#now he loves them all and they sleep in his bed

[creamflix]

IF I WAS A BAD BITCH, I'D WANNA F★CK ME TOO!  ၄၃   gojo satoru x female reader x (female?!) gojo satoru 

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship. threesome featuring m & f gojo. dom! gojo(s), sub reader. bisexual reader. slight cnc/dubcon. marathon sex. fingering. voyeurism + cucking. spanking. humping. finger-sucking. the big three: praise, humiliation and degradation. jealousy-fueled and dare i say competitive sex. oral (f. giving & receiving, m. giving and receiving). p in v, creampies. hair-pulling. clit slapping. overstimulation, mind break. doggy (backshots woohoo!), chain link, tower bridge. lots of aftercare and a happy + crack ending (thank you flix)

happy (early) birthday to the honoured dick one. the strongest in bed. i know his birthday is in december but i needed u all to read this right now. so enjoy nine thousand three hundered words of filth, from me to you, with all the love possible <3. i wrote female gojo with @/owwllly's version in mind, so please show them your love xx this has been my fav threesome fic to write!! dedicated to my pookie daph aka @curtins - there will be a part two !! there will be a part two !! there will be a part two !!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ series masterlist

"so you're telling me... this happened because you couldn’t mind your business?" you deadpan, arms crossed as you stare at two very identical gojo satoru’s in your living room. one of them is busy fiddling with infinity while the other is lounging on your couch like she owns the place — wolfcut, tight black turtleneck, and a smirk that could rival the original's arrogance.

“technically, i was minding my business,” the og gojo protests, leaning back against the wall with his usual, unbothered grin. “baby, ’s not my fault the curse decided to spice things up and give you, like, a bogo deal on me. you're welcome, by the way."

"bogo?" you repeat, staring at him blankly. "buy one, get one? 'toru, this isn’t a trip to the mall — this is a problem."

“problem?!” the female gojo pipes up, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “babe, this is a blessing. look at me — don’t i just scream perfection?” she runs her hands dramatically down her torso, pausing to cup her very impressive pair of tits. “and these? way better than whatever he’s working with.”

“hey!” the og gojo snaps, looking genuinely offended for once. “my pecs are great! they’re sculpted by gods!”

“oh please.” she waves him off, smirking. “you can bench press all ya want, but nothin' competes with these.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “great. now there’s two of you and you’re already competing with each other. this is exactly what my therapist warned me about.”

"your therapist doesn’t even know her," og gojo interjects, before muttering, "probably thinks i'm better."

“knows me?” the female gojo raises a brow, mimicking his exact tone. “honey, i am you — just hotter and with better hair.”

“oh, please, my hair is iconic —”

“only ‘cuz i have it now —”

“okay, shut up, both of you,” you groan, cutting through their bickering. “are we just ignoring the fact that this situation is insane? one of you is going to have to fix this. preferably him,” you gesture to your boyfriend, “because i’m sure as hell not trusting the version of you who discovered boobs for the first time an hour ago.”

"that’s fair,” female gojo shrugs. “i got distracted for a good ten minutes.”

“ten?” og gojo snorts. “please, i bet you’re still distracted.”

“better than looking like an overgrown snow cone —”

“that’s it!” you snap, cutting them off again. “you’re both sleeping on the floor until this gets fixed!”

they stare at you, identical smirks creeping onto their faces. the synchronization is downright creepy.

“what?” you snap.

“you mean we can’t sleep next to you?” female gojo teases, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “oh, baabbyy, don’t be like that. we’ll make it work. one on each side, warm and cozy…”

“dream on!” you yell, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at both of them.

despite your protests, you eventually settle into bed, burying yourself under the covers in hopes that sleep will somehow make this bizarre situation feel a little less insane in the morning. your boyfriend is sulking on the couch — he’s got that kicked puppy look down to a science, complete with dramatic sighs and pointed glances your way every time he fluffs the pillow. you ignore him. you deserve this break.

or at least, you thought you did.

the bed dips behind you, and you freeze, already knowing who it is before she even opens her mouth.

“hey,” female gojo whispers conspiratorially, her voice a softer, almost sultry version of your boyfriend’s usual annoying tone. “girl’s night, right? let’s talk about feelings and, like… skincare or whatever. isn’t that what girls do?”

“go back to the couch,” you mutter, trying not to sound as mortified as you feel.

“oh, come onnn,” she presses, shifting closer. “i’m technically you now. you, me, and him — we’re a team. solidarity and alla that.”

“team or not, you’re still satoru,” you grumble, rolling over to glare at her. “and you’re supposed to be fixing this, not playing barbie dreamhouse with my sanity.”

she gasps, clutching her chest as though you’d just gravely insulted her. “barbie dreamhouse? wow, honey, that’s just rude.”

you sigh, already exhausted, and roll back over, resolutely closing your eyes. “goodnight.”

except she doesn’t leave.

instead, she shuffles even closer, slipping under the covers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice muffled by your pillow.

“it’s called cuddling. girlhood, babe. embrace it.”

you groan, but it’s drowned out by the warmth of her pressing against your back, her arm draping over your waist like she’s done this a hundred times before. the touch is familiar — too familiar — but also distinctly… different. softer, almost delicate, but with that same satoru confidence you’ve grown used to.

you’re about to relax when — oh.

oh no.

that’s definitely her tits pressing against you.

“seriously?” you mutter, feeling your face heat up as you shift uncomfortably.

“what?” she hums innocently, though you can practically hear the smirk in her tone. “they’re natural, by the way. in case you were wondering.”

you roll your eyes so hard they might fall out of your head. “get off me.”

“nah. you’re comfy.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you love it,” she whispers, cuddling closer, her breath warm against the back of your neck.

meanwhile, from the couch, your boyfriend groans dramatically. “wooww, guess i’m not needed anymore! don’t mind me, just a lonely man being replaced by his better half!”

you groan louder this time, burying your face in the pillow. “i hate both of you.”

“you’ll get over it,” female gojo chirps.

you’re not so sure.

you drift into a restless sleep, but it’s not long before something — someone — pulls you back into a groggy haze. at first, you think it’s just the weight of her arm slung over your waist, the kind of innocent touch you’ve grown used to from satoru, only now softer, smaller. 

but then you feel it: nimble fingers ghosting the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your skin with maddening lightness.

your eyes snap open, and before you can twist around, you hear her chuckle — a low, almost predatory sound.

"eaasy, babe," she whispers, her breath hot against your ear as she burrows closer, her chest flush against your back. "don’t wanna wake him, do you?"

your heart skips a beat, half from the sensation of her lips brushing the shell of your ear, half from the realization that your boyfriend is right down the hallway.

“what the hell are you doing?” you hiss, your voice barely audible, but it only makes her grin wider. you can’t see it, but you can feel it in the way her teeth graze your neck, her nose nuzzling against your skin.

“just havin’ a little fun,” she murmurs, her fingers dipping slightly lower, teasing. "you’re sooo uptight. ’s cute."

“stop,” you whisper, though your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. you’re painfully aware of every point of contact — her fingers, her chest pressed against you, the way her legs tangle with yours like she’s been doing this forever.

“oh, come on,” she purrs, lips trailing a featherlight path up your neck. “you can pretend to hate this allll ya want, but she’s kinda telling a different story, babe.”

your breath catches as her fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, and you bite your lip to stifle a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“shhhhh,” she teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “don’t wanna wake him. imagine the tantrum he’d throw.”

“'toru,” you snap in a whisper, barely managing to keep your voice steady, “you’re impossible.”

“she is impossible,” she corrects smugly, emphasizing the distinction. “and you love it.”

you squirm, trying to shift away, but it only earns you a low chuckle and a firmer hold around your waist.

“relax,” she coos, her fingers retreating just enough to drive you insane. “’m just here to keep ya company. whether that means getting a rise out of you or, y’know... edgin’ this pretty lil’ pussy for the rest of the night? your call.”

you swallow hard, caught between indignation and the way her touch sets your nerves on fire.

“make your choice, babe,” she whispers, her voice playful but laced with a dangerous edge.

“just try not to moan too loud. wouldn’t wanna give him ideas.”

you close your eyes, torn between cursing her and praying she doesn’t stop.

this night just got so much longer.

your brain is waging the ultimate war, a full-on battlefield of ethics versus… whatever this situation even is.

is it cheating if it’s your boyfriend’s hot female counterpart? technically, it’s still satoru, right? like, some weird multiverse loophole you could maybe rationalize later when guilt comes knocking. 

but right now, the only thing knocking is your resolve, which is hanging by a thread as those nimble fingers dance along your clothed slit, teasing just enough to drive you to madness.

you bite down on your lip, a mix of frustration and need building as she leans in closer, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "you’re thinkin’ so loud, honey. wanna share with the class?”

“shut up,” you hiss, squirming as her fingers dip a little lower, just brushing the edge of your clothed clit.

she laughs softly, the sound rich and teasing, as if she’s enjoying how much you’re struggling. “ohhh, ya gonna give in, aren’t cha?” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “ya so cute when you’re pretending to resist.”

your breathing hitches as she presses her palm against your clothed cunt, her fingers tracing delicate, torturous circles. it’s enough to make you curse the heavens for whatever cursed logic landed you here but also enough to make you moan softly despite yourself.

“fuck it,” you mutter under your breath, the words more to yourself than to her, and you stop fighting, letting her fingers dip inside your panties.

her grin is unmistakable — so much like satoru’s but with an edge of mischief that’s uniquely her own. “there she is,” she whispers, and her fingers find your clit, circling it with the kind of precision that makes your whole body tense.

“jesus christ,” you gasp, your hand shooting out to grip the sheets as she keeps her pace slow, deliberate, almost cruel in its teasing.

“nah,” she chuckles, her lips brushing against your neck, “just satoru. but you can scream my name later if ya want.”

you stifle a groan, your mind racing between indignation and the hot, electric sensation pooling low in your stomach.

“careful,” she teases, voice low and smug. “wouldn’t wanna wake him, would you? unless…” she pauses, fingers pressing a little harder, “...you want him to watch.”

you choke on a mix of a gasp and a protest, twisting slightly to glare at her, but the sharp look you’re going for is lost in the haze of heat clouding your brain.

“you’re the worst,” you manage to whisper, though it lacks any real bite.

“and yet, here you are,” she hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “enjoying every second of it.”

she’s not wrong, and that realization alone might kill you.

you never thought you’d find yourself in a situation like this — not that you were opposed to the idea. women were great, truly a gift to the world.

but how many people could say they were being finger fucked by their boyfriend’s female counterpart? it was such a specific, cursedly unique predicament that you almost wanted to laugh.

almost.

if you weren’t too busy biting back a moan as her fingers worked you with an infuriating rhythm.

the obscene sounds were soft, but in the quiet of the room, they echoed like a symphony of sins you’d be reckoning with later. and when her other hand pressed against your lips, fingers tapping lightly, you didn’t even hesitate.

you took them into your mouth, sucking with enough fervor to have her humming appreciatively behind you.

“oh, you’re full of surprises,” she purred, her tone dripping with amusement. her nails — surprisingly manicured and oddly elegant — scraped against your tongue, and you felt a shiver crawl down your spine. “never took ya for someone with an oral fixation. should i be jealous of him?”

you glared up at her weakly, but it only made her grin grow wider.

“no need to get all pouty, baby,” she teased, pulling her hand away with a wet pop! before dragging her nails down the side of your face in mock affection. “you’re already givin' me plenty of attention.”

“you’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, your voice muffled by a moan as her fingers curled inside you just right, hitting a spot that made your legs tremble.

“and yet, here you are,” she countered smugly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “suckin' my fingers like you’re starved for it. but don’t worry pretty, i’ve got plenty to give.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, torn between mortification and the unbearable heat flooding your veins.

“close enough,” she chuckled, her lips brushing against your ear as her fingers continued their relentless, torturous pace. “but you can scream that louder later. just remember to keep it down for him, yeah? wouldn’t wanna give him a heart attack.”

as if on cue, you heard your boyfriend shift on the couch down the hallway, groaning in his sleep.

her grin pressed against your skin, smug as ever. “looks like we’re on a time limit. better make it count, babe.”

it’s almost like she wants to be caught.

you can feel it in the deliberate pace of her fingers, the smug curl of her lips pressed against your ear, and the way her voice dips just low enough to make you think she’s daring him to walk in.

what’s he gonna do, anyway? accuse you of cheating? on him?

with him?

the thought’s absurd, hilarious even, if not for the way your brain is too scrambled to dwell on it.

“you’re so tense,” she purrs, her tone that perfect mix of teasing and filth, her fingers quickening their pace with a precision that’s downright sinful. “relax, ma. you’re doing so well f’me.”

“sh-shut up,” you hiss, though it lacks conviction, your voice shaky and edged with desperation. the familiar, blinding heat in your stomach coils tighter, threatening to snap as her movements grow more deliberate.

but she doesn’t shut up — of course, she doesn’t.

“awww, don’t get shy on me now,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear as her lips ghost along your jawline. her words spill out like poison dipped in honey, filthy and deliberate.

“you’re sooo close, aren’t ya? can feel it, babe. you’re twitching around my fingers. think you’ll cum before he wakes up?”

you choke on a whimper, your head spinning as her words sink deep into your hazy mind. the wet, obscene shlick, shlick sounds of her fingers working you only makes it worse, the sound bouncing off the walls and mocking any remaining shred of dignity you have left.

“don’t fight it,” she coos, nipping lightly at your earlobe. “you wanna cum sooo bad. just do it, babe. be a good girl for me.”

the knot in your stomach pulls impossibly tight, her voice the final push as she angles her fingers just right, and you’re gone.

you tremble, your hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline as your release crashes through you in waves so intense that you’re outright whimpering. the sound spills out before you can bite it back, and she takes full advantage, her fingers slowing just enough to draw it out, prolonging your undoing.

“thaaat’s it,” she hums, satisfaction dripping from her voice. “good girl.”

you gasp for air, your body slack against hers as she finally pulls her hand away, leaving you boneless and dazed.

“see?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, her tone still annoyingly smug. “told ya'd like it.”

before you can snap back, you hear a groan from the hallway — your boyfriend stirring on the couch.

“oops,” she whispers, her voice featherlight but laced with mischief as she leans closer to your ear. “think he heard that?”

⋆˙⟡ —

gojo was not having it.

being sentenced to the couch while he — or she — got to hog your warmth? outrageous.

what kind of half-assed excuse was "girl’s night" anyway? he was the epitome of versatility! gender fluidity incarnate! hell, he’d rock a pair of heels better than most and still kick ass.

he rolled onto his back with a huff, staring at the ceiling and debating his next move.

screw it. he wasn’t about to let himself — herself — win. this was his girlfriend, damn it.

with a frustrated groan, he dragged himself off the couch, trudging down the hallway. barefoot and irritated, he rehearsed what he’d say as he barged in, fully intent on dragging her ass out and reclaiming his rightful spot in your bed.

but the second he opened the door, all those thoughts evaporated.

his jaw dropped, his cerulean eyes widening behind the curtain of his disheveled hair.

there you were, his sweet, pliant girlfriend, lying there with your head tilted back, cheeks flushed, and lips wrapped around fem gojo’s fingers.

and the smell — fuck, the smell of you hung thick in the air, so sweet and heady it made his knees damn near buckle. it hit him like a freight train, and with it came a mix of emotions he couldn’t even begin to untangle: shock, irritation, a twinge of jealousy, and, much to his own annoyance, arousal.

“are you serious right now?” his voice rang out, low and sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room.

you froze, your eyes snapping open as you turned to look at him. fem gojo, on the other hand, smirked, her fingers lazily slipping out of your mouth with an exaggerated pop!

