot breaths left you as you rested him against your tongue while you stroked him to completion.

When he came, you gave a small, sweet moan. His spend coated your tongue and lips, satisfying your taste buds in some cruel way that made your loins burn. Your hand gradually slowed as you swallowed, lapping at him lazily afterward until he was completely flaccid and hissing with overstimulation.

“I needed that,” he exhaled once you stopped, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The grip in your hair released, fingers soothing over your scalp as if apologetic for how hard he'd tugged. Then, his hand returned to its place on your cheek, wiping the drool from your chin. His eyes fluttered shut as he did so—it seemed he truly was, in fact, dead tired.

“Such a good girl, huh?” His eyes flickered down to your shifting thighs, catching the way they searched for any relief. He wiped some of the mess he'd left from your bottom lip, and you sucked his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue swirled it clean before you released the digit. The action caught him off-guard, a sharp intake of breath resulting. God, he wished he had the energy, but he was already struggling to stay awake.

“You make it goddamn difficult to last, princess. Can see how wound up you are,” he huffed, amusement and disappointment toward himself laced through his tone. You pulled yourself up, tucking him back into his pants before shifting to curl up into his side. He sighed as his arm went to wrap around you. Despite the fact you'd needed him for weeks apparently, you seemed content to ignore yourself for a little longer.

“You– mmh… don't want me to take care of ya, love?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. He wasn't going to complain, but he'd certainly make up for it later. For now, though, he was well and fully exhausted. And the bed was comfortable. When you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, he hummed.

“I'll take that as a no, then. A bloody shame, but I s’pose you've tired me out.”

“Tomorrow?” Came your whisper after another moment, and his lips twitched upward.

“Whenever you want, baby.”

[miabebe]

Where you're convenient (II)

Scenario - Yes it was circumstances that forced these arrangements but why was it that at its breaking point, all you want to do is hold on to it?

Pairing - Husband! Seokmin × reader

Genre - smut with lots of plot, fluff fluff fluff cause there's a kid 👀, and angsty angsty pining hehe

Word Count - 11K (as usual, I apologise)

Warnings - oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (well there's babies wanted here so), riding, cum eating

A/n -  part 2 is finally here! These keep getting longer idk why 😭 I'm gonna take a small break and shift attention to my series before I return for part 3 (woozi)!

P.s all 3 parts are not related, they can be read individually, they simply share the same trope of marriage of convenience which I'm an absolute sucker for 🙃 Read Joshua's here!

The moment Seokmin’s eyes fell on the entrance of the overpriced restaurant, he knew exactly why his sister insisted on this meeting.

Sighing deeply, he parked his car in a vacant lot and ran his fingers through his untamed hair, glancing at his reflection of the mirror. There was no need to look his best for this meeting, just presentable would do - after all, he was not here to impress. Grabbing the bag you handed him earlier today, he made his way in, eyes falling on his sister and her company - a pretty woman, definitely around his age since clearly, this was yet another attempt to set him up on a date.

He greeted them with his usual sweet smile before hugging his devil of a sister, whispering a bunch of obscene words in her ear which she coolly ignored, habituated to his reaction to such meetings over time. Although he was already prepared to leave, he slid across the boxes of cupcakes you made and took a seat, pulling out his phone, while his sister raved to her friend about how you made the best cupcakes in the world.

Seokmin 17:48: Just met Minseo. Should be home in an hour. Traffic's really bad.

And then his sister began her usual business of introducing her friend to him, then him to her, then mentioning how 'surprisingly' the two of them were so similar, subtly hinting how they would be so compatible.

Seokmin rolled his eyes, familiar with this drill, listening to her blabber with a struggling, polite smile. This was quite a frequent occurrence - every now and then Minseo would bring a friend or colleague to introduce them, afraid that her useless brother would die single given how uninterested he was in dating. Today's friend was Sumi, her colleague from the first ever company she worked in, who was apparently his age, recently single, also loved pizza and working out. Barely interested in the ongoing conversation, Seokmin kept glancing at his phone time and again, relieved when it finally buzzed.

You 18:04: Okay, have fun with MinSeo, tell her I said hi!

You 18:04: Also, look at this [attachment]

It was a photo of Aera, her mouth, hands and clothes covered in a light pink frosting as she laughed at the camera both innocently and mischievously.

You 18:05: I swear to god, I can't look away from her for a second.

"Are you even listening Min-ah?

Seokmin looked up at both ladies staring at him with a tinge of annoyance and turned his phone to show them the picture that was making him smile so ridiculously. Instantly, they broke out into a series of awws and little praises making his heart swell with pride. That was his daughter after all.

"Isn't she the cutest?" Sumi looked up from his phone. "She's two and a half right?"

"Actually she's 2 years and 10 months." Seokmin took back his phone, taking another look at the love of his life. "Born in May."

"A Taurus baby?"

"Gemini." He corrected. "Last week of May."

"She must be quite the troublemaker huh?"

"You have no idea." Seokmin laughed typing a reply.

Seokmin 18:08: What have you done to my sweet angel?

"Shall we order food first?" Minseo picked the menu card. "What about pizza-"

"Not for me." Seokmin shook his head. "I'm not eating. In fact, I have to leave soon."

"Min-ah, come on, you're seeing me after so long-"

"I literally saw you last week, at mum's place."

"But it's your first time meeting Sumi, don't be rude."

Seokmin turned to her friend. "I'm sorry, I would stay longer but I haven't seen my daughter all day and I'm sure there's food at home already." He glanced at his sister before turning back. "I don't know if you know, but my wife makes really good food, she's a chef."

"A pastry chef." His sister corrected. "I mean no one makes desserts better than her but you're the better cook. "

You 18:10: Angel? She's the devil spawn, this little thing.

Seokmin 18:11: Are you calling me the devil? How dare you

"Maybe," He looked up from his phone. "But I always eat dinner made by my wife."

Minseo rolled her eyes yet again, but Sumi nodded understandingly. When the two women discussed for 20 whole minutes, finally placed an order for themselves and Sumi excused herself to the washroom, Seokmin turned to his sister.

"Why won't you give up?"

"Why won't you give in?"

"Because, everyone you try to set me up with is not my type.."

"Really?" Minseo raised an eyebrow. "What about Sumi is not your type? You two are literally the same people."

"Yeah well, did you see her nails? Clearly she loves manicures and stuff like that."

His sister blinked, lost. "And that's a problem because?"