“oh, hey,” she drawled, utterly unbothered by his presence. “took ya long enough.”

“what the hell is this?” he gestured vaguely at the two of you, his gaze bouncing between your guilty expression and her smug one.

“girl’s night,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone so casual it made his eye twitch.

“girl’s night?” he repeated, his voice climbing an octave. “girl’s night doesn’t include —” he waved his hands, “ —whatever this is!”

“reelaxx, dude,” she cooed, sitting up slightly but still keeping one possessive hand on your thigh. “you’re overreacting.”

“overreacting?!”

you flinched at his tone, but she didn’t budge, only grinning wider.

“jealous, are we?” she teased, leaning back into the pillows like she owned the place. “don’t worry, there’s plenty of her to go around.”

his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “you think this is funny?”

“a little,” she admitted, cocking her head. “but it’s fun when you’re mad.”

he stormed over to the bed, yanking the covers off with dramatic flair.

“get out,” he demanded, pointing toward the door.

“make me,” she challenged, her grin growing downright wicked.

oh, that was it.

“fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “you wanna play games? let’s play.”

in one swift motion, he was crawling onto the bed, caging both of you in with his presence. his gaze flicked to you, burning and possessive, before turning back to her.

“you started this,” he growled, “so you better keep up.”

she raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “oh, i’ll keep up.”

you swallowed hard, caught between their clashing egos and the growing heat simmering between the three of you.

this was about to get very interesting.

his hand clamps around your neck before you can even register what’s happening, yanking you into his lap like you weigh nothing. the surprised squeal that escapes your lips is muffled instantly as his mouth crashes onto yours in a kiss so sloppy, so overwhelming, it leaves you gasping. his tongue dominates yours, hot and unrelenting, and you barely have time to catch your breath before he pulls away, his next words like a slap to your dignity.

“you’re such a fuckin' mess,” he growls, his free hand coming down sharply on your ass with a loud smack!, the sting sends a jolt through you, and your body involuntarily arches against him. “lettin' her get her hands allll over you like a desperate little slut.”

you whimper, the sound earning a low, derisive laugh from him as he lands another smack!, his hand squeezing the soft flesh just to watch it jiggle.

“you like that, huh?” he sneers, his grip tightening around your neck just enough to make your head spin. “bet you’re fuckin' soaked, aren’t cha? letting anyone who’ll touch you have a go. pathetic.”

“not anyone,” fem gojo pipes up from her spot on the bed, her voice laced with amusement. “just me. well, technically you. so you’ve only got yourself to blame, babe.”

he shoots her a glare, his lips curling into a snarl, but she doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. in fact, she looks downright entertained, one hand lazily palming her tits through her shirt, her grin smug as she watches the scene unfold.

“don’t mind me,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “’m just enjoyin' the view. gotta say, though, you’ve got good taste.”

you shudder at the low hum in her voice, your face burning as her gaze flicks to where your body presses against his, her smirk deepening.

“shut up,” he snaps, his hand sliding down to your hip to yank you harder against him. “this is my show now.”

“oh, by all means,” she chuckles, leaning back on her elbows as her fingers toy her nipples. “don’t let me stop you. though, technically, this is still me giving her what she wants.”

he growls, his grip on you tightening as he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes narrowing. “you’re mine,” he hisses, the words like a brand against your skin. “doesn’t matter what fucking form i’m in. you get that?”

you nod weakly, your body trembling as his other hand lands another sharp smack! to your ass, drawing a coo of delight from his female counterpart.

“good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours before claiming them again, rough and punishing.

“now, let’s see if you can prove it.”

“oh, this is getting good,” fem gojo says with a delighted laugh, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she settles in to watch the show — completely unbothered and clearly relishing every second of it.

⋆˙⟡ —

you’re losing it. outright losing it.

it was bad enough when gojo insisted on doing you in front of the mirror, forcing you to watch as he destroyed every last shred of your dignity.

but this? this was next level.

having someone else watch — and not just anyone, but the female version of him, sitting there with that same smug smirk plastered across her face as she enjoyed the show — this wasn’t on your bingo card for the year.

and yet, you couldn’t lie to yourself. the heat pooling between your legs was unmistakable, your slick soaking through the fabric of your panties and seeping onto his clothed crotch. the mess you were making was evident, each grind against him creating an obscene wet sound that seemed to echo in the room.

“oh, babe,” fem gojo moaned, her head tilting back as her hands finally slid under her shirt, teasing the plush swell of her chest. “are ya sure you’re not doin' this f'me? ‘cause this is better than any mirror show.”

“shut it,” male gojo snapped, his lips pulling away from yours, a string of spit connecting you as he shot her a glare. “you’re lucky i haven’t kicked your ass out yet.”

“please,” she purred, rolling her nipples between her fingers with a soft moan, her smirk growing wider. “you’re not kicking me out of anything. besides —” her gaze flicked to you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, “ — she doesn’t seem to mind me being here. do you, pretty?”

you whimpered, the humiliation and arousal swirling together in a heady cocktail that made it impossible to think straight.

“answer her,” male gojo growled, his hand sliding down to grab your ass, forcing you to grind harder against him. “or are you too dumb to use your words?”

“i — i —” your voice broke into a soft moan, your hands clutching his shoulders for support as you buried your face in his neck, unable to meet her eyes.

“look at you,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “such a good girl, falling apart like that. and here i thought you were the composed one.”

“don’t get used to it,” male gojo bit out, yanking you back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and commanding. “you’re mine, got it? doesn’t matter if it’s her or me watching. you’re still only ever gonna fall apart for me.”

“you’re so possessive,” fem gojo teased, her voice laced with mockery as her hands continued their lazy exploration under her shirt. “'s cute, honestly. but you can’t deny it’s a little hot watching her fall apart like that.”

“you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he snapped, but the irritation in his voice was edged with something else, something darker, like her words were getting to him too.

“oh, i know when,” she said with a sultry grin, her fingers tweaking her nipples with a sharp intake of breath. “but where’s the fun in that?”

you gasped as his hips jerked up against you, the friction sending another wave of heat through your already overstimulated body.

“don’t get any ideas,” he growled, his attention snapping back to you, his grip tightening on your hips. “you’re not done until i say you are.”

“god,” fem gojo moaned softly, her hands sliding down her cunt as she watched you both. “if this is how you treat her in front of me, i can’t imagine what you’re like when you’ve got her all to yourself.”

her words only seemed to spur him on, his lips crashing into yours again, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before he pulled away just enough to whisper against your mouth.

“don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “we’ll make sure she knows exactly what it feels like to belong to both of us.”

the promise in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and the look in fem gojo’s eyes made it clear she had no intention of being a passive observer for long.

clothes hit the floor — or in your case, were outright shredded by your boyfriend’s impatient hands. the sound of ripping fabric and your startled gasp barely registered over the muffled curses coming from fem gojo, who was too distracted fumbling with her own shirt, her needy arousal making her hands clumsy.

“damn it,” she muttered under her breath, finally managing to toss her shirt aside. “you’d think i’d be good at undressing myself by now.”

“could’ve fooled me,” male gojo quipped with a sharp grin, not even glancing her way as he manhandled you into position. “i could’ve stripped you in two seconds flat.”

“yeah, yeah,” she shot back, rolling her eyes as her shorts hit the floor. “maybe i wanted to take my time.”

he didn’t reply. instead, his hands clamped down on your waist, and before you could even process what was happening, you found yourself being flung off his lap. you landed on your stomach, a surprised cry escaping your lips as your face ended up inches away from fem gojo’s already glistening cunt.

the sweet, heady scent of her arousal flooded your senses, making your head spin.

“oh?” she cooed, leaning back on her elbows and spreading her legs a little wider, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “is this your way of apologizing? putting her in prime position f'me?”

“shut up,” male gojo snapped, his voice sharp as his hands gripped your hips again, pulling them up so your ass was in the air. “she’s here to learn who she belongs to.”

“sure,” fem gojo said, clearly unconvinced as her fingers trailed teasingly along the inside of her thighs. “and if she just so happens to learn how to make me feel good in the process, well, that’s just a bonus, hm?”

you whimpered, your mind spinning as you tried to ground yourself, but the sharp snap of your boyfriend’s hips against you derailed every coherent thought.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he hissed, his pace unrelenting as he pounded into you from behind. “ya so quiet now. where’s all that pretty whinin' you were doing earlier?”

“h-her mouth’s busy,” fem gojo chimed in with a laugh, her hand sliding into your hair to guide your face closer to her. “or at least, it should be. come on, ma. show me what ya got.”

you hesitated, your face burning with a mix of humiliation and arousal, but a sharp smack! on your ass from male gojo left you gasping.

“don’t keep her waiting,” he growled, jealousy dripping from every word as his nails dug into your skin. “you were so eager to let her touch you before. let’s see how you like being used.”

“god,” fem gojo moaned softly as your tongue tentatively flicked over her slick folds, the taste of her flooding your senses. “she’s so good, isn’t she?”

he scoffed, his thrusts growing harsher, each one making your body jolt forward against her. “she’s good because i made her that way,” he bit out, his voice low and possessive. “don’t forget who she comes back to every night.”

“we’ll see about that,” she teased, her fingers tightening in your hair as her hips rolled against your mouth. “if she keeps this up, she might be spending a few more nights with me instead.”

“over my dead body,” he snarled, his hand reaching around to toy with your clit, the rough circles of his fingers sending shockwaves through your body.

you whimpered against her, the vibrations drawing a shuddering gasp from her lips.

“oh, fuck,” she moaned, her head tilting back as her free hand slid up to tweak her nipple. “you’re gonna make me cum, babe. keep goin' —don’t stop.”

male gojo’s hand tightened on your hip, his rhythm faltering slightly as he let out a low, guttural growl.

“she’s not coming for you,” he spat, leaning down until his chest was flush against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “she’s coming because of me.”

“whatever you need to tell yourself,” fem gojo panted, her voice laced with amusement and ecstasy as her hips bucked against your face. “but we both know who she’s really falling apart for right now.”

your thoughts were spiraling. absolutely spiraling.

how the hell were you supposed to explain this?

my boyfriend’s giving me the most insane backshots of my life while i’m eating out the female version of him.

except… she wasn’t just “him” anymore. she was her, right? so does that make her your girlfriend? was it cheating? was it some weird alternate-universe poly thing?

“ugh, no time to think,” you muttered under your breath, your words muffled as you dragged your tongue along fem gojo’s slit.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” fem gojo purred, her hand tightening in your hair as her thighs quivered under your grip. “don’t stop on my account. you’re doing so good.”

“oh, don’t stroke her ego,” male gojo snapped, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that had your entire body jolting forward, your face pressing impossibly closer to fem gojo’s dripping cunt. “she’s not that good yet.”

“jealous much?” fem gojo teased, her voice lilting and smug as she rolled her hips against your mouth. “she’s got me riiight on the edge, babe. maybe you should let her focus instead of barking orders like you’re the only one who matters here.”

“focus?” he sneered, leaning down until his chest was pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “she’s too busy falling apart to focus. look at her — her hands are shaking.”

you whimpered at his words, your hands trembling as you tried your best to keep fem gojo’s thighs spread wide.

“awwww, baby,” she cooed, her fingers stroking your hair gently, a stark contrast to the vulgar praise spilling from her lips. “don’t listen to him. you’re doing amazing. so eager, so pliant — just like i knew you’d be.”

“pliant, huh?” male gojo growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “is that what you think this is? you think she’s here for you?”

“she’s here for both of us,” fem gojo shot back, her smirk widening as she tugged your hair, forcing you to look up at her. “right, babe? tell him how much you like making me feel good.”

you tried to answer, but the words were swallowed up by a moan as male gojo’s hand snaked around to rub tight, merciless circles against your clit.

“she doesn’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low and dark, laced with jealousy. “her body’s doing allll the talkin'. look at the mess she’s making.”

“maybe that’s because you’re being so rough,” fem gojo said, rolling her eyes even as her thighs trembled against your face.

“or maybe —” her voice dropped, dripping with faux sweetness as her smirk turned wicked, “ — it’s 'cause she likes me better.”

that set him off.

with a low, guttural growl, he pulled you back sharply, forcing you to arch against him as he slammed into you with a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as his fingers dug into your hips. “tell her who you belong to.”

“oh, don’t make her choose,” fem gojo said, her tone mockingly sweet. “she’s doin' so well for both of us. aren’t cha, babe?”

you whimpered, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form a coherent response, and she laughed, low and sultry, her fingers sliding along your jaw to tilt your slick-covered face up.

“poor thing,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “don’t worry. you don’t have to pick. we’ll just take turns.”

male gojo’s hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to meet his blazing gaze.

“no,” he growled, his jealousy boiling over as his hips snapped against yours. “she’s mine.”

“ours,” fem gojo corrected, her voice smug as she ran her tongue along your flushed cheek, laughing when he snarled in response.

“dream on,” he spat, his possessiveness evident in every word, every movement, every sharp thrust.

and you? you were somewhere in the middle of it all, lost in the overwhelming heat of them, the push and pull of their jealousy, their praise, their relentless need to claim you.

⋆˙⟡ —

the room at two in the morning was a symphony of chaos and filth, the soundtrack of your life choices. gojo’s low muttering against his breath, some mix of cocky praise and jealous snarling, occasionally punctuated with a sharp smack! to your ass. your muffled whimpers and gasps as your face stayed buried between fem gojo’s legs, and her breathy, high-pitched praises as she tugged on your hair like she owned you.

“thaaat’s it, babe,” fem gojo cooed, her fingers tightening in your hair. “s'good f'me, aren’t cha? suuccch a good girl.”

wait, hold on. fem gojo pulling your hair? wasn’t that supposed to be a boyfriend gojo thing?

before your brain could unravel that disturbing yet arousing conundrum, she yanked hard, pulling your face impossibly closer. your nose pressed rudely against her clit, and the sudden pressure had her legs trembling around your head.

“oh — fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whimpered, her usually smug voice cracking as her hips bucked involuntarily.

and then it happened.

you barely had time to process her thighs clamping down around your ears, muffling everything but the obscene sounds of her unraveling. warm liquid gushed against your lips, your chin, even dribbling down your neck, as fem gojo outright squirted.

“oh my god,” you thought, frozen in shock even as your boyfriend’s hips snapped sharply into yours again, jarring you forward for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

“holy shit,” male gojo muttered, his voice equal parts awe and irritation as he caught sight of his counterpart’s unrestrained climax. “you fuckin' squirted? that’s my thing!”

fem gojo, still coming down from her high, let out a breathless laugh, her legs falling limp as she sprawled back on the bed.

“looks like your girl’s a fast learner,” she teased, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

“learner, my ass,” he shot back, a sharp thrust making you moan against fem gojo’s overstimulated folds. “i trained her to be this good.”

“uh-huh,” fem gojo drawled lazily, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. “then why’d she just make me squirt first? sounds like she’s got a natural talent you couldn’t teach.”

“shut up,” he growled, his pace picking up as he slammed into you harder, clearly trying to reassert dominance.

you, meanwhile, were somewhere between mortification and pride.

first time eating someone out, and they squirted. that was definitely going on the mental highlight reel of your life — even if it was your boyfriend’s female counterpart.

you figured you might as well keep going with fem gojo. after all, your boyfriend had the stamina of a goddamn bull and a petty streak longer than your to-do list. no way he was letting you off easy after everything tonight.

lucky you, though — he’d also trained you well enough to cum at the same time as him. how lovely.

…ignoring the fact that your current position was utterly humiliating. your back arched up so prettily, your face now smooshed between fem gojo’s outrageously, illegally hot rack.

“suck,” she demanded, her voice dripping with the same playful authority you usually heard from your boyfriend, but with a distinctly feminine lilt that had you shivering.

“oh, don’t act like you’re in charge,” gojo snapped from behind you, his thrusts growing sharper as if to punctuate his annoyance. “you’re just here for the ride.”

“and you’re here throwing a tantrum,” fem gojo shot back, her smirk evident in her tone as her hands pressed you deeper into her chest. “you’re the one that left her unsupervised.”

you barely registered their bickering. your head was swimming, lost in the overwhelming heat of fem gojo’s body and the relentless rhythm of your boyfriend behind you. your tongue flicked over her hardened nipple, drawing a satisfied gasp from her lips as she arched into you.

“good giirrl,” fem gojo purred, her fingers threading through your hair again, keeping your face buried against her. “you’re learning so fast.”

“don’t praise her for that!” gojo barked, his voice tinged with frustration even as he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “she’s mine, not yours, so quit actin' like ya got a claim on her!”

“if she’s yours, then why’s she so eager to listen to me?” fem gojo teased, her breath hitching as your tongue swirled around her sensitive nipple.

“you wanna see who she listens to?” he growled, leaning over you as his hand snaked around your waist, his fingers circling your clit in quick, punishing strokes.

that did it. the tension coiling low in your stomach snapped, and you came with a muffled cry against fem gojo’s chest, your whole body trembling as pleasure washed over you.

at the same time, gojo’s hips stuttered against yours, his grip tightening as he groaned through gritted teeth, spilling into you with one last deep thrust.

the room fell silent except for your ragged breathing and fem gojo’s low chuckle as she trailed her fingers through your hair.

“aww,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “looks like we both won, huh?”

“we?” gojo barked, glaring at her over your back. “you’re lucky i didn’t kick your ass out of this bed halfway through.”

“lucky?” she repeated, her smirk widening as she leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “please, babe. i’ve got her attention. you’re just here to keep things interesting.”

gojo had had enough. sure, he’d made you see stars, made you fall apart on his dick like he always did. and yeah, he’d just had his own finish, but that didn’t matter.

he was greedy. always greedy.

his icy blue eyes darted to fem gojo, still lounging smugly with that shit-eating grin plastered across her pretty face. oh, he hated seeing his own smugness reflected like that.

“alright,” he huffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair before cracking his neck. “you wanna play games? fine. hold her for me.”

“oh?” fem gojo purred, clearly intrigued, though she raised an eyebrow. “what’s this now?”

“don’t ask questions, just do it,” he snapped, his tone sharp but impatient.

to your surprise — and maybe horror — fem gojo complied, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you back against her chest, locking you in place.

“good,” gojo muttered, his gaze dropping to your already trembling body. his lips quirked into a devilish smirk as he cracked his knuckles.

“now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice saccharine and low as he leaned down to meet your wide-eyed gaze, “you’re gonna give me six more. f'good luck. for my six eyes. makes sense, right?”

“s-six?” you stammered, your voice barely audible as you squirmed in fem gojo’s hold.

“don’t pass out before number three, okay?” fem gojo chimed in, her breath tickling your ear as she pressed a playful kiss to your temple.

“oh, she won’t,” gojo assured her, his tone all cocky confidence as his fingers found your oversensitive clit, circling it slowly, almost mockingly. “i’ve trained her too well for that.”

“you’re insane,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his movements picked up, sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body.

“and you love it,” he shot back, grinning as your hips bucked involuntarily.

“she’s already shakin',” fem gojo mused, her hands holding you firmly in place as you writhed in her grip. “think she can even make it to six?”

“she’ll make it,” gojo said confidently, his fingers dipping lower to press inside you.

you let out a strangled moan, your body arching against fem gojo as she held you tighter.

“one down,” gojo teased as you convulsed around his fingers, your first orgasm ripping through you with humiliating ease.

“just five more, baby,” fem gojo cooed, brushing her lips against your ear. “think ya cunt can handle it?”

you didn’t have the breath to answer, already lost in the haze of pleasure and anticipation as gojo smirked down at you.

“don’t worry,” he murmured, sliding his fingers out only to replace them with his cock, the stretch sending your mind reeling.

“we’ve got allll night.”

⋆˙⟡ —

the first rays of the sun filtered into your room, casting soft golden streaks across the absolute battlefield that was your bed. clothes were long forgotten, scattered along with the remnants of your once-organized collection of sex toys — all strewn haphazardly on the mattress and floor, evidence of what you’d been subjected to.

but you couldn’t exactly reflect on the mess, not when your mind was lost in the fog of overstimulation.

your body dangled limply in fem gojo’s strong, steady arms, her breath warm against your ear as she held you upright. your head lolled back against her shoulder, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your boyfriend once again set a punishing rhythm with his hips.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice rough from hours of exertion but no less smug. “what number are we on now?”

you tried to answer, you really did, but all that came out was a broken, incoherent moan, your voice cracking as your legs trembled helplessly.

“what was that?” fem gojo teased, her laughter soft and melodic as she adjusted her grip on you, her fingers brushing over your slick, sweat-dampened skin. “i think she lost count. did we hit six or are we on nine?”

“definitely nine,” gojo declared, grinning as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “but she can’t keep up. guess i’ll just have to count for her.”

you whined, barely able to lift your arms, let alone argue.

“poor thing,” fem gojo cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as her lips trailed along your neck. “bet her brain’s all mush now. aren’t ya, pretty?”

you whimpered in response, your body shuddering as another wave of pleasure surged through you, leaving you gasping and clutching at fem gojo’s arms for support.

“look at that,” your boyfriend said with a chuckle, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you closer. “she’s still got some fight in her.”

“for now,” fem gojo quipped, smirking as she nuzzled into your hair.

“but i think we’ve got her for a few more rounds before she taps out.”

“good,” gojo muttered, his pace quickening as his grin widened. “’m not done yet.”

⋆˙⟡ —

you should’ve known better. should’ve known better than to assume fem gojo would let up.

sure, she’d been lounging lazily for a while, playing her role as the smug spectator while her male counterpart relentlessly worked you over. but the thing about gojo — male or female — was that patience wasn’t exactly their virtue.

“y’know,” fem gojo began, her tone as sweet as honey but laced with mischief as she propped her chin on your shoulder, her lips brushing against your ear. “i think we should switch things up for the finale.”

“finale?” you rasped, your voice hoarse and barely audible, every muscle in your body trembling from the sheer exertion.

“yeeaah, finale,” fem gojo purred, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thighs as she glanced up at her male counterpart, who raised a curious brow. “we’ve been so focused on her. don’t you think it’s time she gives you some love, hmm?”

gojo smirked, catching on immediately. “oh? you’re suggesting somethin'?”

“just an idea,” she said with a shrug, though her grin was positively wicked. “how about she thanks you properly? y’know, with her mouth.”

your head snapped up weakly, eyes wide. “wait —”

“shhhh, sweetheart,” fem gojo cooed, pressing a finger to your lips. “’s only fair, don’t cha think? he’s worked so hard.”

“exactly,” gojo chimed in, already moving to position himself over you, his knees framing your chest as he settled on the bed. “you should thank me.”

before you could protest — or muster the energy to protest — you felt fem gojo’s hands on your thighs, spreading them apart with ease.

“and while you’re doing that,” she murmured, her breath warm against your inner thighs as she lowered herself between them, “i’ll take care of this pretty little cunt. sound good?”

you didn’t even have the chance to respond before her tongue was on you, dragging a loong, languid stripe up your soaked folds that made your back arch off the bed.

“shit,” you gasped, your hands clutching at the pillows beneath your head as your boyfriend smirked down at you.

“open up, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he cupped your jaw, guiding you to take him into your mouth.

you whimpered, your lips parting obediently as he slid inside, the weight of him on your tongue making your eyes flutter shut.

“thaaat’s it,” he praised, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate motions. “such a good girl f'me.”

beneath him, fem gojo was working you over with the precision of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. her tongue flicked against your clit, her lips wrapping around it to suck softly before diving back down, licking and lapping at you like a woman starved.

“god, you taste so good,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your folds as she gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place. “i could do this all day.”

your muffled moans vibrated around your boyfriend’s cock, making him groan as he tangled his fingers in your hair.

“fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back as his movements quickened. “you’re gonna make me lose it, baby.”

the combination of sensations — the weight of your boyfriend in your mouth, the relentless pace of fem gojo’s tongue — was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once again.

“don’t pass out on us now,” fem gojo teased, her voice laced with amusement as she felt you clench around nothing, your body trembling violently. “you’ve got one more in you, don’tcha, sweetheart?”

you weren’t sure how you’d survive this, but as your boyfriend’s groans grew louder and fem gojo’s ministrations became even more fervent, you realized there was no escaping it.

you were completely at their mercy, and god, you weren’t sure if you’d ever recover.

the room was chaos, pure and utter chaos. the obscene mix of sounds — gojo’s low groans, your muffled gags, and fem gojo’s pleased hums — was almost too much for your fried brain to process.

you thought you were doing pretty well, honestly. your boyfriend’s usual sarcasm and taunting remarks had been steadily replaced by breathy curses and groans of approval.

“fuck, baby,” he muttered, his hand in your hair guiding you at a steady pace. “you’re so damn good at this — shit, look at you, taking me so well —”

you felt a flicker of pride at that, the kind that came with knowing you were completely wrecking him. but fem gojo? oh, she had other plans.

“aww, don’t forget 'bout me,” she chimed, her voice dripping with amusement as she leaned down, her breath warm against your oversensitive core. “can’t have you hogging all the fun, can we?”

before you could even process her words, her hand came down, a sharp slap! landing square on your clit.

the jolt of pleasure-pain tore a strangled sound from your throat — a sound that unfortunately turned into a gag as your body jerked in surprise, taking your boyfriend deeper than you ever had before.

“holy shit,” gojo choked out, his hips snapping forward instinctively as your throat spasmed around him. “fuck fuck fuck — wait! —”

too late. the sudden sensation was too much for him to handle, and with a low, guttural groan, he came, hot and thick down your throat.

“good — hah — girl,” he panted, his grip on your hair tightening as he rode out his high, his chest heaving. “goddamn — you’re perfect.”

but you barely had time to process his words before your body betrayed you again. fem gojo had taken full advantage of your momentary distraction, her tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you right to the edge — and then push you right over it.

“there it is,” she cooed as your thighs tensed around her head, her tongue still lapping at you eagerly. “god, you’re so pretty when you lose it.”

and lose it, you did. with a loud cry muffled by the aftermath of your boyfriend’s climax, you came, harder than you ever had before. the intense wave of pleasure ripped through you, your slick gushing out in a way that left both you and fem gojo absolutely stunned.

“well, well,” fem gojo murmured, pulling back just enough to wipe her soaked face with the back of her hand, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. “looks like we’re even now, huh?”

gojo’s dazed expression quickly turned smug as he caught his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair. “a squirt for a squirt?” he quipped, his grin sharp as he looked between the two of you. “not bad, sweetheart. i’m almost impressed.”

you groaned, your face burning as you buried it in the nearest pillow, both mortified and completely spent.

“aw, don’t get shy now,” fem gojo teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your thigh. “you did so well. maybe next time, i’ll let you return the favor properly.”

“next time?” you croaked, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“of course,” she said with a wink, already sitting up and stretching like she hadn’t just been part of the most insane night of your life. “you don’t think this is a one-time thing, do you?”

gojo groaned, flopping onto the bed beside you with a lazy grin. “oh, definitely not,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair. “you’re stuck with both of us now, babe.”

and judging by the way they both looked at you — smug, teasing, and entirely too pleased with themselves — you knew you were in for a long ride.

you were done.

like, stick-a-fork-in-you done.

lying there in a dazed mess of tangled sheets and sore limbs, your legs were trembling so hard you swore you could start a minor earthquake. you didn’t even have the strength to bat an eye as male gojo leaned over you, brushing away the strands of hair plastered to your forehead with an almost uncharacteristic tenderness.

“baby, you good?” he asked, a rare note of genuine concern lacing his voice.

“does she look good to you?” fem gojo cut in, lounging nearby with a towel draped over her shoulder. she reached for your pussy tentatively, only for you to weakly swat her hand away.

“don’t you dare.” your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it still made her chuckle.

“relax, i’m just kidding!… mostly,” she added with a wink, settling back as male gojo shot her a glare.

“she’s off-limits right now,” he said firmly, tossing a bottle of water onto the bed. “here, drink. if she passes out, it’s your fault.”

you groaned, rolling your eyes but still accepting the water with shaky hands. “like it’s just her fault,” you mumbled, earning a sheepish grin from him.

“you’re right, babe,” he admitted, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “but, c’mon. twelve orgasms? i mean, that’s a record, right? a feat of human engineering, honestly.”

fem gojo scoffed, sitting up to stretch. “please, if i wasn’t here, she wouldn’t have made it past six. you’re welcome, by the way.”

“you’re welcome for the stamina training i gave her,” he shot back, sticking out his tongue.

“both of you, shut up,” you groaned, dragging the towel over your face. “my entire body feels like jelly, and if one of you so much as breathes near me, i’m out the window.”

“she’s spicy when she’s exhausted,” fem gojo murmured with a smirk, tossing her head back dramatically. “fine, fine. i’ll behave.”

for now.

male gojo wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you against his chest as fem gojo slid in on your other side. “we’ll take care of you,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“mmm,” was all you could muster, melting into his warmth despite yourself.

“you’re amazing, y’know that?” fem gojo whispered, brushing a hand over your hair. “an absolute goddess. we’re lucky to have you.”

you snorted weakly. “oh, now you’re sweet.”

“only ‘cause you look like you’ve been through a war,” she teased.

male gojo tightened his hold on you, his voice softening. “but seriously, babe. if we went too far —”

“you think?” you interrupted, cracking open one eye to glare at him.

“okay, fair. but we’ll make it up to you. promise.”

fem gojo hummed in agreement, already grabbing a nearby lotion bottle. “massages, snacks, cuddles. whatever you need.”

and for once, they actually seemed serious. no teasing, no ulterior motives — just two ridiculously hot versions of your boyfriend determined to take care of you.

maybe having both of them wasn’t so bad… as long as you kept fem gojo’s hands away from certain places.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[jaysng]

sulking when he has to leave for work | lee heeseung

pregnancy aches and morning sulks become part of your routine, but heeseung’s soothing touch and playful efforts to put you back to sleep remind you just how loved you are—even when work calls him away. [wc. 1.8k]

PAIRING. nonidol!heeseung!husband x fem!preg!reader

GENRE. fluff but still sad

NOTE. i am sleepy and this is the most comforting shit i could write..

you wake up to the sound of his phone buzzing faintly on the nightstand. it takes a moment for you to register it, the haze of sleep still clinging to you as you shift in bed, trying to find a position that doesn’t make your back ache. but as you open your eyes and squint at the dim light seeping through the curtains, you realize heeseung isn’t lying beside you.

you turn your head, spotting him near the closet. he’s pulling a shirt over his head, his movements quiet, like he’s trying not to wake you. 

it’s a familiar scene by now—him getting ready for work while you’re still curled up in bed, but today, it feels different. maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe it’s the restless night you had, but the sight of him preparing to leave hits harder than usual.

“you’re up early,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

he startles slightly, turning to look at you. his hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his eyes are still half-lidded with sleep. 

“didn’t mean to wake you,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks. “go back to sleep, babe.”

you don’t reply right away, watching as he ties his shoelaces with careful precision. the quiet rustling of fabric and the faint hum of the air conditioner fill the room, and for a moment, you just sit there, feeling a familiar heaviness settle in your chest.