"I have a child you idiot, I can't have those claws around her?"

"So she'll stop getting them done. That should solve your issue."

"I don't want anyone to change themselves or give up on things they like because of me."

"I'm about to kick your ass Lee Seokmin." She muttered angrily. "I have tried to set you up with all kinds of women yet no one is good enough. What do you want Min-ah?"

"What do you want? Why do you keep dragging me to these-"

"Because I want to see you happy!"

"I am happy!"

"Say what you want Seokmin, that's not a happy marriage."

He sighed. "What problem do you have with Y/n?"

"With Y/n?" She looked at him perplexed. "Not one damn thing. In fact when you leave her, I might just ask her to marry me, I love that woman so much. The question is......do you?"

Seokmin blinked, not finding the words. Love? Sure he had a crush on you a couple of years ago but to be honest, nearly everyone did. He was in his final year of culinary school when he caught sight of you at the freshers party, walking in in that tight silver dress, looking like a dream. Rumor was you already had a boyfriend so Seokmin simply introduced himself and walked away, letting that little crush of his fade over time. Soon after, he successfully graduated, got a job at a Michelin star restaurant and life was good until he met you again, almost 4 years later at an alumni party.

Now, did Seokmin still have a crush on you? He didn't know really, he didn't even have the time to sort his feelings, not when you were giving him the flirtiest eyes, hands and body moving not very decently on the dance floor and especially not when you dragged him by the collar to a nearby room and the two of you fucked for hours.

"You always go silent when I ask you this Min-ah. It's a simple yes or no question."

Minseo looked expectantly at her brother who had now diverted his attention to the notification bar and time on his phone - you had still not replied to him. Panic slightly bubbled in his chest. Was something wrong?

He quickly downed the glass of water before of him and grabbed his bag.

"I'm sorry noona, I should head home. I think Y/n needs me."

Before she could reply, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and ran out to the parking, leaving his sighing sister behind. Through the glass she watched her brother rush away in his car, wondering how many more of such set ups it would take before he admitted what he felt for you.

Though Seokmin wanted to get back home as soon as possible, with all that traffic, all he could do was wait, fingers tapping on the wheel, mind getting restless. It was not like you to take so long to reply, he knew that much. Sinking back into the car seat, he glanced out at the streets that he no longer walked down ever since he became a father. The life of leisure he once lived was no longer a possibility because now he lived only for his daughter. And you.

It wasn't a part of his life plan to become a father so young but apparently, things have their own way of panning out. He was supposed to become a famous chef, open his own chain of restaurants, establish himself as a successful businessman and retire by 45. Instead, he found himself getting a phone call from an unknown number about 2 months after that fateful night of the alumni party. It was you.

It was indeed strange that you asked to meet up at your workplace considering the two of you had made it very clear to each other that this was a one time thing, but he went regardless. Over a cup of coffee and a piece of cake you broke the news that you were pregnant and the child was his. Now Seokmin knew condoms were not 100% effective but that night the two of you had used quite a few of them, given how many rounds went down.

You told him you were going to have the child and if he wanted, he could be a part of the baby's life too. Of course he wanted to, even though this entirely threw off his life plan, of course he would be a part of his child's life, there was no question. Seokmin had grown up without the presence of a father his whole life and he knew what the felt like - there was not a chance he would let that child go through the same as well. So he told you he was there for whatever you needed and however you needed him.

The first trimester was quite uneventful. Seokmin had barely seen you after that meeting in the cafe - the two of you would just keep in touch via texts. He would check up to make sure you were eating on time and that the morning sickness wasn't too much. You would simply answer his questions and thank him. But you didn't ever ask much of him.

By your second trimester, he had moved into the building across yours so he could be near you for anything you wanted and everything you needed. He helped drive you to and from your prenatal visits, did grocery runs whenever you worked too late, carried your bags and boxes up the stairs. It was all on his own though, you still had asked for any favours.

The first thing you had ever asked of him was nearly a month later, around the 7th month of your pregnancy. In the middle of a rainy night, with a small bag slung over your shoulder, you had knocked on this door, mildly drenched and shivering. Seokmin instantly panicked even though you repeatedly assured him you were alright. The problem was your dick of an ex boyfriend, constantly knocking down your front door leaving you no choice but to take the fire escape and come here. That man had been behind you for months, insisting you take him back into your life, not taking no for an answer. His persistence had forced you to even change homes and numbers over the last year but now somehow, he had managed to find you again. You asked if you could stay here for a day or two till he stopped bothering you and Seokmin immediately agreed. He had no idea you were going through all this.

One day turned to two and two became a week. Seokmin had now began accompanying you almost everywhere, constantly keeping an eye on your surroundings and it was a miracle he hadn't landed a punch on that slime ball of an ex of yours. That man would harass and embarrass you publicly, he would turn up drunk at the doorstep and create a scene, throwing up and passing out, he would follow you to your workplace and just sit in the store hours on end. Things became exponentially worse when he found out that you and Seokmin were not in fact in a relationship, just expecting a child together - he went ballistic with his attempts to get you back.

Panic rose in Seokmins chest just thinking about those days years ago, hoping to god everything was fine at home. He glanced at his phone again as he parked his car and rushed out, bolting up the stairs, unable to wait for the lift. When he opened the door of his apartment, toys and books and things were scattered everywhere, in the middle of the living room, a bunch of disorganised chairs and sheets haphazardly thrown around.

Seokmin slowly and quietly approached the mess pushing everything aside, heart racing in his chest, thoughts plaguing his mind till he spotted you and his little girl, fast asleep in what was clearly a blanket fort, making him sigh in relief. Your phone was lying next to you and Aera was lying on top, head snuggled in your chest, raising and falling rhythmically. You looked so beautiful tired, sleeping with your hair askew and mouth slightly open - seeing the mess all around, Seokmin knew it must have been one of Aera's uncontrollably active days. He smiled at the way your arm protectively wrapped around her and how she clung onto you - watching the two of you together was always his favourite thing to do. But he knew it must hurt to carry her weight on top for so long so he slowly crouched and quietly tried to take his daughter into his arms but the moment he lifted her-

"Daddy!"

Seokmin laughed as his girl, now somehow fully awake, began excitedly moving in his arms in a little dance to welcome him home, giggling away. He stood up, hugging her back and peppering her tiny face with kisses as she proceeded to sing loudly in joy. (She truly did take after him.) He watched her amused, trying to make out what in the world she was saying, when you let out a soft groan, making him turn. As you stretched awake, yawning and sighing, eyes slowly fluttering open, flashing him a sleepy smile, Seokmin felt his heart flip in his chest.