“do you have to go?” the words slip out before you can stop them, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

he pauses, his hands stilling mid-motion before he glances up at you. “you know I do,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “it’s just a regular shift. i’ll be back before dinner.”

you don’t say anything, but the way you pull the blanket tighter around yourself and sink deeper into the mattress speaks volumes. heeseung notices, of course he does, and he lets out a small sigh before scooting closer to you.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, resting a hand on your knee through the blanket.

you shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “nothing. i’m fine.”

“you don’t look fine,” he says gently, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.

you glance at him briefly before looking away, biting the inside of your cheek. “i just… i don’t want you to go today,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung leans back slightly, studying you with that careful, quiet look he always has when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in your head. “is it the baby?” he asks, his hand moving to rest on your bump instinctively.

“no,” you reply quickly, covering his hand with yours. “it’s not that. i just… i don’t know. i feel off today.”

he doesn’t respond right away, but the crease between his brows deepens as he processes your words. “off how?” he asks eventually, his tone soft and patient.

you let out a frustrated sigh, struggling to put your feelings into words. “i feel tired all the time, even when i sleep. and my back hurts. and i don’t like being alone for so long. it’s just… a lot.”

heeseung nods slowly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “i get it,” he says after a moment. “i really do. but i can’t skip work today. we’ve got that big project deadline, and—”

“i know,” you cut him off, your tone sharper than you intended. “i know you have to go. it’s just… hard sometimes.”

the room falls silent, the tension between you hanging heavy in the air. heeseung looks down at your joined hands, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before he lets out a quiet sigh.

“come here,” he says, his voice softer now as he shifts closer to you.

you hesitate, but the way he opens his arms for you makes it impossible to resist. you scoot over, letting him pull you against his chest. 

the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat instantly soothe some of the tension in your shoulders.

“i hate leaving you when you feel like this,” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head. “but i promise, i’ll be back as soon as i can. and if you need me, just call, okay?”

you nod against his chest, closing your eyes as you try to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “i just wish you didn’t have to go,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“me too,” he admits quietly, his hand moving to rub slow circles over your back.

the two of you sit there in silence for a while, the soft sound of the rain outside filling the room. it’s moments like these that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—the quiet, unspoken understanding between you, the way he always knows exactly what to say without saying too much.

“you’re really going to make me late, huh?” he says eventually, his tone light but teasing.

you pull back slightly to glare at him, though the corners of your mouth twitch with the hint of a smile. “you’re the one who started hugging me,” you point out.

he chuckles, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “guilty. but seriously, i have to go.”

you huff in protest, but before you can say anything else, he gently pushes you back down onto the bed, adjusting the pillows under your head and coaxing the blanket up over your shoulders.

“what are you doing?” you mumble, frowning at him as he carefully tucks you in.

“making sure you go back to sleep,” he says simply, smoothing the blanket over your body like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you’re not getting out of this bed until you rest properly.”

“heeseung—”

“shhh,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but firm. “close your eyes.”

you hesitate, but the way he’s looking at you—gentle yet determined—makes it hard to argue. with a small sigh, you let your eyes flutter shut, though you can still feel him moving beside you.

he starts humming softly, a familiar tune that makes your chest tighten with warmth. his hand brushes over your hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a soothing rhythm. the tension in your body slowly starts to melt away, and before long, you feel yourself sinking back into the haze of sleep.

just as you’re on the edge of drifting off, you feel the faintest brush of his lips against your temple.

“i’ll see you later, love,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

you don’t respond—you’re too far gone into sleep—but a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips, and he smiles to himself as he stands.

heeseung grabs his bag and quietly slips out the door, taking one last glance at you before leaving, his heart full of nothing but love.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[entitled-fangirl]

Peculiar. (P3)

Cregan Stark x seer!reader

Summary: A seemingly absurd vision of the reader's comes true. She hopes the North reacts well.

Warnings: talks of trapped marriage, pregnancy, visions, nightmares, miscommunications

Masterlist

Prequel, P1, P2

.....................................................

Cregan woke up as he normally did.

Y/n lay peacefully in their shared bed, the sight of her getting a good night's sleep rare, even more rare now that she was with child. And Cregan would do anything not to disturb it. 

He gently sat up, studying the way her nose twitched a bit when he shifted the blankets. With a careful touch, he had managed to get himself from the bed and began to dress. He couldn't dress in everything. That would take too long and risk waking her, so he threw on a tunic and breeches, trying his boots and throwing his cloak over his shoulder to put on once away from earshot.

He tiptoed to the door, opening it and inwardly cringing at the creak it made.

"Cregan?" 

He groaned and turned around. His wife laid in bed still, her eyes absolutely dazed with sleep but still set on him. He sighed softly, "Forgive me, sweet girl. I did not mean to wake you."

She ran a hand through what hair was not tangled against her pillow before moving to sit up. It was a difficult task now that she had life growing inside her, but she managed. Her hands rubbed at her eyes to pry the sleep away. "Where are you going?"

"To break fast. Sleep, and I'll have it brought to you later."

She shook her head. "I'll join you," her groggy voice echoed. 

"No, lovely. You need your sleep."

"Do you not want me to join you?" 

He couldn't take the glossy look in her eyes. "You were sleeping so well. But if you want to join me, I'll never complain."

"I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you weren't beside me," she said as she moved to the edge of the bed.

Cregan stepped to her side immediately, his instincts kicking in to help her stand. He grabbed one of her biceps, his other hand going around her waist.

"You were muttering, you know," he quietly said. "In your sleep."

She hummed. "Sorry, my love."

He shook his head as he pulled a cloak over her shoulders. "Don't be. It's alright. I just wish to know what you were dreaming of."

It was common that her visions came in the dead of night when all in the castle laid fast asleep. 

When she opened her mouth to object, he began again. "I know you try to forget them, but this one sounded important. Please try."

One of his hands caressed at the back of her neck, intertwining his fingers into her hair and gently massaging. 

"There was fire," she whispered. There was a dull look in her eyes that clearly said whatever she saw was not pleasant. 

"Fire, aye. What else?" He asked, trying carefully to not pressure her. 

"A Northern fire will sweep over the house, and rain will sweep over the land of the… the…" She paused. "I can't remember what animal."

He was so close to getting his answer. "C'mon. Think, sweet girl. What animal? Did you see it?"

She nodded. "Antlers and…" She sighed. "I just remember the orange. Surrounded in orange."

Cregan's blood ran cold. "A black moose surrounded in orange?" He asked softly, as if he didn't want the answer.

A curt nod.

"Fuck." He kissed the top of her head. "Let us break fast. Then I fear I have work ahead of me."

…

The men of Cregan's council dared to scoff at the idea. 

"There is never rain in the Hornwood. To even suggest such a thing is ridiculous," one of the lords huffed.

Cregan's fist clenched. "Watch your tone. You speak of my wife in your talk of ridiculous suggestions."

"He's right, though." Another pointed out, "Fire and rain? House Hornwood? How are you so sure?"

"She saw it. The house sigil. It's no coincidence."

"I see lots of things in my sleep, my lord," one of them chided.

"Have you seen house sigils in your dreams before you even knew they existed?" Cregan growled. "She knows nothing of House Hornwood."

The men quieted down. "How are you so sure it will happen soon?"

Cregan shrugged. "I'm not."

"I'll send a raven to the Lord, but I doubt he listens."

…

Whispers sounded across Winterfell. A ridiculous dream of the destruction of a noble house. Such gossip.

Cregan, if he even noticed, didn't let it bother him. He was quick to control his anger. He took care of disrespect, but gossip? He didn't take so personally.

His pregnant wife on the other hand?

She became an absolute wreck.

She refused to leave their room without his company. She claimed the stares and gawks haunted her more than the visions. And Cregan saw to it.

He accompanied her to every meal, even pausing his work to take her to walk through Winterfell to ensure her and the child's health. 

One of these walks led them through the courtyard where a councilman's wife had grown quite confident. Cregan had turned for only a moment. Dropped her hand for only a moment.

"Makes sense that he just does your bidding. You're a mess otherwise."

Y/n's head shot up. "What?"

"I said," the women repeated. "You're carrying his child, so of course he'll do whatever you want. He can't handle the thought of you doing something drastic."

"That's not…" she tried to defend, but her voice trailed off. 

"Admit it, my lady. He's terrified of the drastic measures you take to keep him next to you. Going along and making stories. Makes me sick." She spit at the pregnant woman's feet and walked off.

Y/n was at a loss for words. She felt her heart wrench with guilt and pity and overall, self consciousness. 

Maybe there was truth to her words. 

Cregan returned not long after. He immediately noted that something was wrong. "Ready to go back indoors?"

"Very much."

…

That night, she woke up in a panic. Cregan's heavy arm was wrapped around her, his hand placed on the side of her swollen stomach. She wanted to get up. To walk. To do anything. But she couldn't disturb him. 

With the self consciousness settling in, she decided that she wouldn't bother him with these supposed visions anymore. 

No matter how pleasant or horrid.

She rubbed at her stomach until her eyelids grew heavy once again, and she fell back asleep.

Unaware of Cregan's open eyes.

…

The next morning, he decided to politely bring it up as they ate in their chambers.

"Sleep well, then?" He broke the silence.

She took a small bite and nodded. "Pleasant as usual," she muttered.

He tilted his head.

That's all it took.

That's all it took for take back every word. He knew her in and out, and she knew it.

"It was awful. I feel so plagued," she sniffled.

He brushed a stray hair behind her ear. "Tell me," he comforted like he always did.

She shook her head. "I won't."

"Why not?"

Her eyes were haunted. "I'm tired of being the bad news."

A soft noise came from his throat at her confession. "You're not."

"I am."

"You are not," he insisted firmer this time.

"I predict death and destruction every night. Every day. I'm tired of it."

"MY LORD!" A voice interrupted from down the corridor. 

Cregan jumped up and ran to the door, knowing his wife didn't wish to see visitors. "What?"

"A letter, my lord. The Hornwoods. The fire," the servant whispered.

His eyes widened and he ripped the letter open.

A fire had started in the castle, but due to Cregan's letter from a few weeks prior, they had moved all important historical documents to a safe location. 

And true to the letter, a heavy rain poured over the castle, putting it out after a few hours. 

Truly remarkable indeed.

He looked back at his wife. "Tell me of your vision, my love." He reread the letter. "The future lies in your mind."

…

The next day, he had talked her into leaving the chambers. 

Upon entering the courtyard, everyone fell silent. No one said a word, and the awkwardness was almost unbearable. 

Until finally a man approached them. He got down on his knee. "My Lord and Lady Stark."

Y/n stepped away, but Cregan placed a heavy hand to her lower back, keeping her in her place next to him.

Slowly the people began to chatter, some approaching and speaking to the couple. Praises, and gratitude.

At every chance, Cregan mentioned his wife's attention to her detailed dreams.

How it was because of her. 

"May your child be blessed with your gifts," one of them chipped up.

Cregan's lips pulled into a huge grin, pure ecstasy radiating though him. "She's seen our child. In her dreams. A visionary lies in her womb!"

Cheers sounded throughout the courtyard and her self consciousness faded.

For once, she didn't feel ashamed.

After all, how could she when Cregan smiled so brightly?

......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname, @cherryheairt

A/n: updating my tag list if anyone wants to hop on!

[awizix]

name: anti stress

character: nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

tags?: afab! reader, 18+, face sitting, handjob, it's so soft what the hell, petnames (love), reader isn't shaved (i said it.), being gentle and soft together.

words: around 2,3k

notes: nanami kento.......this man is always on my mind. my roman impire. i just wanted to write something about him so bad oh my god (and i did it with not one but two hands wow) + english isn't my first language

it's friday night.

you close the apartment door behind you as you let out a deep sigh. this day was a hell on earth, you're sure of it. you awkwardly take off your heels, carelessly tossing them on the doormat — you'll put them away later, you're too tired to care about it. (kento will probably do it himself — he always looks after you and your belongings).

you ungraciously walk to the kitchen in this pencil skirt that doesn't allow you to take bigger than normal steps and put boxes with take out food on the counter. it's 9:41 pm. a bit earlier kento sent a message asking what would you want for dinner but you replied that you will get take out today — you know this week was just as hard for him as it was for you. probably even harder so you said he shouldn't cook tonight or he might pass out from standing too much.

you walk towards living room as it's the only room with a light on (you know it's the lamp near tv that gives off warm, not too bright light — kento's eyes can get really tired by the end of the day).

you immediately notice him as you enter the room and even in your tired state a small smile appears on your face. he's sitting on the floor, with his back supported by the couch and his head laying on the soft cushion. he's still in his work suit and white shirt (even though now his clothes are all wrinkled from the long day). you notice a bowl with water on the coffee table near by and a wet cloth covering his eyes. you can see that he noticed your presence as well, slightly turning his face to you. you take off your jacket and throw it on the couch as you make your way towards him and slide to the floor, pressing yourself against him.

you both sigh at the contact, finally reunited after this hell of a day. you gently take the wet cloth as you start carefully wipe the excess water on his face and throw it back in the bowl. kento opens his eyes, these hazel orbs looking at you lovingly as he says "welcome home, love". you smile as your palms find their place on his face, gently caressing his stubble. the sensation isn't unpleasant under your fingertips, but you'll help him to shave in the morning. now? you don't want to move from the floor at all.

you get closer to his face and kiss him softly — a completely chaste kiss, just to feel each over, to relax and ground yourselves. he answers willingly, his strong hands grabbing your waist, squeezing and pulling your body closer. he mumbles, a slight mischief in his voice, "tired day?". you giggle as you hide your face in his chest.

he knows it was. the whole week was busy — you with your additional project at work and kento wish missions, reports and meetings. you almost haven't seen each other at all this week, only exchanging quick sleepy kisses as kento was leaving too early in the morning for you to be up and you coming home too late to find him already sleeping in the bed. but it's friday. with whole two days of rest ahead.

so you say, quietly and smiling "a whole week, you can say". you massage the back of his neck, occasionally touching short hair of his undercut and he groans at the feeling. you ask him, unable to hide concern in your voice, "how are you feeling?". you know he works so hard sometimes, coming home with dark bags underneath his eyes and bruised body. he rolls his head back on the couch, closing his eyes, as he answers, "just tired. mission took longer than it was planned. but I'm unharmed".

you smile as your hands travel to his broad shoulders and god, you can't keep your hands off this man. even through layers of fabric you can feel his muscles and power hidden in his body. "can i do something? to help you to relax?"

kento is silent for a moment. "yes"

you angle your head, even if he can't see that. you hum, "hm?". you can make him his favourite tea or give him a massage (you read about it online just for him). so you expect something like that, not...

"sit on my face".

you blink several times and shake your head in disbelief. have you.... heard it correctly? "what?". suddenly, with his hands still on your waist, he tugs you closer and you almost fall on him but he holds you firmly but carefully like the most expensive treasure. your face is so close to his and he whispers into your lips, "sit on my face. please, love".

his hands start caressing your back, slowly running up and down, and your body runs hot on autopilot as a response to his touch. but then he kisses you and your mind goes blank — this kiss is nothing like the previous one. it's hot and wet as he licks your lips and his tongue enters your mouth. one of his hands presses your cheeks together, urging you to open your mouth wider and you comply as you moan instantly, feeling him sucking on your tongue.

he breaks a kiss and you look at him, breathless, your chest heaving, "i... i thought you were tired". he hums, his hot hands now exploring the front of your body through your work shirt — he slides them from your exposed neck to your breasts, palming them through your bra, lower to your soft stomach and then up again. "and this is exactly what will help me to relax".

you swallow hard. gosh, he's impossible. you use his shoulders for leverage as you try to get up, "okay, okay. just give me 10 minutes? I'll shower and then..."

"no. don't".

you look at him, puzzled, "hm? what? what do you mean?"

his wandering hands slide lower, gripping your ass as he says, "want you right now. here".

you smile at him, gently shaking your head, "kento, love, i took a shower in the morning but i spent the whole day on my feet, okay? I'm probably sweaty and...".

"and i want you just like that", kento's raspy voice interrupts you. you look at him, his gaze serious but full of desire and want, his pupils dilated with lust pooling in them. you whisper, "are you... are you sure?".

"yes, I'm sure".

you get up, still nervous but with unmistakable heat burning between your thighs. you start pulling your pencil skirt down as kento's hands gently brush against the back of your calfs. next, you tug down your sheer tights and simple cotton underwear and kento groans at the sight of your pussy, "fuck, thought about this beauty the whole week". he pulls you closer as he starts leaving hot wet kisses on your thighs, getting closer and closer to your heat. there, he inhales deeply and moans. you feel blood rushing to your face as you mumble, "kento, oh my god...".

he looks up at you with a small smile as he plants several kisses to the dark patch of hair. you moan — both at the feeling and how unbelievable he is — as you gently caress his hair. he rolls his head back, laying it on the couch and gently slaps your thighs, "come on. get on, love".

you silently follow his order, getting on the couch facing its back, with his head between your parted legs. his strong arms hug your thighs as he pulls you lower and lower until you're completely seated. a shudder runs through you at the feeling of his stubble gently brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs.

you grip the back of the couch until it hurts a little as you feel his hot tongue pressed completely flat against your womanhood as he starts licking you. he sucks on your folds and teases your clit with a pointed end of his tongue — you start rocking involuntarily, but kento's hands just squeeze harder, locking you in the place.

you whine and mewl as he keeps licking, sucking and kissing — you're so wet you can hear slurps and squelches. you start impatiently unbuttoning your shirt, fingers shaking and not listening too well. halfway through, you grow annoyed and with just a half of buttons undone, you take it off through you head, throwing in on the couch somewhere. you quickly take off your bra and a loud moan erupts from you as you grab your tits, gently rolling perky nipples between your own fingers.

you whine and shut your eyes as you imagine what he looks like — still in his suit, with his incredible dick out, gently palming himself as he smears precum on the soft skin and brings you closer to the cloud 9 with his wonderful hot tongue.

kento's hands disappear from their place on your thighs and with newfound freedom you can't help but start riding his face, just a little, just a bit of back and forth. after a moment you hear a zipper being pulled down, rustling of fabric and feel kento letting out a dreamy sigh, hot air hitting your sensitive folds, as he starts stroking himself.

kento's free hand slides higher, joining yours in palming and massaging your tits as his wet tongue starts entering you that makes your thighs shake. he gently bites your folds and you arch with a loud mewl, parting your legs even wider in your attempt to get his face even closer to your heat. he pinches your nipples softly that earns a loud shriek from you and you can feel him smirking.

you get closer and closer to your orgasm from his skillful movements and as he angles his face so he good plunge his tongue deep into you with his nose pressing against your cute clit and you suddenly cum with a silent moan. your thighs press together, shaking, trapping his head between them but it seems he doesn't mind in the slightest as he eagerly drinks your juices, licking you clean.

you're panting like you just ran a maraphon as you guide your shaking hair to his head — still between your thighs — to softly pat his hair. you look down and by the creases around his eyes you know kento's smiling. you gigle as you get up with a wet sound and slide lower to find your place on his lap as he still slowly strokes himself.

you start unbuttoning his shirt as he keeps his pace — he's close, but he's not in a hurry. you kiss him, wet and hot, as you finally get your hands on his hard chest and stomach. you almost purr as your hands glide lower and accidently touch his hard cock. you smile in the kiss as you put your hand on top of his moving one, your fingertips gently carassing his hot dick. your other hand is softly rubbing his velvet skin, coated with a thin layer of sweat. you can feel a rapid heartbeat under your palm and the way his lungs expand with each inhale. you gently caress his hardened nipples and he groans in your mouth.

he lets go of the hold on the dick, allowing you to take the reins as his hands start touching your body, gently caressing your sides but almost aggresively grabbing and sqeezing your tits. you whine pitifully as you wrap your hand around him, gripping him firmly and stroking him fast — just the way kento loves. you break the kiss, you two looking at each other and breathing the same air. you feel muscles of his abs tightening under your fingertips as you whisper breathly, "like that?". he's nodding as he guides your body closer to him, your moving hand now trapped between your bodies. "yeah....fuck, yeah, like that. just.....just touch the head".

you hum and move your palm to the mushroom like head of his dick, wrapping a tight circle around it as you start stroking him there — firmly and vigorously. that earns you a low moan from kento as his head rolls back, exposing his sensetive neck and you can't help yourself as you start kissing his salty skin, marking him lightly and gently biting his adam's apple.

a minute later he groans, eyes shut and his body tensed, as he cums with his warm seed getting on his chest and stomach as well as your fingers. you slow down your movements, helping him to ride his high and milking him. after several moments you retrieve your hand to grab a wet cloth from the bowl. you clean your hand and carefully wipe kento's body as his tired gentle eyes follow your every movement. you throw it back in the bowl and he pulls you closer, his hands secure around your waist.

he kisses you then, deeply but without any heat — only love and gratitude. you gigle quietly, breaking the kiss and looking at him warmly. he smiles at you, "thank you, love".

"feel better?".

"so much better".

you raise your hands and stretch, muscles tensing for a moment but relaxing a second later. unbeknownst to you, kento's gaze glides on your body — soft tummy and the way your tits move. you're so beautiful. he kisses the place between your breasts and you laugh softly. he whispers, "i love you".

you gently caress his face, "love you too".

"shower?".

"oh my god, yes".

P.S. istg if he was real i would have to be put down like a feral animal.

[randomsuggesteduseername]

waking up with nerdy college steve after a hookup

—MASTERLIST

The sheets feel soft on your skin, uncharacteristically so for the uni beds, and as you open your eyes it’s confirmed that you didn’t make it home last night. Lazily, you let your head turn to the side, the light from the wall-length window almost blinding you as you try to accustom from the previous darkness of your eyelids. He’s sleeping, you notice as much from the rhythmic rise and fall of his back, your eyes exploring shamelessly the expanse of his skin littered in moles and twin pairs of four indents on his shoulder blades. They’re still somewhat red, a gentle reminder of the previous night.

Rolling on your stomach, you keep yourself up on your elbows as you tilt your head curiously, who knew Steve could look this peaceful? You’ve only known him as that boy from sociology you happened to lock eyes with a few times. The first thing you had noticed about him were his perfect eyes and the little stray chestnut strand which was curling down from his forehead all the way to his pretty brown eyes. So wide, framed by black lashes with just the right upwards curl to give him that Bambi look which had you thinking about him for an embarrassing amount of time.

You’d seen the way girls were fawning over him, how he’d politely reject them and try to keep his distance. It made you think he was taken, but how could he be not, those eyes were like gentle traps. Traps in which you fell head first without warning. You’re not in love with him, no…you don’t think you are, but you’re not indifferent to him either which is somewhat vexing.

He’s waking up, a deeper breath and a grumpy sigh fall from his lips first, the scruffing of his pillow audible as he nuzzles deeper into the comfort of the silk. He has his own apartment, daddy’s money is your best guess, which is surprising since he doesn’t have anything in common with the rich douchebags which always make their presence known by flashing their wealth left and right. He’s so different in his own way, which is why you’re surprised that you managed to make it into his bed last night, you suppose Tina’s vodka spiked punch might’ve loosened him up.

You watch him as he sits up, a cute frown resting between his brows as he supports himself with a hand against the mattress before he looks around, spotting you beside him, still wearing his polo from the previous night. It was the closest garment you could grab from the floor.

“Morning…” His voice is deeper than usual, sleep still lingering on him and his features. “You’re still here,” he says as if it’s a miracle, his pink-ish lips pulling up at the corners in a pretty smile.

“Would you rather that I leave?” Questioning teasingly, you hum at the soft pout falling onto his lips, making you shake your head and sigh, reaching a hand to ruffle his already messy hair. “Relax, bambi, I’m just joking.” Sitting yourself up, you climb onto his lap as he leans back against the headboard and gazes up at you, the slightly sleepy look in his eyes making your stomach squeeze.

Slinging your arms around his neck, you let out a hum and push one hand up into his hair, silky strands slipping smoothly through your fingers as you watch his eyes flutter shut and lean back into your touch. You suddenly want him again. Bad.

You thought that last night was enough for you to get him out of your system, but once again, looking at those soft lips, you wish they’d be doing something else right now. Giving his lips a chaste peck, you feel his hands pressing onto your waist with a featherlight pressure, grounding himself in the moment as if just the softest touch of your lips has him floating. Pulling back slightly to watch him, you notice the leftover lipstick marks smeared onto his skin, the reddish tint at the corner of his lips, over his jaw and stretching down to his neck and collarbone.

Tutting gently, you smile to yourself, letting your fingers push his hair back from his forehead before you lean in and stop just a hair’s width away from his lips, your eyes falling shut as you hum and squeeze the back of his neck. “You know, Bambi…” Shifting on his thighs, “there’s something about you driving me crazy.” you tilt your head and before he can think of a response, your lips are on his, lazily kissing him as you shift closer and nip on his lip. His breath fans over your cheek, hands tightening slightly onto your waist as he gets worked up, your kiss turning more heated and rushed. You pant, pulling back, surprised as he leans in and continues mouthing sloppily at your neck.

Offering him the whole expanse of your neck to play with, your eyes stay shut as you feel the accidental scrape of his front teeth against the side of your neck, making you moan and grip at his shoulder, your other hand tugging onto his hair as a reassuring gesture that he's doing well.. His skin is warm against yours despite the shudder which runs through him at the sharp feeling of you tugging onto his hair. He loves it, the type of pain which fuels his fire.

He doesn’t dare to go further, settling for some open mouthed kisses onto your neck, his hands having found the courage to slip under your shirt, which is actually his, but he knows that if you want he’ll let you leave with it. Warm palms spread over your back, you grip his throat and push him back from your skin, his expression mimicking one of a puppy whose toy has been snatched away.

Your lips settling onto his jaw, you suck a mark on the underside of it which makes him jolt, struggling to keep still as you turn his skin a rose colour, finishing it up with a nip. Chuckling at his soft jolt, you murmur a soft praise and pull back to admire his blissed out face, lips parted slightly, eyes shut and his cheeks a matching shade with the mark on his neck.

Sighing deeply, you roll off and lay back, legs parting suggestively as you motion for him to come lay with you with a subtle tilt of your head, watching as his grin widens while he moves to lay between your legs, keeping himself up with the help of his elbows sinking into the mattress as you notice the soft squint in his brows. Blindly reaching a hand to the nightstand, you grab his frames and gently prop them up onto his nose, smiling softly. “There,” Swiping his hair away once again, you smile as he thanks you, his thin frames making his eyes seem just a bit bigger, the nickname ‘Bambi’ even more fitting for him now.

Smiling as his cheeks seem to tint a bit at your gesture, you gently trace his glasses, tucking some longer hairs behind his ear before you settle your hand at the back of his neck, squeezing. “Now,” Trailing off, tone warm, yet holding a certain amount of teasing. “it’s 9, we still have time. So we can have sex, go out for some breakfast and then maybe go to sociology?” Proposing the schedule, his lips part, seemingly focusing on just the first part of the sentence to which he agrees with a dumb nod.

He’s gone to heaven, he thinks. Nothing can convince him otherwise as you kiss him again, ridding him of any coherent thought.

[hannieehaee]

HI!! how are you??

do you mind doing a poly seventeen relationship with vernon and chan and they spoil her alot?? (smut tho)

thank you!! i love you and your blog <3

18+ / mdi

content: bf!vernon and bf!chan, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), handjob, mentions of m receiving oral, mentions of shower sex, etc.

wc: 886

a/n: i couldn't help but write them bickering bc i i just know they totally would in real life.

masterlist

"dude, what the fuck? i thought you guys were going to work today. hyung, you literally have a solo song coming up!"

chan's whines were not enough to get you to stop kissing vernon's neck as you cuddled into him on the couch, nor where they enough for vernon, apparently. his hands were very intent on feeling every inch of your tits, something which you did not want chan to take away from you.

"just did some recording from the home studio," was all vernon said in reply, hands now reaching your ass to pull you on top of him, lips finding yours in a kiss.

"i will not be a third wheel in my own home," he grumbled, "move over, you've had her all day."

he made his way to the couch, sitting on the other side of you as he fought vernon for your attention. after a bit of back and forth, vernon gave you one last kiss before leaving you in chan's arms, pleased enough to have had you to himself all day.

it's not like chan and vernon never shared you at the same time, but they just so happened to both be a little possessive. they preferred to take turns to ensure they could each be fully satisfied. and you? you had no complaints.

"i'm gonna go make some hoco. want some, baby?" he asked as he headed to the kitchen.

"mm, yes, nonnie," you interrupted a heady kiss from chan to respond.

"for me too!," said the aforementioned boy before kissing you again.

vernon chuckled and shook his head as he left, taking note that he should probably ask you to shower with him later. he wanted the last word after chan had his way with you.

~

"oh, but this is fine? weren't you complaining we took a day off without you literally yesterday?"

now it was vernon's turn to walk in on you and chan. however, this time you were located in the bedroom, with chan deep between your legs as you sat at the edge of the bed.

"sorry, baby. i might've convinced him to stay home since you'd be gone today," you mumbled in between gasps.

"c'mere, baby. my hand is all yours," you gestured him to sit next to you as your other hand held onto chan's head, leading his movements against your cunt.

vernon needed no further encouragement, undoing his pants as he walked over to bed and took a seat next to you, kissing you and letting his hands feel up your tits as you began working him with your own hand — god, he really was a boob guy.

"mmm, missed you today," he hummed between kisses.

"me more, nonn- ah! sorry, channie, fuck, you're being so good for me, baby."

wordlessly, he had demanded for attention while his tongue was deep in you. it was the classic competition for your affection.

"fuck, baby, keep doing that. gonna fuck you later, okay? fuck you to sleep, shit, yeah?", mumbled vernon against your lips. his orgasm was close, you could hear it in his voice. he must've been tired from practicing all day.

"mhm, shit. please," you pleaded before turning your attention to the other boy, "channie, shit, 'm gonna cum soon."

he murmured incoherent words into your folds, nose nudging a particularly sensitive spot as he sped up. you were so into your own pleasure you hadn't realized the poor boy had been using your shoe to hump in order to release his own tension.

you hoped he wouldn't cum from it. you had way better plans for him as soon as you got vernon off with your hand.

a high pitched cry was the last thing you voiced against vernon's lips, soon followed by his own grunts of pleasure as he dirtied your hand with his spunk. he was insistent in kissing you throughout both your orgasms, sometimes not even landing on your lips, but still within the ballpark. it was a disorganized mess, as it usually was with vernon.

chan waited patiently until the two of you got a fill of each other. he'd been enjoying the show you and vernon gave him, lip caught in his teeth up until he reached up to you and stole you away from vernon, instead giving you a taste of yourself through the remnants of his lips.

"stop, i'm the one you should be kissing right now," he complained as vernon chuckled beside you, getting up to get a rag to clean himself with.

"i know, channie," you coo'd, "i'll make it up to you, okay, baby?"

getting up, you held out your hand for him with a smile, leading him to the restroom connected to your room. before entering, you turned back to vernon, nodding at him to follow along and giggling when he lit up at the invitation.

"i'll suck off whoever washes my hair," you proposed once in the bathroom.

you were met with a whiny back and forth between both men, insisting they were the best at washing your hair and that the other had already gotten more than enough attention from you.

in the end, it didn't really matter. you had more than enough in you to satisfy both of them. you just liked to see them bicker over you.