"Why, why, why doesn't your daughter sleep Mr. Lee?"

He chuckled. "I think she takes after you Ms. L/n."

"Oh no no, I was always the obedient child in the house. Your sister told me you were the troublemaker."

"You're calling this cutie a troublemaker?" Seokmin scrunched the cheeks of his daughter earning the cutest laugh. "She looks like the best baby in the world to me."

You sighed, getting up and rubbing soft circles her tummy.

"You're always gonna be daddy's baby girl aren't you?"

You could too if you want to.

Seokmin ignored his stupid mind voice and glanced at your tired self, slightly worried. "How was your day?"

"Decent." You smiled. "I was working on orders in the morning - there was a baby shower I had to cater for in the afternoon. I swear, I stepped out into the balcony to take a call for literally 5 minutes and your 'best' baby here had lathered herself in all the frosting I made. Then I had to sit make another batch while while the sugar turned your daughter into a hyperactive destruction machine. She didn't even sleep in the afternoon and I had just managed to get her to sleep when..."

"Sorry." Seokmin gushed sheepishly. "I thought I was helping-"

"No, no that's okay, she needs to bathe and eat anyways. Better you wake her up, she gets all cranky otherwise."

Seokmin dropped a sweet kiss on his child's cheek as she continued to search for something in his ear lobe with utmost seriousness.

"How was your day? How's Minseo?"

"Oh same old, just complaining about her kids and mom, the usual." He didn't need you to know the exact details of what happened. Not when it didn't matter to him anyways. "She said she had dinner prepared at home so we didn't really eat anything."

"Oh no, you must be so hungry? I have a few orders to pack for tomorrow, let me quickly finish that up, then we can do dinner yeah?"

Seokmin nodded as you walked away to the kitchen, sleep barely shaken away.

The good thing about Seokmin's apartment was the large pantry, which when you first came to this house was merely a storeroom but over time, it had become your working station. After you had graduated, given your sweet tooth, you had traveled around, meeting different chefs, taking small courses and mastered the art of dessert making. Not only did that trip help get away from and over your ex boyfriend but it had also solidified your skill set as a pâtissier. After coming back to Seoul, an old senior and friend had contacted you, offering you a job in her bakery cafe till you worked on your own business plan and all was going well till that alumni party.

Sure, when Seokmin introduced himself to you in your freshmen year you thought he was possibly the most gorgeous person you'd ever laid your eyes on. He didn't seem too interested in you and that was fine, given you were already in a relationship with your high school boyfriend. Meeting him again, so many years later, finding out he had gotten oh so much hotter and having suffered a dry spell for so long, you had managed to somehow get into his pants for what was the best night you had ever had. You had quite literally fucked him out of your mind, and were happily moving on with your life when the news of the pregnancy hit.

You did go to work in the initial months but as the third trimester approached, it was hard to balance your well being and the strain that came from working. Your boss was kind enough to let you keep your job and that's how for the last 2 odd years, you found yourself working from home, only preparing and delivering on custom orders the shop received, allowing you to keep both your passion alive and make decent money.

"I was going to give Aera a bath-"

"Okay!"

"-but the neighbour's kids want to take her downstairs to play."

Normally, you wouldn't let her go down when it was late and dark outside but she needed to get that sugar out of her system and you needed to be alone with Seokmin for a bit. There was something you wanted to talk to him for a while now.

The giggles of your daughter faded in the background as Seokmin walked into the kitchen, pulling out a tub of something from his bag.

"I'm going to make the best ravioli you've ever had for dinner."

You smiled watching him wash up and put on an apron, getting ready to bustle away in the kitchen. You loved watching Seokmin cook - there was something so elegant and attractive about how well he navigated around while cooking, smoothly chopping and stirring away. He never let you make dinner. Though he slogged in the kitchen restaurant from day break till the evening cooking away, Seokmin never let you cook when he was home. He'd say you didn't have to worry about it when he was there. Actually, as long as he was around, you never worried about anything.

You didn't think there would come a point where Seokmin would become your partner for life but here you are. Years ago, when your ex was tormenting you, you had contemplated just moving out of the city but it was Seokmin who held your hand and asked you to face him bravely. You did, you really tried, but it didn't matter when the other man was such a terrible pain in the ass - nothing changed. It was then that Seokmin’s mother suggested that the two of you get married, hoping that would settle things once and for all but you refused.

As idealistic as that seemed, it was never your intention to bind Seokmin with you in such a permanent relationship but he didn't seem to think so. If a marriage was what it would take to keep his child safe, he was willing to do it. It took a few more months, a few more threats from your ex and a reasonable suggestion from your sister for you to finally agree to it. Within a few days the two of you were married with a set of promises said out loud and a set of them silently agreed upon

One, this would be an open marriage - two of you were free to see and be with other people and two, 3 years later, you would reassess where this relationship stood and what it's future would be.

You had agreed on this arrangement for Seokmin more than for yourself. Once you gave birth, you knew you'd be busy with your child and work, but you didn't want Seokmin to feel trapped because of one night's decision. True enough, after Aera came along, you didn't even have the time to look at another man, forget thinking about one. Sometimes you wondered if Seokmin found someone but from the intel that had reached you, it didn't seem like he had. He'd always come home immediately after work, he didn't usually go out anywhere on the weekends, his friends always complained to you that they never saw him around - Seokmin spent every breathing minute he had free with his daughter.

You glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall beside Seokmin for the nth time this month, noting each day that your wedding anniversary was approaching. It would soon be time to reevaluate your marriage with him but if you didn't find anyone and if he didn't find anyone, you wondered what he thought about your idea. One that you had been nurturing for a while now.....

Seokmin could feel your eyes burning into his back and knew you wanted to say something. By the time he walked into the kitchen you were already done with your orders which meant the last 20 minutes he spent cooking, you were simply lost in thought about something. Something Seokmin had a feeling he knew.

Ever since a month ago, when the restraining order against your ex was finally approved and the threat on you had been lifted, Seokmin had a gnawing feeling about the future of this relationship. You were not interested in a marriage to begin with, now you didn't have a reason to continue in it either. That could only mean one thing - you were going to leave him. The time had come.

Seokmin held his breath as you approached him,

"Seokmin, I was thinking...."