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Sylus: Sweet Night | SFW

Am I entering a Sylus era? No, no I'm not. I just love them all and got this idea real fast and needed to quickly type it out.

Pairings: Sylus x Reader Warnings: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Whenever he goes to bed, you're just waking up, and whenever it's time for you to go to bed, he's already drinking his morning coffee in the kitchen. It was one of the few things you absolutely despised about your schedules. Just once, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

Sylus could see it on your face as you were pouting, heading towards the bedroom. You didn't even know when you came to just casually sleep at his place almost every night, but it was part of your routine now.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing how you seemed to be sulking as you turned to him. How did you even voice what you wanted? It wasn't like he could help it, in the end. His meetings took place late evening and at night, while your work started early in the day.

He noticed the hesitation as he walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him, "Come on, you can tell me." he coaxed, his words sweet and gentle in your ears, a tone reserved only for you.

You let out a sigh, looking up at him, "I just...do you think sometime we can...go to bed together. And wake up together?" you decided a direct approach was always best with Sylus. He was accommodating to you all the time, as long as you spoke what was on your mind.

He hummed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple, "Is that all you wanted?" he murmured against you, "Then how about...next week? I can clear my schedule then, and we can have a day, start to finish." he settled on, making your heart soar.

"You'd do that for me?" you asked, feeling so content in the moment as he hummed, the sound vibrating against you.

"It's not like you're asking for much, sweetie, honestly you could've asked for far more and I'd still go along with it." he said and you chuckled.

"I'll hold you to that, then." you said, reaching an arm up to drag him down for a quick kiss.

You felt like that week dragged on, your entire mind only focusing on your plans for Friday night. Getting off work and immediately heading towards the N109 zone. You were exhausted beyond belief, but the comforting feeing of walking into the familiar Onychinous base made you feel at ease.

Instead of seeing Sylus in his robe, sipping on coffee while going through his phone, you saw him still fully dressed from his day. He had a sweet smile as he beckoned you closer.

A warm shower, soft words, and finally, finally, the soft embrace of his bed. HIs arms wrapped securely around you as you pressed your face into his neck, your hand over his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. Even still, it ran wild, but that too was oddly calming for you now.

He squeezed you closer to him, and he looked just as exhausted as you were, "Did you pull an all dayer for this?" you teased him, your voice coming out softer now as he looked at you and smirked.

"Obviously," he murmured, "I wouldn't be able to sleep if I was working off my normal schedule." he said, pinching your side and making you squirm closer to him until you were hooking a leg around his.

You were silent for a moment as you thought things over, "I...thank you for doing this for me." you finally said, pressing a kiss to the wide expanse of his chest that you could reach from your angle.

"It's not much, you shouldn't praise someone doing the bare minimum, darling," he said, "Raise your standards."

"My standards are already incredibly high thanks to you, sir," you scoffed playfully. His face was pressed into your hair now, and you could feel him smiling against you.

"That's how it should be...besides, this seemed important to you. You seemed stressed last week about the whole ordeal." he pointed out and you blinked for a moment, processing his words. You didn't realize you had shown that many signs of it bothering you, but Sylus did have a tendency to be able to read you like an open book.

"Ya, I guess I was..." you said, "I just," the words were embarrassing to admit, "Tara had talked about how nice it was to fall asleep and wake up in the arms of her current boyfriend, and I felt a bit envious over it. I thought that wouldn't be possible for us."

Sylus hummed, "If you want, I can put more of an effort into laying with you until you fall asleep, and coming back before you wake up." he commented.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night?"

"Then call me, and I'll come back," he said, "Now hush, we're both tired, and need sleep. As much as I enjoy our little talk, you had a long day, didn't you?" he asked and you hummed.

"I assume Mephisto was reporting about my work day?"

"He always does," Sylus said, "Now sleep, I promise, for at least tonight, even if you wake up in the middle of the night, I'll still be here."

"Alright, goodnight Sylus."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

[cxffecoupx]

sundays

choi seungcheol x reader pure fluff, very domestic allowing their partner to sleep in because they were overworked anyway and need the rest with scoups wc: 995 warnings: mentions of food author's notes: first request from the prompt list. thank you so much anon! most of the feelings i wrote this with comes from all the stress last week, so this was pretty healing for me to write. also i tried a different style in this, not sure i liked it at first, but do lemme know what you guys think. also, i love domestic, boyfriend seungcheol, if it wasnt already obvious.

saturday; 8:26 p.m.

the soft vibrations startle you in the quiet hum of the library. people look towards you, some annoyed, some with no particular expression on their faces. dead inside.

somewhat like you.

you mutter apologies as you rush out with your phone. seungcheol's name lights up the screen. you pick up the call.

"hey baby."

"hey, cheollie."

"have you eaten yet?"

"no; i still have a little to finish the chapter. so maybe after that..."

"baby..." you swear you could see the pout on his face when you hear his voice. "how many times have i asked you not to starve yourself?"

"cheol, i'm not starving, i promise to eat after this chapter."

"you want me to order something for you?"

"no no, i'm good. i'll grab something from the cafe. i gotta go, i'll call you when i reach room, okay?"

after a hum, you end the call and go back to your table.

-----

saturday; 11:52 p.m.

you were writing notes - two three textbooks open on the desk, along with your laptop, and notebook on your lap, your pen tucked above your lips as you ponder something. the weighted blanket covers the chair and your figure, and although sleep is fluttering in your eyes, the thought of having to physically get up and out of this cozy comfortable cocoon makes you wanna sleep in the chair itself.

your phone buzzes with a text, making you groan because you'd have to pull yourself out of the position you're currently in. you do it anyways, and see that seungcheol had sent you a text.

big baby🍒: you up for a walk? me: i have to study me: :( big baby🍒: who are you kidding? big baby🍒: we both know youre falling asleep rn me: >:( me: but you make a good point me: when are you leaving? i'll get ready big baby🍒: already in front of your door

you get ready quickly and open the door to find seungcheol waiting out, cheeks red and lips shivering. you smile as you pull his face to yours to kiss his lips, mumbling a weak excuse that it's to warm them up. he wraps his scarf round your neck and interlinks your hands as you head for the walk.

when you return an hour later, it's with much reluctance that seungcheol says he should leave. but then he pouts every half minute after muttering his decision.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" you offer, knowing fully well he would never reject. he doesnt even hear the whole question before he's kicking off his shoes and entering your room. you head over to your wardrobe to take out some of his clothes he'd left behind at various points of your relationship and bring it to him. when he's done freshening up, he comes out to see you settling back into your cocoon, head deep in the books. he decides to keep company as he lays on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

-----

sunday; 2:57 p.m.

seungcheol had fallen asleep some multiple times in between keeping you silent company, but when he wakes up now, he's full awake and shocked to see you still sitting at your desk, now with some snack packets littering around. he decides to walk over and call you to bed, but that's when he notices that your eyes are half-closed and your head hanging in a way that makes him wince. drool almost makes its way down your chin before he takes a tissue and wipes it off. he gently nudges you awake.

"yn, baby. you need to get to bed. come on now."

he's honestly surprised when you easily comply, maybe because of your half-asleep state, because usually you'd reject and sit for some time more. the walk that he'd planned to tire you out had worked, he thinks to himself, as he supports your asleep body to your bed and lays you down, tucking you in the soft, weighted blanket - your favourite - before settling in beside you.

as he drifts back to sleep, he hears you murmur to him.

"seungie, wake me up early tomorrow, okay?"

it's only after he reassures you that he will that you finally wrap your arms around his torso and settle into the warmth of his chest before falling asleep.

-----

sunday; 11:17 a.m.

seungcheol is awakened by you snuggling closer to him. it's way past the time he was asked to wake you up at, but he wouldn't dare wake you up when you seemed to sleep so peacefully. that too on an off day? he could never.

he takes his sweet time admiring your features during this moment of calm: your eyelids that are open in the slightest, the little sniffs with each breath you take because winters meant you're cold at every passing moment, the hair that fell out of the neat bun you made before going to bed, puffy cheeks that seem to move as you chew on something in your dream (he guesses). his urge to touch your face overpowers every other thought as he lightly traces his finger along the line of your brow. this seemed to have woken you up because you sigh before opening your eyes; the first thing you see in the morning being his handsome, bed-face that's smiling towards you.

a view you could never get tired of.

you press the lightest of kisses on his lips and turn to check your phone. panic seeps into your brain within a millisecond when you realize its way past your wake-up time. you sit up in a swift motion.

"cheol, i asked you to wake me up at 7!"

"relax baby, it's a sunday."

"but-"

before you could argue back, he sits up and places a smooch on your lips.

"no buts. you don't have to rush every time; it's alright to take breaks."

another kiss.

"good morning, baby. let's go make some pancakes."

[morikosa]

Summary: His adorable sweet bunny is in the heat and he, as a responsible owner, is there to help his bunny.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — Bunny!reader, Oral (f! Receiving), reader is too innocent for this world

Time passed, and you got used to him. You have changed a lot since he took you in. You ate good food, showered regularly, and were dressed in nice clothes. He even tried to teach you how to talk, not like your old owner.

He loved you.

And you loved him.

You got so used to him that you could never sleep without him. It was too hard for you to sleep without him stroking your hair, your bunny ears, and your plush bunny tail.

But there is only one problem for you

Because of his career as a sorcerer, he was always at work. Sometimes, he came home very late, and you missed him very much.

Today was one of those days. He wasn't home now,

You were waiting for him on his bed for hours, you even had one of his shirts, your arms wrapped tightly around him, and you were breathing in his smell; it smelled just like him.

You curled up on the bed, hugging his shirt tightly. You missed him so much; it was hard for you to fall asleep without him, his strong, protective presence always made you feel secure.

You felt a throbbing and wetness between your legs as you thought about him, you were getting wet. The wetness from your pussy was soaking the bed. You weren't sure what it was.

What if he gets mad at you? What if he says you're a dirty bunny girl and throws you out on the street?

Suddenly, you heard the sound of the door opening, your small bunny ears twitched gently

You lifted your head, your eyes wide with excitement, and a huge smile crossed your small face. Without waiting, you ran to the door.

He smiled as he heard the pat-pat of your tiny feet; his cute rabbit seemed to have missed him a lot

When you saw him, you jumped in his muscular arms and hugged him tightly

''I-I… m-missed… you''

Gojo grinned as he saw your cute eyes filled with love. He chuckled softly and leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He chuckled, enjoying the moment as you jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Aww, my little bunny missed me, huh?"

Slowly, he wrapped his strong arms around you, squeezing your delicate frame gently. "Well, I missed you too, my sweet. You're so adorable when you're all bundled up in my arms."

Gojo hummed as he carried you to the bedroom, setting you on the bed. He then removed his jacket and shoes, placing them in the designated spot before sitting on the bed and pulling you onto his lap.

"I'm sorry I was late today," Gojo said, gently stroking your soft hair and bunny ears, "But I'm here now''

His eyes drifted to the wet spot on the bed… it smelled like… well, arousal… He smirked slightly and chuckled

When you saw him looking at that wet spot, you immediately buried your face in his chest. Your eyes filled with shame.

You knew you had done something wrong, he was angry with you. You thought like that, your beautiful eyes filled with tears your cute voice was trembling

''S-sorry… Y/N is… sorry. I w-won't do it''

Gojo couldn't help but smirk as he looked down at the wet spot on the bed. "Well, well, looks like my little bunny is in heat, huh?" He chuckled softly

When he saw you crying, his eyes softened, and he kissed your forehead.

"Of course not, my little bunny. How could I be mad at you when you're so adorable?" And… I see my beautiful bunny seems to have a bit of a problem. And what kind of owner would I be if I didn't take care of you?''

With these words, he gently laid you on your back, your soft rabbit ears and puffy tail twitching slightly.

He took a moment to admire your body. It was so small, delicate, and completely innocent. He could see the wetness from your pussy slowly spreading on the white bedsheets, and it excited him.

Slowly, he began to undress you, taking off your clothes piece by piece, revealing your milky white skin. He kissed your ample tits gently, feeling the rapid beating of your heart before moving lower, his tongue slowly tracing the outline of your wet pussy.

Gojo smiled, looking up at you, "I'm going to take care of you, my little bunny."

"You smell so good, my sweet bunny. I can't wait to taste you."

And with that, he buried his face between your thighs,

Gojo continued to lick your juicy pussy, his tongue moving in circles around your clit. He could feel your small body squirming beneath him, your moans and whimpers filling the room.

His cock was hard, straining against his pants. He wanted to fuck you so badly, to feel your tight little hole around his cock. But he held back, wanting to make sure you were fully pleasured first.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet, my little bunny," he murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "I could eat this pretty pussy all day."

He slid two fingers inside you, feeling your tight walls clench around him. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit your G-spot. At the same time, he sucked on your cunt, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub.

''kyah~'' you squeal cutely

Gojo could feel your delicate body tensing, your moans growing louder. He smirked, knowing that you were close to orgasm. He increased his pace, licking and fingering your juicy, puffy pussy more vigorously.

"Cum for me, my little bunny," he growled, his eyes locked onto you.

It didn't take long for you to lose your composure, your small body arching off the bed as you came hard, your pussy clenching around Gojo's fingers and tongue. He continued to lick and suck until your orgasm subsided, the taste of your cum making his cock ache with desire.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he sat back on his heels, admiring the flushed cheeks and messy hair of his bunny. He gently wiped away the strands of hair that fell into your cute eyes, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

"Good girl," he praised, breaking the kiss to remove his clothes, leaving him fully naked before you. "Now it's my turn to be pleasured." With that, he positioned himself between your legs, his large cock pressing against your entrance. "Ready for me, little bunny?"

Your eyes widened in fear as you looked at his cock; what was he going to do with it? Will he put that big, veiny thing inside you…?

Gojo smirked and caressed your hair, "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. I promise~" With that, he slowly pushed his cock into your tight pussy, feeling your body adjust to his size. He paused, looking into your eyes, ensuring you were okay before resuming his thrusts, slowly at first, building speed and intensity.

He gripped your plump hips tightly, his cock sliding in and out of your wet heat, the sound of the bodies meeting filling the room. The sensation of your pussy gripping his cock was enough to make him moan, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight." he panted, his pace quickening as he neared his climax. "I will fill you up with my cum."

''I-I~ Ah~hah~!

His eyes locked onto your twitching bunny ears as he fucked you, he couldn't help and reached up to grab your soft, fluffy bunny ears. He gave them a gentle tug, watching your face contort with pleasure.

He loved how sensitive they were, and how you reacted with such a cute little whimper whenever he touched them.

"These ears are so cute," he purred, his fingers stroking the velvety fur. "I love how they twitch every time I touch them."

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he grabbed your soft bunny ears, gently tugging on them. He loved how sensitive they were, and how you reacted with such a cute little whimper whenever he touched them.

He continued to thrust into your tight pussy, his cock hitting all the right spots inside your pussy. Your cute moans and whimpers only spurred him on, making him want to fuck you harder, faster

''A-Ah~''

"That's it, let me hear those sweet sounds~" Gojo encouraged, his grip on your hips tightening.

He could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your body tensing as you neared your climax. His orgasm was rapidly approaching, his cock throbbing inside your small cunt.

"Come for me, little bunny," he growled, his thrusts were becoming erratic. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard, filling your puffy pussy with his hot, thick cum. He continued to rock his hips, riding out the waves of his orgasm, ensuring that every last drop of his seed was buried deep inside you.

Finally, panting and sweaty, he collapsed on top of you, his cock still buried inside you. He peppered your small, flushed face with kisses, whispering sweet words of love and affection.

"That was incredible, my little bunny," he murmured, gently stroking your hair. "You took your owner's cock so well."

He slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum began to drip out of your well-used pussy. Gojo smirked, feeling a sense of pride knowing that he had marked his sweet bunny as his.

"Stay right there, little bunny," he instructed, moving to grab a warm towel from the bathroom. "I'm going to clean you up."

He gently wiped away the sweat and cum from your small cunt, taking extra care to clean your sensitive pussy.

Once done, he lay down next to you, pulling your fragile frame close for a tender embrace. He kissed your forehead and nuzzled his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply as he savored the scent of you.

He strokes your soft tail, eliciting a soft giggle from you. The combination of your cute laugh and the bunny ears and tail.

He whispered, his voice still thick with lust. "You are too adorable for this world, Bunny-chan~"

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter eight)

18+ 5.5k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, suicidal ideation/close call, dubcon, oral sex, penetrative sex. fic directory | AO3

It isn’t love like they tell it in fairy tales. It’s love the way the poets write it. It’s blood and tears, a gnawing hunger that eats you from the inside out, leaves you empty and clawing to cram something into yourself as replacement. It’s love like an infection, a fever that never fades. It’s devotion and yearning that runs so deep it turns into violence.

For the next several mornings, you make breakfast as usual.

The heat of the gas range and the hissing sizzle of the eggs are always slightly muffled. Time itself moves strangely around you, like you’re standing under a waterfall flowing in reverse. Minutes tick on like hours, but the hours go by without you noticing them at all. 

As the days–they could be weeks, you’ve stopped keeping track–pass, that night of intimacy with Homelander feels more and more like a fever dream than a memory. If you really try, however, the details of it are simple enough to recall, if not a touch hazy. 

The part of it that’s a struggle is believing any of it actually happened. When you do put your mind to remembering it, it’s as though it happened to someone else. You were an outsider to your body, and now that you’re yourself again, you’re left to ponder the actions of that stranger.

It’s your body that holds onto the reality of it for you. Your stomach still feels faintly tender from the nausea and vertigo of flying. The penthouse air feels stale in your lungs compared to the winds whipping above the city. Your heart pounds whenever your jaw feels tight with the memory of his hand clamped over your mouth, but perhaps the most vexing aspect of it all is the way the throb of your pulse now echoes loudest between your legs.

How your fear now comes laced with an unwanted tinge of arousal.

You’d been left alone that night while Homelander attended a Vought function. He hadn’t been gone long; just long enough for you to bathe. You hadn’t felt up to eating, but he didn’t notice. He’d only cared about coming home, about taking you back into his arms, about breathing in the shower fresh smell of you and exhaling mine into the crook of your neck.

Never before have you felt more like a toy, a possession, a belonging than you did in that moment.

He hasn't touched you like that again since, though you think he aches to. You feel it in the way he squeezes your thigh when you watch movies together, how his hand drifts gradually higher, but it never progresses further than that. Sometimes he’ll press against you in bed, but so long as you lay very still, he eventually drifts to sleep.

When he’s gone, you touch yourself. The ache is there, the pleasure faint, but it’s never quite enough to put you over the edge. It’s never enough to give you the kind of relief–the kind of escape–you felt with him. Your body feels like kindling without a spark, the sensations empty.

You wonder what it would take to prompt him back into that kind of frenzy, that single-minded drive to pleasure you. Would he do it again if he saw you crying?

I’m doing this for you. For us. I’m doing this because you don’t know how to let yourself be happy.

Could he have been right? Have you ever really known how to make yourself happy?

A touch to your waist snaps you from your introspection, startles you into jerking. The pan in your grip would have gone flying if not for Homelander’s hand on your elbow, steadying you.

You completely forgot you were cooking breakfast.

“Eggs are burning,” he tells you, reducing the gas to nothing. They’re far from black, but it doesn’t take much to turn eggs from edible to rancid, the sulphuric smell burning your nose. You can only imagine the havoc it’s wreaking on him.

It isn’t the first time you’ve burned a meal since that night. His tone indicates he’s come to expect it.

“Oh,” you say noncommittally, staring at the curled dark edges, the solid yellow yolk.

His hand slides absently from your hip to your waist. He’s become so familiar in these casual touches, they don’t even make your heart lurch in your chest anymore.

“It’s fine,” he says, clearly reading disappointment in your indifference. The timbre of his voice is ambiguous, but somehow you don’t really think it’s fine. He must be losing his patience with you. His arms slip around your waist like two coiling serpents. “Plenty of time for you to start over.”

Still, he wants you to fix it. Burned eggs don’t suit this idyllic fantasy.

Why bother? you wonder. He peppers light kisses on your neck, lips brushing over a kiss-bruised patch of skin. The heat of his mouth makes you shiver, makes your belly feel tight and hot. You can’t tell anymore whether the heat is anger or arousal. You’re not even going to eat it.

Nevertheless, you scrape out the botched eggs and start over, keenly aware of your pulse echoing faintly between your thighs, and the weight of Homelander’s gaze on you.

Predictably, you eat, and he toys with his food like it’s all a silly game of make-believe. Plastic eggs, foam toast, pretend girlfriend. Homelander’s obsession exists not in what’s real, but in the performance of domesticity. Every day, the idea of what’s real becomes a little more subjective. A little more abstract.

When he goes to leave, he kisses your cheek.

“Thank god it’s Friday,” he says, your chin pinched between his bare thumb and middle forefinger knuckle. He’s taken to touching you more and more without his gloves on. “I made sure I don’t have any weekend obligations, which means you–lucky lady–finally get me all to yourself.”

That’s new. Normally his weekends are even busier than his week.

Sensing his anticipation for your positive reaction, you smile faintly. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

His eyes widen just a fraction, as does his smile. It’s something of an experiment, a deviation from your automatic daily “Have a good day,” and you see the excitement of it written plainly in his expression.

“I won’t,” he says, softer, grip flexing minutely on your chin. He tarries just long enough that you begin to think he may not leave after all. Instead, he takes in a breath and drops his hand to the door panel, using his print to disengage the lock. 

“This will be good for us,” he says quietly, lingering in the doorway for just a moment longer than usual.

The door closes behind him. The green circle turns blue, and the locking mechanism re-engaging is the last bit of noise you hear. The door is thick enough that you don’t even hear his steps echo down the hallway.

Crossing your arms, you stand there for a while, staring at the door. The number pad is shiny from disuse, the buttons a gleaming silver. You’ve never seen him bother to input the code. Testing them without pressing, they’re cool to the touch under your finger, and after a beat, you input a code.

0476. America’s birthday.

The blue circle flashes red, and you sigh. You would have been angry with yourself if it’d been that easy anyways. 

For another day, you whittle your hours away on nothing, distant from yourself and your feelings. Music drones in your ears like static. Television feels alien and incomprehensible. The whole world is upside down, but it’s as though you’re the only one who’s noticed, who’s being forced to adapt.

Terrible as it is to think, the days are better when Homelander’s here.

You walk the penthouse in familiar patterns like a zoo animal in a too-small enclosure, bereft of enrichment. Knowing what you know about him, it feels like giving him too much credit to think the deprivation is intentional, that he’s putting in an effort to make you miss him in the time he’s gone. It seems more likely that he really is just incredibly ignorant of the basic needs a person has.

You’re not an animal. You’re more like a doll that he puts on the shelf until he’s ready to play with you again.

Coming to the balcony, you pull open the door and step outside, hand tight on the door frame. The wind lashes at you, stealing your breath for a split second in the way it always does before you adjust. It’s bright out today, the sky a crisp blue. It’s the kind of rich blue you’d never normally see through the smog on ground level, which always leaves it desaturated.

The clouds look near enough to touch, were you brave enough. Even standing just outside the doorway, your bare feet against the ice cold cement, is enough to make you weak in the knees. Your heart knocks against your ribs like it means to escape, but the feeling has grown so familiar, you don’t back away.

The fear, you realize, is the only thing that makes you feel present in your own body. 

Living with Homelander has forced you to swallow back your instincts so frequently, it comes more naturally now to take a step forward than to run away, your hand slipping from the doorway.

Your heart is in your throat as you near the middle point of the balcony, more and more of the city below coming into view. Your breaths grow shallow, and despite how calm you think you are, your stomach launches into a series of violent somersaults, your eyes glued to the thinning edge of the balcony.

No matter how tattered your thoughts and feelings are, your body reacts. It knows how to keep you safe. It screams and screams and screams as you press on.

There’s nothing around you to steady or brace yourself on. You feel imbalanced, top-heavy in a way that makes you sway, your poor heart lurching with it. You’re too scared to blink, unwilling to risk even a split second of darkness for the fear you might pitch forward.

Closing your eyes only makes it worse, reminds Homelander, his voice unbidden in your mind.

It’ll pass.

It’s worth it.

Trust me.

“Why?” you snap aloud, startling yourself. Why, even now, is he with you?

What’s your alternative?

The air is thin out here. Your eyes water, buffeted by the winds. Your chest feels tighter now, and every breath you take is more hard fought than the last, your lungs constricted. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, though the wind is quick to wick them away.

Your whole body sings with your fear. The adrenaline feels like an extra layer of skin beneath yours, filling your veins with tension and strength. The longer you endure it, the more aware of yourself and that change you become. You take another step towards the edge. Your mouth is sandpaper dry, pins and needles prickling your skin all over. 

Don’t look down. Look out.

You lift your gaze to the horizon, exhaling a shaky breath. You take another tentative step forward, relieved when your foot hits solid ground. You can’t see exactly where the ledge ends anymore. Another step, and then another. There’s nothing to hold you back. Nothing to keep you from walking.

Finally, you close your eyes, and move to step forward.

You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you?

You gasp, eyes snapping open. Your balance waivers, and as your gaze drops, you see the empty space where your foot was about to fall.

 If not for yourself, you’ll do that for me, yeah?

You pitch yourself backwards so hard that you fall, landing on your ass with a pained noise. You choke on the tension in your throat, your whole body shaking as you haul yourself backwards, bare feet scratching against the pavement. You flip onto your hands and knees and clamber back inside, hastily slamming the door shut behind you before you let go a gut wrenching sob, the sound of it strained, agonized, barely enough breath in your lungs to birth it. 

You put your back to the door and you cry until your voice runs hoarse, until all the muscles in your stomach hurt and your tears run dry. It’s an ugly, visceral cry that leaves you dizzy and weak-limbed, the space behind your eyes throbbing in a dull headache.

There is an alternative. You’re going to find it.

Eventually you manage to drag yourself up from the floor and to the bedroom. The exhaustion that hits in the wake of your–what, lapse in judgment? Temporary insanity? Whatever you call it, it’s left you so worn out that all you can do is collapse on the bed, your muscles aching.

From the ceiling, your reflection stares back at you. You hardly recognize that face as yours anymore. Time and time again she makes choices that aren’t yours and experiences the world in a way you never could have imagined.

Homelander may have convinced you to look at yourself, but only now do you think you’re starting to see yourself as you are. As you must be.

You close your eyes, exhaling a slow breath. You begin to forget the balcony, the steps forward, the fall. It slots into a distant place somewhere in the back of your mind–where all things like it go–and after a time you’re left with nothing but the thrumming of your own body.

The echo of fear and thrill. The memory of adrenaline coursing through you like fuel, like poison, like divinity. Never before have you felt the kind of power you did when you took those steps. Fear has no control over you. It wasn’t even what stopped you.

You stopped yourself. You took control.

It leaves you electrified. You touch your tingling fingertips to your lips, where the numbness of them makes them feel like someone else’s. You trail them down your chin, your jaw, your throat. Instead of fighting it, you lean into the idea of this other you.

Hand drifting lower, you close your eyes. Instantly that haunting night comes back to you: Homelander’s mouth on your neck, your chest, your lips, his fingers curling inside you while you–that stranger behind your eyes–gasped in pleasure and kissed him back.

You try to replicate his touch. Slow, firm, full of desire and intent. Your stomach flips at the memory of it. How he kissed you like he meant to devour you, how enraptured he became with your pleasure. 

I’ll make you happy if you’d just let me.

Swallowing, you skirt your fingers along the waistband of your pants, teasing the exposed skin there. He had taken your fear, your anguish, and twisted it into something with teeth. 

Something inside you that hungered.

You have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.

Slipping under the fabric, you push your fingers into your underwear and touch yourself in every way you remember him touching you.

The chill of your fingers–still cold from the balcony–is stark against the heat between your legs. Your pussy feels velvety under your fingers, soft and slick with arousal. 

Look who’s all wet.

You let out a shuddering breath. Trying to replicate his touch only drives home how wholly inhuman he really felt. The unyielding strength in him, how his fingers felt like anchors inside you, grounding you, keeping you so entirely at his mercy that you had no choice but to let go, to give in.

There’s no such plausible deniability here. He’s gone, and yet here you are envisioning him, imitating him, allowing the version of him in your mind to have what you’d been sure he would always have to take. You screw your eyes shut tighter, exhaling a throaty noise as you push your fingers sharply in.

Your hips rock steadily. The harder you try, the less right it feels. You attempt to relax, to let yourself focus on what it feels like now instead of what it felt like then, what it felt like with him. How relentless he was, peppering insistent kisses everywhere he could reach. You touch your neck, press into the tender mark he sucked there. Your pussy clenches at the sensation, and finally you feel as though you’re on the right track.

Something electric begins to crackle inside you. A low, dull pressure that builds gradually. You deepen your breaths, finding a rhythm, losing yourself piece by piece to the dozens of hands pulling at you in your mind. Tearing your clothes, sinking into you, holding you pinned, all of it impossibly happening at once while you’re simultaneously ravaged by lips, tongue and teeth.

Your eyes snap open when a grip like steel snatches your wrist, shocking you out of your fantasy.

Homelander stands over you.

His vibrant blue eyes are dark and glazed over, his lips parted. He’s not looking at you, but instead at your glistening fingers. He tilts your hand, enraptured by how the wetness of them catches the light. 

A visceral rush moves through you, heat and shame and excitement and outrage all in dizzying measure. You move to yank your hand back, but despite the looseness of his grip, the curl of his fingers is unyielding. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

With his other hand braced on the headboard, he leans in at the same time he pulls you closer, his eyes falling shut as he sucks two of your fingers into his mouth.

The heat of it shocks you all over, makes your stomach drop in a hot and sudden broil. His tongue slides up the seam between your fingers, pushing between them, licking away every single trace of slickness from them.

“Homelander,” you rasp, tone ambiguous in the flux of your inner turmoil.

His eyes open part way, landing on you heavy and hungry. He pulls your fingers from his mouth with an obscene, wet noise. His tongue moves over his top lip in a slow slide, dipping around his sharp canines. His breaths are shallow, nostrils flaring on every heavy inhale. He’s barely tasted you and yet he looks drunk on it, cheeks flushed red.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks, his voice guttural, raw with open and eager desire.

For once, the truth and what you know he wants to hear are one in the same. It sits on your tongue with the weight of an anchor, his expectant gaze a bottomless ocean. 

If you give it to him, are you prepared to sink?

What’s your alternative?

“You.”

Homelander groans. 

He releases your hand and takes hold of your hips instead, yanking you to the edge of the bed with such ease of force it makes you gasp. He yanks your pants off with a sharp pull, though he manages not to tear them this time.

The feverishness that he touches you with makes your whole body sing, instantly sparking the ember you’d been tending into a blazing fire. Your blood races with adrenaline, desire surging alongside instinctual fear, the two intermingling to the point where you can no longer discern one from the other.

“I was thinking about yesterday,” you say, breath hitching for the way he kisses his way down your stomach, fingers biting into your hips.  “The way you touched me.”