Please don't say you wanna leave me. Please don't say it. Please don't say it.

"It's been almost 3 years since we've gotten married and had Aera. She's not all grown up yet, but she's grown up quite a bit and....."

Please. Please. Please.

"I was thinking maybe it's time we...."

Seokmin took a deep breath preparing himself. This was it.

"Get a cat or something?"

Seokmin turned to you surprised. "A what?"

"A cat, or a dog if you prefer that, any pet actually."

"So you're not leaving me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean" Seokmin mentally smacked himself, rambling to his defence. "You're.... leaving that decision to me? To get a pet? Why? I mean why a pet, I mean why so suddenly?"

You sighed, leaning against the counter. "Aera constantly needs me around because she gets bored. She's young, she needs company and I'm hoping a pet can give her that? I mean obviously the better option would be if we.... I mean if she....."

Seokmin looked at you confused. "If she?"

Well, fingers crossed, here we go.

"I don't know, could have a sibling? Kids need company to grow up and I think it would be nice if Aera could have a little brother or sister....."

Seokmin stared at you, his expression unreadable before his voice softened, leaving him uncertain. "Do you really want that? Another child?"

"I think I'm ready for another one?..... if you want one that is." You add quickly. "I don't want you to feel compelled or anything. We can still just get a pet-"

"No..." Seokmin shook his head, clearing his throat before continuing. "I don't mind. I don't mind having another child. It's just....I don't know how complicated the adoption process is-"

"Oh." You scratched the back of your neck. This conversation was a lot harder than you had anticipated. "I wasn't thinking about adoption actually..... I mean it's great and everything but I was thinking more of a child of my own..... our child."

Seokmin blinked rapidly. "O-ours?"

"I mean we already have one together, I think it'll be a lot less complicated if I were to have another one that.....you be the father?" 

.

.

.

That would not make anything less complicated.

"Your silence is scaring me Seokmin. There's no compulsion, it's only if you want. I might be the one giving birth but your preference matters too. If you don't want this then we'll just forget this conversation ever happened."

It was ridiculous you thought he might not want a future, a bigger family with you when he had been dreaming of this for the last 3 years.

"I love Aera more than anything in this world. If I could have another child that's part me, especially if it'll make Aera happy, of course I'd want that. It's just...."

"What?"

"How...." He refused to meet your questioning eyes. "How are you and supposed to.....you know?"

"Oh." Of course there would be a discussion about the process and of course you're flushed a violent shade of pink. "I uh looked into that, there's a few fertility clinics here that do a procedure called IUI, intrauterine insemination or something like that, basically it's an artificial process of.....sex?"

"Ah....." He nods slowly. "That sounds-"

You wanted to know what he's thinking, you wanted to know what he wanted but the doorbell rang, pulling you away from the conversation. Knowing the delivery person was here for today's orders you quickly excused yourself and turned your attention to your work, bringing out the orders, taking them down to load the van. By the time you're done and ready to listen to him again, Seokmin has already finished up in the kitchen and has his eyes glued to his phone.

He didn't acknowledge your presence, which is rather odd because Seokmin is always so reactive to you. Realising that he was perhaps not comfortable or in a disagreement with the discussion, you decided to end it and not being it up anymore. Instead, you resorted to cleaning up the mess in the living room, pointlessly might I add, for within minutes, your daughter came barging in, done with her playtime, ready to make a mess again. Before she could topple over the box of toys, Seokmin appeared out of nowhere, swooping her into this arms, protecting your just cleaned zone. He flashed you a smile, continuing to play a game of Aera-plane with her as you hugged your knees and watched them.

Seokmin was a great father and that was the reason you wanted to have another child with him. That and the fact that he was also a great person - one could scour the whole earth and not find a man even half as good as him. Though you had entered this marriage with the idea that it could end anytime, with each passing day, that turned into a strange fear - a fear of him leaving you, especially now that you and Aera were no longer in danger. When even your marriage could not keep your ex away from you, Seokmin decided to take things in a legal direction to finally get him out of the way. Now that all of that was successfully done, the number of things binding this marriage had reduced.

When you discussed the idea of having another baby with your sister, she asked if this was an attempt to add to the list of reasons keeping this marriage together. Oh hell no. If anything it was the exact opposite. Having another child with Seokmin would only lead to one thing - you falling in love with him all over again and him not feeling the same for you yet again. It would make ending this relationship, whenever the time came for it, that much harder. But you knew for Aera this decision made sense - it was only for her sake.

Seokmin and Aera had now switched to the game of Aera-train, the two of them crawling all around the space on their knees, making you laugh at their antics. You grabbed your little girl and pulled her into your lap, smothering her cute face with kisses as she wriggled in your grip. Exhausted, Seokmin lied down beside you, mouthing a thank you.

"How much more playtime is it going to take before you burn all that sugar missy?"

"Hide and seek!" Aera clapped, still not understanding how exhausted the two of you were. "You and daddy hide, I count."

"Aera, you need to shower-"

Not listening, she slipped out of your lap, plastering herself against at wall, closing her eyes.

"One, two-"

"Sweetheart-"

"Seven, ten, twelve-"

Seokmin looked up. "Who the hell is teaching her numbers?"

"Thirty, forty-"

Laughing you quickly pulled Seokmin to his feet, the two of your scrambling to find a place to hide and in the hurry, settling in the tiny gap between the closet and the bathroom, bodies pressed against each other. As the laughter faded, you realised just how close you were, faces inches apart, breath held and heart racing.

Hearts.

With your hands pressed against his pecs, you could feel his racing too.

"Should have hidden in different places huh" Seokmin whispered, earning a short nod from you.

"It's too late. We're stuck, I guess."

Seokmin couldn't tell what exactly you were talking about, somehow it's different. You gulped the phantom lump in your throat, trying to look away but there's only so much you could look at around you. When you looked at him again, he was lost in thought.

"What are you thinking?"

"I uh." Seokmin cleared his throat. "I was reading up about this Intra- thing."

Oh. So the conversation wasn't done. "Uh huh."

"It's expensive."

"Yeah it is...." You had already done all the research for it of course. "Which sucks because it doesn't have a very high chance of success either."

"Not to mention, it requires many tests and appointments."

"Yeah, it would interrupt with both our work schedules too."

"Exactly.....so I'm not sure if it's really the best option for us?"

You looked at him straight in the eye. What was going on in his head? Why was a completely wild thought entering your head?

You nodded slowly. "Maybe we should look into the alternatives. Try and do a little more research?"

"And find an option that's affordable, efficient, and not very time consuming."

"That would be ideal.....I wonder what that could be."

Both of you knew what it could be. Both of you knew exactly what it could be.

"The only way I can think of is," You tried not to let your voice shake. "The way everyone usually does this...."

Seokmin frowned, "There are other ways?"

How could a man this fine be this stupid?

"The way we already made a child Seokmin."

Just the memory of that night sends blood rushing down Seokmin’s body. That was not an event of loving baby making.

"You want to do t-that again?"

Your stomach literally wanted to hurl its contents. "Do you?"

"I mean," He could feel the sweat drip down the groove of his back. "If that's the best way to have another child. It does seem like the practical, logical, reasonable choice."

"Yeah..." You met his eyes, hoping to god he could tell you were lying. "That's the only reason why...."

The thick, unresolved tension makes you shiver, prompting you to shift in the space, and Seokmin's arms immediately grabbed you at the waist to keep you steady - he was terrified that the secret in his pants would expose him for what he truly was.....absolutely and fatally, gone for you.

If you had ever given him even the slightest indication that you wanted him, Seokmin knew for a fact that he would have given you a whole lot of babies by now - there was nothing more he wanted than a life and a family with you. But you only ever smiled at him sweetly, never letting on anything further and Seokmin was okay with that too. He was okay with whatever you wanted. Now you wanted him to put another baby in you and he had no idea how he was going to stay sane doing that. Or after that.

"Speaking of which...." You pulled away from him, looking concerned. "Where's the child we already made?"

It had to have been a while by now and Aera was usually much better than this at hide and seek, making the two of you panic and rush out of your hiding space, calling out to her. In less than a minute, Seokmin found her curled up in the couch fast asleep, snoring away.

You groaned. "She hasn't showered or eaten-"

"Shh, it's okay." Seokmin crouched beside her, attempting to carry her to her bed. "We can just-"

"Caught you!"

Much to Seokmin's disappointment, your daughter jumped out of the couch, kicking her feet, ecstatic that she had him fooled. You covered your mouth so Seokmin could not see you struggling to hold back your laughter as Aera ran around chanting, caught you, caught you.

"Well isn't she a smartass." You noted, trying to soothe his annoyance.

"Yeah, we need to stop letting her hang out with Yoon Jeonghan." He muttered as he picked up his running daughter, seating her on the side of his hip, squeezing her cheeks. "And I caught you so now playtime is over. It's shower time, you little pig."

Aera whined, trying to reach for you to save her and you stepped back. "No, no, you've done enough today. You've to sleep soon-"

"Not sleepy." She groaned, snuggling her head into Seokmin’s neck, as he walked away, shaking his head.

"You're not gonna let mommy and daddy sleep tonight are you?"

You froze in the middle of the hall hearing his words.

Tonight?

You were not really sure what came over you when you suggested having sex again to make another baby. Maybe it was the proximity of the space or the fact that he was already so on board with the idea or just because you've been wanting to jump this man for 3 years now. You don't really know. You didn't know how you were even going to sleep with him just one more time. Or how to handle things after that. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Of course it was a terrible idea. And it was only further proven when you grabbed Aera's night clothes and walked into the bathroom to find both father and daughter settled in the bathtub, engaged in a waterfight, making you raise your eye brows in question.

"She put water all over me!" Seokmin justified as Aera covered her face in soap bubbles, hiding from you. "It's not my fault, she insisted I get in with her."

Yes but why did he have to take his shirt off for that? And why did your eyes have to follow those little rivets of water running down his bicep and chest? You tore your gaze away from him and quickly pulled your child out of the tub, and the moment you set her down, she giggled and bolted, making you sigh.

"I'm banning sugar in this house." Seokmin laughed.

"She usually gets sleepy after a meal." You threw him a towel too and looked away as he caught it. "Shouldn't disturb us too much tonight."

Seokmin stared at you as you left. Tonight?

You wanted to do this tonight? Hell no. He needed time. He needed to convince himself to not let this one time raises his hopes, to not let himself fall more miserably in love with you. How was he ever going to do that? Everything you did only made him that much more whipped for you. Even now, after he washed himself up and walked out, he saw you softly drying Aera's hair, singing her favourite song, and leaned against the door frame, smiling fondly. Just the thought of another child, part you part him, running across this space made his heart swell with joy. He really wanted that.

When you meet his eye and smiled, he returned it, ignoring his racing heart and walked off to heat the sauces for dinner - a non spicy one for Aera and another spicy one for the two of you. Your eyes followed him, noticing that he had donned a new pair of grey sweatpants which were hanging low on his hips, coupled with a white tank top that was doing a terrible job of hiding his pecs. God this man wanted to end you.

By the time you put Aera in her baby chair, he had already set everything on the table and true to his word it is the best damn ravioli in the world.  You told him that and that was all the conversation that took place - dinner was unusually silent. Maybe because the both of you had the same set of thoughts running through your minds, both apprehensive about what would go down in the coming few hours. Even Aera had noticed the silence, her head turning between the two of you, her expression confused all through dinner. Yawning, she watched her parents awkwardly move around each other in the kitchen, even more polite and formal than they usually were as they cleaned it up.

You left Seokmin to put Aera to sleep as you headed to the shower to wash up for the night. Staring at the mirror, you stripped out of your clothes, observing everything that had changed over the last three years - you hadn't really cared for the post pregnancy effects on your body but somehow today you were feeling conscious. Taking a deep breath you convinced yourself that it was fine - that this was a one time thing anyways, that this was just to procreate, nothing else. Still, you quickly shaved yourself, used your best smelling soap and wore a new night suit - a pink one, with tiny flowers all over the shirt and shorts.

By the time you returned, Seokmin had already put Aera to sleep and settled in front of the TV, ready to play the next episode of masterchef, the one show the two of you being professionals thoroughly enjoyed. You wondered if you has misread his statement and had unnecessarily readied yourself for tonight and contemplated changing into something different when Seokmin sensed your presence behind him and asked you to hurry up. Biting your lip out of embarrassment, you walked over and settled down on the other end of the couch where you usually sat, not noticing the way his eyes trailed down your body before gulping and looking away.

"You're wearing a new night suit." He observed, avoiding mentioning that he also noticed you smelt different than usual - sweeter, more addicting.

"You're wearing a new track pant too." You added so it didn't seem like you were the only one who was prepared for tonight.

"I.... didn't really notice. Just grabbed the first thing I could find and..." Lies. Pure lies. Seokmin deliberately wore the most loose sweatpants he could find hoping to god it would hide the raging boner he was housing between his legs. Even though he had already jerked off prior to showering to avoid being caught, he knew just the thought of what might happen tonight was enough to bring it back and sure enough, just your scent was enough to do that. He pulled a pillow onto his lap, starting the episode to divert the topic.

As the show continued, the two of you did your usual drill of discussing the recipes, how you'd do it differently and what he'd change to improve it. The thought hadn't stopped running in the back of your mind though, about whether tonight was indeed the night. About who was going to bring it up, how you were going to do....it.

"That guy, he's got a great future as a pâtissier." Seokmin pointed at the screen. "If he ever opens a shop, I bet his dessert will be some of the most in demand in the city." He turned to you smiling. "Unless you enter the business. Then nobody stands a chance."

You laughed a little sadder than you intended to. "Having my own business feels like a once upon a dream now. With Aera now, I'm not sure how I can handle a whole business by myself-"

"Of course you won't be by yourself. I'll be there, with you, for you." He tilted his head. "Always."

"You've always wanted to have a restaurant of your own too. What about your dream?"

"I'm already working in one of the best restaurants in the city. I'm living half of it already. I wish you could live yours too."

How did he always place you before him? Why was he always so good to you?

You turned to face him, leaning against the armrest. "What if we both had one dream? We could open a small business of our own which could feature both my desserts and your food."

"That would work." Seokmin nodded. "But it would require an extensive kitchen, we both need a ton of very different equipment, a lot more investment and time on our hands too. I mean if both of us are busy, with not fixed working hours, who'll take care of the kid?" He paused for a moment before reminding himself and you. "Kids."

Your heart felt like it was in your mouth.

"If they're of school going age, it shouldn't be so hard to handle should it?"

He mirrored your posture, more interested in the prospect now that it seemed possible and you continued.

"I wanted to have my own shop by the time I was 30, which means we have another 6 years for that. Aera will start going to school when she's 5, so there's another 2 years for that."

"Which means if we want our second child to also be of school going age by that time then we should have one by....." Seokmin did the math on his fingers. "Early next year."

You nodded, doing math of your own. "Given it will take 9 months to get one out, it means I have to get pregnant by latest...."

"March." Seokmin concluded, staring at his hands. "Which is this month."

Fuck.

"And given the best time to get pregnant is when I'm most fertile and that's..." You glanced at the date on your phone screen and looked up at him just as he lifted his head. "Now."

The two of you stared at each other in the silence as the end credits of the episode rolled on the screen, the next one waiting to be played.

"Is..." Seokmin took a deep breath. "Is that the future you really want? Running a business together, having 2 kids.... us?"

You really really really wanted that.

You nodded slowly. "If you want it too."

Seokmin took a whole minute to stare at the floor before turning off the TV, submerging the two of you in the dimness of the night lights.

"I do." He tossed the remote aside, slowly meeting your eye. "So, we do this.... right now?"

You glanced around the house. "Well, we are done for the day. All we have left to do is head to bed....."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was really happening?

"Wait," Seokmin panicked. "I don't have any condoms, I'll need to buy-."

"Lee Seokmin."

Oh no. "Yeah?" Had he messed up already? Did you not want to any more?

"We're trying to have a baby."

"I know....." and when the realisation hit, Seokmin felt all the blood leave his brain and shoot straight to his dick.

"So I..... so we're....I'm gonna do this raw?"

You looked at him, just a little amused. "That's kinda how getting pregnant works."

"What if you don't get pregnant?"

"Considering I got pregnant even when we did it with condoms, I don't know if that's going to be such a huge problem."

"Things don't always work out the same right? What if you don't get pregnant?"

"Then....we're going to have to do this till I get pregnant."

"This as in I...." Seokmin held his breath. "We have sex raw and...."

Your stomach flipped inside you. "And you come inside me, yes"

"I'm gonna fucking die." He muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

He looked at your confused face, having not heard him. If you were going to let him re-live this, you deserved it too.

"Well, we have to do this right."

"What right?"

Seokmin ran his hand through his hair knowing he was digging his own grave with this.

"Come here." He tossed the pillow aside and held his hand out, pulling you closer as you took it, guiding you to straddle his lap. Both of you let out a soft groan as you felt his hard length under you and he could feel how soaked you were, through both your shorts and his pants.

"I know we're doing this to get you pregnant but when was the last time you...." slept with someone.

"With you." You confessed. "3 years ago."

Seokmin nodded slowly. "Then it's only right I make sure you feel good."

"What about you?" You stared at his collar bone instead, absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his tank top, wondering what the answer would be. Dreading what it would be.

"With you."

You looked up a little surprised. "You didn't see anyone else? In 3 years?"

"You didn't either."

"I didn't have the time."

"And I didn't have the need." He looked at you so earnestly, you wanted to bury this man in you and never let him go. "I'm happy with my life. I'm happy with Aera, I'm...." He smiled softly. "I'm happy with you. I'm not seeking anything else."

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb across the bone. How did you get so lucky?

"Seokmin." He hummed as you let your hands wrap around his neck. "Hurry up and put a baby inside me."

Groaning, he hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you into his arms with surprising ease. Moving to the room with soft footfall and gently dropping you onto the bed, he watched as looked at him, pupils blown, reminding him of that night all those years ago. Fuck he really wanted to be inside you.

"Move back." He tapped your leg, clambering on the bed slowly as you obeyed, scooting behind, letting him slide his fingers between the elastic of your shorts. "Up."

As you raised your hips, he pulled down both your shorts and your panties in one go, leaving you feeling both strangely exposed and admired.

"You didn't have to." He muttered and you know he's talking about you shaving as he ran his hands up and down your thighs softly, before meeting your eye. "You're unbelievably beautiful, no matter what." A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned to drop a small kiss on your belly.

"Seokmin please..." You whined, pulling him up, unable to take the wait anymore. "Please just...."

"You don't have to beg sweetheart." He dropped another kiss on your forehead, then your jaw. "Let me make you feel good first, then I'll fill you up." His finger slipped between your soaked folds. "....and then again, just to be sure."

You let out the most unholy moan as his words shot straight to your core and his fingers easily found your clit, drawing soft circles, driving you insane in all ways possible. Seokmin looked at you with the softest eyes, laced with a hint of undeniable desire, like he was craving you. "Is it okay if I go down on you?"

Okay? It took all the sanity left in you to nod slowly, like you weren't eagerly throbbing just at the thought of it.

As you propped yourself on your elbows, he slowly slid down between your legs, pulling them over this shoulders, holding back a groan at the sight of the wet mess you'd made - you were dripping and he revelled in it. Eyes still locked with yours, his tongue ran up your folds, making you grip the sheets below, mouth falling open in a not so silent sigh. Fuck you hadn't been touched properly in so long and the fact that it was Seokmin again of all people was making it so much better. You'd been wanting him for way too long now.

"You need to keep it down baby." It took everything in you to turn the moan that left you into a whimper. How on earth were you supposed to that when he was saying such things??? "Our daughter is asleep next door."

You nod hurriedly, lacing your hand through his thick hair, as he went down on your again, smiling against your skin. He knew you needed him, badly, and God he wanted you so much too, he wanted you in entirely.

His nose brushed against your clit, making you almost writhe at the overstimulation, stopped only by the tight grip of his hands around your thighs. Unable to grab much of the sheets with your free hand, you slid it under your shirt, grabbing a boob, squeezing it pathetically as Seokmin watched you, nearly cumming in his pants. Maybe one day he would admit this out loud, but the first year after Aera was born, watching you feed her with your breasts spilling out of your bra always drove him certifiably insane. As pathetic as it sounded, he was jealous of his months old daughter but now..... Seokmin slid his hand up your body, feeling how perfectly your free breast filled his hand, the moan he let go against your clit vibrating through your body, pulling out the sexiest gasp he'd ever heard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were going to be the end of him.

"More." You moaned, pushing your hips up, desperate to be filled. "Seokmin, just a little more-"

And that's when letting go his ministrations on your boob, he brought his hand back down to your entrance, pushing a finger in. And then another. And God, though you were throbbing and practically dying to be filled, the intrusion sent the pain of the stretch shooting up you, making you wince and grab all you had your hands on a lot tighter. Sensing your discomfort, Seokmin stopped immediately, raising himself up, his face hovering over yours, concerned.

"Did I hurt you?" He hadn't touched you in so long, honestly he had no idea how to touch you either - what you liked, what you wanted, he didn't have a clue. He'll learn, he swears if you let him, he'd memorise every small detail, every single sign.

"Just...." You panted, feeling the pain ebb into pleasure. "No, no, you didn't, please don't stop."

Obeying, Seokmin instantly began pumping his fingers, still watching you closely. Under his gaze you felt so exposed, like if he looked a little deeper into your eyes he would see the unbelievable amount of love you had for him. Would that be such a bad thing though?.....

Fisting the material of his tank top, you pulled him down, pressing your forehead against his, letting your moans spill right into his ears. Chest swelling with pride, Seokmin picked up the pace, alternating between scissoring you open and pushing his fingers knuckle deep. Lord why was he so good at this?

Seokmin watched as your breaths got shallow and quick, knowing you were nearly there and brushed his thumb over your clit with just enough pressure to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed, you clenched around him, feeling wave after wave of pleasure erupt across your being as though every nerve in your body was set on fire. Seokmin stopped but did not pull out, eyes fixed on the way you were a panting mess under him, still struggling to ground yourself.

"That...." You focused your vision on him, a slight smile dancing your lips. "That was fucking good."

"Hmm language." Seokmin laughed, finally and unfortunately pulling his fingers out leaving you empty and wanting. You turned to him as he buried his elbow into the mattress beside your face, propping his head on his hand, glancing down at you. You looked at him and he looked at you, blinking slowly, letting so many unsaid things pass in the silence. Bringing your hand up, you traced the outline of his features with a strange sadness that when all this was over there was going to be distance between the two of you again.

Seokmin needed you to stop that. He needed you stop looking at him, to stop touching him like that, there was only so much he could control himself. He knew he wouldn't get this chance over and over again and he wanted to make it count as much as possible. For you and for him.

"Didn't actually get to eat you out." He muttered in your ear, running his fingers between folds, gathering your release, spreading it around your throbbing hole. "Wanna make you come on my tongue."

To his momentary disappointment, you shook your head. "Some other time." What? "Right now I need you to get inside me."

"Just one-"

He stuttered to a stop when you ran your hand down his torso, palming his erection, it's thickness literally making you salivate. God you wanted him in your mouth so bad but you needed him inside you a lot more desperately. You had slept with him him before, you knew he felt like heaven and you had waited long enough.

"Seokmin please." You squeezed his length, earning a low growl from him. "I want that baby. I really want it." When he moved, hovering over you once again, palms planted beside you, you didn't even realise the words that left you. "I really want you."

Seokmins eyes widened, processing your words, but that was before you clawed the material of his tank top on his back, making him sit up and strip out if it in a flash. He didn't have it in him to get out of the bed and step put of his track pants, opting to pull his length out of them instead, stroking it, spreading his precum all over it. He watched your eyes fixed on his movements, mouth slight open, before you blinked up at him, sighing like you couldn't wait. Mirroring your desperation, Seokmin slowly pushed himself into you, slipping in with a satisfying ease, bottoming out with a groan. Your nails raked his bare back, struggling to ground yourself as he filled that emptiness in you oh so well.

"Move." You moaned, adding a please at the end as though he wouldn't happily bury himself in you again and again. Though he needed a minute. He needed to memorise the feeling of you so warm and tight around him. Fuck you were a dream.

When you whimpered his name again he finally started moving, pulling back a little and pushing himself all the way in again and again. You slid your hands up, hooking them onto his shoulders, feeling every bit of him inside you, walls throbbing with every drag against it. It took everything in Seokmin to not empty himself entirely in you when you clenched around him, slowly approaching your high.

"A little longer." He pleaded. He didn't want this to end yet. "Hang in there a little longer for me beautiful. Come with me."

Then maybe he should have shut his mouth. His words had your heart racing as you felt that familiar build up in you, the one that has your toes curling. Seokmin knew you were going to come soon with the way your kept fluttering around him, squeezing and releasing him in a way that was testing his sanity.

"Shit." He muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pulling your leg, guiding it towards his waist, making you wrap both of them around him, his length reaching spots you didn't even know were possible. It only took a few more strokes of increasing speed before you felt that knot tightening in you rapidly unravel, pushing wave after wave of please coursing through your body, literally blinding you for a minute there.

By the time you regained your composure Seokmin was still in the same position, buried deep inside you, his breath softly caressing the skin of your neck, face hidden from you. You slowly ran your hands up and down his back, letting him know you were okay. In fact you were better than okay, something told you if he fucked you a little longer you would fall apart around him all over again.

"Go on." You tightened your legs around his waist, feeling how he was still so painfully hard inside you. "Do it Seokmin, come inside me."

To your surprise, you felt him sigh, as he attempted to pull out but remained unsuccessful given the way you had locked him against you.

"What's wrong?" You could feel your heart thump in your chest at his uncertainty.

"Can I be honest with you?"

Oh no. "Of course."

Please don't end this.

"I....."

Please don't say you don't want this.

"I don't want you to get pregnant again."

The way you immediately let him go makes him quickly pull up, his eyes meeting yours which look devastated. Was all he wanted just sex? 

"Yet!" He added hurriedly, panicking at your misinterpretation. "I don't want you to get pregnant again yet. Not that I don't want to have another child with you, God no, there's nothing I want more, just....." He gulped looking away. "Not yet."

His words don't offer you much comfort.

"Why not?" You whispered, terrified of where this conversation was going. "I thought we both thought the timing was right...."

"It is. Its absolutely right. It makes absolute sense. It's just..." Did us making this future together not make sense? "I don't know what this is going to make you think of me but I can't keep pretending anymore. It's going to sound incredibly selfish of me but...."

Please please please don't say you don't want me anymore.

"I want you." You looked at him surprised. "I want you entirely. I don't want you to just be the mother of my children, I want you to be my woman. Mine." He sighed, refusing to meet your eye, terrified to learn what you think of him. "If you get pregnant now, it'll be another few months of dealing with the pregnancy, then the baby and I love the thought of that, god I really do, but a part of me just wants you to myself for a while. To have you as my wife, as a partner, to make love to you again and again and-"

"Wait." You stopped him, unable to take the weight of his words. Did this mean he.... "Look at me." You held his face in both your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. God, if only you both had just a little more courage, this could've happened years ago. But clearly, it was still not too late.

"Seokmin."

"Hmm."

.

.

.

.

"I love you."

Your husband's eyes widened with a whole range of emotions. "Y-you do?"

"Fuck Seokmin, I love you so much. I've been in love with you for so long. How could I not? There's not a thing about you that doesn't make my soul crave for you. I just thought I was a burden, a responsibility you had no choice but to fulfill-"

"No choice?" Seokmin looked at you incredulously. "You are who I would pick over and over and over again, till my last breath, God I love you so much it drives me insane-"

Before he can say anything more you pulled him down into what you realised was your first ever kiss, and he immediately kissed you back, like he wanted this more than he needed to breathe. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer like you couldn't bear to part from him as his hands found your waist, pressing you against him. You didn't want to stop, neither did he, until he pulled away, burying his face in your neck, holding you in a tight hug, one that felt so complete and made you realise how perfectly they two of you fit against each other. And that this entire time Seokmin was still inside you, waiting to finish. As you involuntary clenched around him, Seokmin groaned in your ear.

"Lie on your back."

He pulled back at your words, raising an eyebrow. You gently pushed him off you, his back hitting the mattress.

"Off." You patted his pants, and he quickly lifted hips and kicked it off just before you swung your legs around his waist, straddling him. Seokmin let out a low whistle, slightly smiling at the sight of you above him. You ran your hands down his pecs to his abs as he tucked an arm under his head, watching you.

"Hey."

You hummed in response, tilting your head at him.

"I love you." He looked at you earnestly. "I really really do."

"I love you too." You confessed again, leaning down to drop him a quick kiss, your hand wrapping around his length. "But right now, let me make you come big boy."

Seokmin somehow felt himself get more hard, if that was even possible, as you pumped his length in your hand a few times before raising yourself and aligning it against your entrance, slowly sinking down on it. As your mouth dropped open in a silent sigh feeling him fill both your body and your heart, Seokmin moaned, his free hand running up your thigh. Rocking your hips, slowly readjusting to his thickness, you threw your head back, baring your neck in a way that made Seokmin's mouth water. As he tried to bring his hand up to strip you of your shirt, you beat him to it, slowly unbuttoning it and sliding it off your shoulders, allowing Seokmin to sit up and wrap his mouth around your breast. You ran your hand up the nape of his neck, relishing the way his tongue swirled around your nipple, wondering how in the world the two of you managed to keep your hands off each other all these years. You didn't think you could do more than a while without this man's touch from now.

Pulling him from you, you pushed him back once more, holding onto his shoulders for support as you began moving your hips up and down his length. Seokmin cursed under his breath as he gripped the flesh of your ass, guiding your movements. Honestly, he didn't even need you to ride him to finish, just the look on your face, the perfect combination of love and lust, flushed red, slightly shining with sweat, fuck that was enough for him. He held on for as long as he could, hating the idea of not being in you anymore, but when you bit your lower lip, eyes hooded, he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"Fuck, I'm cumming."

To his surprise you immediately pulled yourself off him, stroking his dick in your hand, as he finally lost it, his cum splaying all over his abs and your stomach. He looked at you eyebrows raised as you, collected his cum with a finger and slipped it your mouth.

"Do not." Seokmin groaned at the sight. "Don't make me go again, I might just break you."

You laughed, dropping into the space beside him as he put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"Why though? Wasn't all this for baby number two?"

"Yeah well, I don't think any of what we did was part of traditional baby making."

Seokmin laughed. "You're not wrong there but what about the plan then..."

"I think we can give ourselves some time before we execute our perfect life plan." You cupped his cheek. "Besides, I think everything is perfect already with you by my side."

You had no idea how long the two of made out after that, simply entangled with each other. Maybe it was until you both realised how desperately you needed to shower (though you continued to kiss and giggle under the water.) You only stopped when you stepped out and heard a soft whimpering in the baby monitor, prompting you to quickly get dressed and rush to Aera's room, Seokmin following behind.

He stood, leaning against the door as he watched you lift her into your arms and holding her against your chest.

"Why won't your daughter sleep Mr. Lee?"

"Again, I think she's taken after you Ms.L/n."

"It's Mrs. Lee." You corrected, making him smile.

As he watched you put your child to sleep, be didn't think he could love you any more. Little did he know, in a little over 9 months, mini Seokmin would make his way into this world, and Seokmin loved you more than ever.