Like gasoline splashed over a flame, your words intensify the ravenous fire of him. He sinks to his knees, your legs hitched over his shoulders, peppering kisses along your inner thigh, hands cupped under your ass, which he’s pulled completely off the bed.

Your heart thunders in your chest while his hot huffs of breath so close to where you’re wet and wanting make you shiver. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, the thrum of his restraint an effortless reminder of all that he is, all that he’s capable of. The awareness of how easily he could tear you apart is no longer frightening. Instead, it’s the understanding that he won’t that thrills you. 

In the same way you couldn’t stop him when he wanted to please you, if Homelander wanted to hurt you, you couldn’t stop him. There is a surreal freedom in that, a permission to let go of the weight of fear and responsibility for yourself, for your actions.

Reap the reward.

He kisses all the way to the core of you, where his mouth closes over your clit, hot and wet and devouring. His tongue slides around and over, the rolling pull of his lips coaxing a deeper pleasure. 

All the while he holds you firmly in place, trapping you in relentless euphoria. His mouth is just as merciless as the rest of him, never needing to pause or take a breath. He’s machine-like in his rigor, but the fervor of his consumption is decidedly animalistic.

You can hardly catch your breath in the onslaught. Reaching down, you thread your fingers into his hair–it’s softer than it has any right to be–and pull hard. That earns you a throaty moan from him, the vibrations of it adding an entirely new element of sensation.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. His tongue moves down, focusing instead on fucking you in shallow but powerful thrusts. The strength of it, the underlying hum of barely contained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina drives you wild against his mouth.

Between plunging his tongue into you and sucking on your clit, he drinks you down noisily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. You use what little leeway his grip allows to grind against his tongue, riding the tidal wave of your building release all the way to the top. 

His hand slides inward, fingers splayed to support your weight while his thumb dips deep enough to slip into you, finally giving your pussy something solid to squeeze. It’s enough to tip you over the edge. You push your other hand into his hair and hold on for dear life, arching your back with a cry that fills the entire penthouse as pleasure overtakes you, crashing down on you like a tsunami.

Like before, Homelander doesn’t take your climax alone as an invitation to stop. A man possessed, he licks, sucks and kisses your throbbing clit through every single aftershock of your orgasm. Pleasure eventually trails into discomfort, a slight tingling burn that finally gives you the strength to push him away.

He doesn’t relent right away, too lost in you to feel the meager protest. You push harder, making a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, overstimulated, and he finally withdraws, giving one last noisy slurp before setting you back on the bed and rising. He’s painting, face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown completely black.

In your euphoria addled delirium, the look of him makes you want to run far away as much as it makes you want to kiss him.

Licking his lips, he crawls up your body, his gaze still predator hungry. You catch his face between your palms, your breaths still shallow, and marvel at how raw he looks. 

For all your fears about what he could be hiding from you, Homelander has never been anything but brutishly upfront. He told you who and what he was the moment you woke up in his bed. You can understand his logic now–why bother muddying the waters with needless lies? He never deceived you because he wanted you to know who he was, and who he expected you to be.

Even now, he is an open book to you. Your pleasure is mine, his expression declares. The claim is in his eyes, shining on his lips, in the heady scent of it on his breath. You are mine.

And he is, without a shadow of a doubt, yours.

You trace his bottom lip with your thumb, transfixed by the way he followed it, pressing wet kisses to the pad. You tilt your thumb forward, grazing his teeth. His bottom canines are sharp, and when you press your thumb down on one of them, he closes his lips around it, sucking on it with a needy little noise that lances heat straight through you. 

Despite the immensity of his power, he’s malleable in your hands. You pull, he follows, huffing out shallow little breaths. You pull your thumb away and he looks at you with cloudy eyes, brows tightly pinched. Between your bodies, he fusses with his belt until it clicks loose.

“Stop,” you breathe, pressing a hand to his chest.

His expression twists, damn near wounded. “Wha–why? I thought–”

You kiss him before he can put himself in another rejection induced spiral, licking the words right out of his mouth before you say, “Take the suit off.”

Another soft groan from him before he’s lifting off of you, unfastening his suit. You take the opportunity to shed the last of your layers, your heart racing. You half expected him to rush, to fumble in his hurriedness, but despite his obvious excitement, he’s methodical in removing his suit, placing it on the rack in the way he always does.

It’s almost long enough to give you time to think about what you’re doing, about whether the pounding in your chest is thrill or not. That same primal part of you is shouting to run, and you are running, just not away. You’re tired of running away. This time, you’re running headlong into Homelander.

And he catches you.

He’s upon you before you can examine it any further, bare skin hot against yours. He kisses the column of your throat, breathing you in.

At the first nudge of his cock, a breathy little noise escapes you. He savors grinding the head of it tantalizingly against your clit, moving through the mess he’s made of you. You’re soaking wet, thighs coated in saliva and slick. He presses his chest down against yours and the heat of him makes you shiver. 

He isn’t putting his full weight down on you, but the sheer force of him over you is suffocating. Breathing makes you feel as though you’re pressed against a brick wall, stifling you. Trapping you. You start to shake your head.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” you say, fighting the welling panic in your throat. “Roll over. On your back.”

Confused but not opposed, he does as he’s told, moving off of you and onto his back. You swing your leg over him, and he instantly understands, grasping your hips to help gather you into position over him. His lips split into a wide grin, dark eyes glinting wickedly.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, squeezing your hips. There’s a giddiness to him, like part of him didn’t believe that this would happen, much less that you would ever be the one leading it.

Straddling his thighs, sitting just behind his cock, you can feel the tension of his excitement thrumming throughout his body. With control on your side, you move forward, reaching between your legs to angle him into the right position.

His grip on you flexes as he fights with himself to stay still while you descend slowly, the swell of him splitting you open in one slow, hot slide.

Gravity brings you down most of the way, but a jerk of his hips that he pulls you into bottoms him out, and you both gasp with the suddenness of it, your body locking up around his throbbing cock.

“Sorry, sorry,” he pants, but his grip doesn’t ease. Like he’s lost control of himself, he holds you firmly in place while he fucks you, watching you through heavily lidded eyes, lips parted. “S’good, s’fuckin’–so fucking good,” he moans, expression twisting in pleasure. 

It’s too much all at once–Homelander always is–but you take it, gripping his wrists. He fucks like a machine, each thrust a shock to your system, momentum building into quicker, harder thrusts.

“S-slow down,” you half moan, practically choking on the overwhelming fullness of him inside you. He isn’t thrusting in and out so much as he’s grinding into you in shallow bursts, carving out the shape of himself within you like he intends never to leave.

“Take me so good,” he murmurs, and if not for the slight slow down of his thrusts, you’d think he didn’t hear you. He sits up, the ease with which he moves even with you on top of him still throwing you for a loop. “Knew you would, knew you’d be mine, all mine. Made just for me.”

His hands slide up your body, one arm moving around your waist while his hand slides up to cup the back of your head. He kisses you, pins your chest to his, ensures you feel every ounce of his desperation to be with you, near you, inside you.

It’s more than being fucked–it’s like being taken apart so that you can be put back together around him. A permanent emptiness in his perfect image.

You were not made for him. You have been remade.

The next thing you know, Homelander is standing up, your legs hitched around his waist, ankles locked behind him. You wrap your arms around his neck and gasp for the way the position brings him in deeper yet, every bounce on his cock heavier now.

“Look at me,” he rasps. You don’t remember closing your eyes, but you open them at his prompt, looking at him through the delirium of heat and pleasure. His dark eyes are glassy, and he’s looking at you with such raw, vulnerable love that it makes your heart twist in agony. “I love you.”

You take a breath, your own eyes welling with tears, and you kiss him.

I believe you, you think, tears rolling down your cheeks while the pressure of climax builds steadily back up.

It isn’t love like they tell it in fairy tales. It’s love the way the poets write it. It’s blood and tears, a gnawing hunger that eats you from the inside out, leaves you empty and clawing to cram something into yourself as replacement.

It’s love like an infection, a fever that never fades. It’s devotion and yearning that runs so deep it turns into violence. It’s desperation and the all consuming desire to be accepted for what you are, no matter the ugliness of it. It’s the most raw form of need a person is capable of.

It’s survival.

The kiss breaks and he presses his forehead to yours, your shallow breaths mingling hot and wet in the narrow space between your mouths.

The rest of the world falls away in jagged pieces–circumstance, fear, pity, hatred, pain–and narrows only to the two of you; your bodies joined, your gazes fixed on one another, and the electric pleasure of the friction between you.

“I–” you gasp, choking on your own words as he fucks you to the razors edge of release. “I love you, too.”

Maybe he’s broken you, or maybe it’s impossible to live in madness without going a little mad yourself. 

He makes a noise like you’ve gutted him, eyes screwed shut. He slams in once, twice, thrice more and you lose yourself to the heat of it all, breath stolen from your lungs by the crash of release that overwhelms your every sense.

You lose track of time, of the hammer of his body against yours. He comes shortly after, stilling deep inside you with a rush so hot that it makes you gasp into the crook of his neck, where you let yourself collapse. You’re dead weight in his arms, but you may as well weigh nothing at all for the toll it takes on him.

Sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, he embraces you like that for a long while. Your euphoria keeps you on a cloud somewhere high above, serving as cushioning between how you feel and what you know. Just like yesterday, mindless pleasure is an intoxicating reprieve from reality, and you’re thoroughly drunk on it.

He rubs your back in slow familiar patterns. You idly toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, which prompts him to pepper you in languid kisses. Touching you like this comes to him as naturally as breathing. Your bodies slot together like two pieces of a puzzle that were long lost from each other.

“See?” he whispers, easing your bodies down onto the bed, under the covers. “I didn’t break you.”

You offer a dazed smile, not quite as certain that he didn’t. Your pelvis aches slightly, an overall tenderness to you akin to the pain you’d feel the day after a particularly hard fall.

That isn’t the ache you’re concerned about, though. It’s the one in your chest that gives you pause.

“There’s still time.”

His brows furrow while he processes the words, but after a beat, he smiles, taking it as a playful challenge.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

Yes, you think, settling your head on his chest, listening to the steady pound of his heart. I certainly am.

Exhaling a deep breath, you close your eyes, content to allow yourself this respite, however brief.

In hindsight, you will always remember this moment as the quiet just before the storm.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xiv  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Love and (Internal) War 

Series mlist 

Tags — possibly offensive humour, Megumi’s self hatred peeking through, oblivious idiot yn 

Words — 1.2k 

The soft knock echoed throughout your otherwise lifeless room, a reminder that the boy on your mind was more than just text bubbles on a screen. You let out a low sound of acknowledgment, sliding off of your plush bed. The floor felt cold beneath you, the wood pressing firmly against the soles of your feet. 

You opened the door, the hinges creaking ever so quietly in the midst of the nights peace. It was late, very much so, but you were sure many of your neighbours were awake. That’s what students did, cramming everything into one short span of hours, usually at the most inconvenient times of night. By now, though, Megumi was usually asleep. It was something you often teased him for, referred to him as an old man. Truth be told, he just loved sleeping. There wasn’t much more to say. So why was he standing in your hallway looking like a lost dog? 

“Hey,” you said, shuffling to the side as an indirect invitation for him to come in. He took it, though hesitantly, as if he hadn’t been the one to show up here in the first place. “What’s up? Are you okay?” you asked. 

You gently pressed the door closed behind you, lingering in front of it, trying to gauge his mood. Your first instinct was to assume something had happened, something bad. Showing up at your dorm at 2 in the morning was a bold move for any average, semi-social person, let alone for Megumi. He shook his head, as if to shoot down any conclusions you’d jumped to. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie he’d haphazardly thrown on as he left his room, a snoring Yuji in the background. He spoke again, a mumble so quiet you’d think it hurt him to say. “…and I wanted to see you.” 

At this, the tension in your shoulders faded, the harsh lines taking up your face smoothing out. Instead it was replaced by a grin, and the hidden bashfulness that came with the way your heart sped up at his confession. 

“What was that?” you smirked, tilting your head in feigned confusion. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he deadpanned. You let out a laugh, probably too high in volume for the hour. 

“Yeah, sorry. I missed you too.” 

Your shoulder gently brushed against his as you passed him, and the small touch sent too many sparks flying over his skin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that he so desperately tried to avoid that longing, that feeling he only felt upon seeing your face, but somehow always found himself here. Well, not exactly here, but with you. No matter the place, he always found himself chasing you like you were all he needed. Like you were home. Maybe you were. 

You plopped down on the bed, the covers rustling beneath you. You gave a discreet nod to the place beside you, noticing the way he stood near the door, barely moving. Did he have to be so mysterious all of the time? So guarded? 

He sat by your side, looking ahead. Anyone could very easily tell something was bothering him, anyone that knew him well enough, at least. He was more tense than he usually was, his walls seeming higher than ever. Though with added height came the crushing weight on the body of them, leaving cracks and holes for hints of vulnerability to seep from. 

“Megumi,” you whispered, a careful hand finding its home on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” 

He was silent for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he contemplated whether he would be honest or not. His fingers twitched in his pockets, itching to move. They didn’t. 

“How was your date?” he asked, though a bitter feeling resided in his mouth once he spoke. Was that too forward? Too obvious? Were you about to kick him out and push him away? In his mind, those four simple words were as close to any sort of confession he was ready to give. In the few months since the two of you were reunited, he’d felt his walls be slowly chipped away, no matter how hard he fought it. With you, he just couldn’t. It was inevitable, and he was beginning to feel like that same stupid boy he was all those years ago. Stupid stupid boy, falling for you. In his mind, you were the sun and he was simple one of billions of stars yearning for your light. He could never amount to who he wanted to be, to be what you deserved. Wait.. falling for you? Had he just admitted that to himself? 

You paused. Was that what was wrong? Your date? You didn’t understand why such a thing would bother him, let alone enough for him to lose sleep and show up at your dorm in the earliest hours of the morning. “It was nice… he’s nice. Why? Do you not like him?” 

He stole a quick glance at you, softly shaking his head. “I’m not exactly fond of him, no.” 

“Oh?” you said, tilting your head softly to the side. “I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about him.” He let out a soft sigh, mindlessly grabbing a book off of your nightstand. He was all too aware of your hand on his shoulder, how close you were sitting to him, and it felt wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Mm,” he said, examining the cover. He felt an odd need to make conversation, which made him sure he was losing it. When was he ever one to speak when not necessary? Who even was he? You took notice of this, knowing that he must’ve just been distracting himself from whatever deeper level of the situation was nagging at him. “You have good taste in books,” he said. 

For some reason, the compliment sounded much better coming from him than it did from Noritoshi. You summed it up to the fact that Megumi was more familiar, which wasn’t completely a lie, but… you knew better than that. 

You spent the next couple of hours talking about everything and nothing in between comfortable silences and shared looks. Whether it was literature, your classes, your friends, hell, you even talked about politics, it was all so comfortable with him. Things felt as if they were meant to be that way. And then, before you knew it, the two of you were slumped against eachother, halfway lying down as you slept in each others arms. He’d mindlessly held you in his sleep, something that came to him subconsciously, as if embracing you was muscle memory. You hadn’t protested, even as you stirred and occasionally gained some of your consciousness. It was just one night, wasn’t it? At least he was sleeping at all. You were just comforting him, that was all. 

Neither of you would voice it, but it was the best you’d slept in a long time. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry

sighhh I love them lwk been distracted from bttoh tho been nurturing the farmhand yuji fic a lil too much… nb gonna read ts are they cries anyway ermmmm can you guys not kill me or yourselves after the coming chapters release pretty please… with a cherry on top…

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Ever Since We Met

Spoiler: Jason dies in the warehouse. ~1.5k words

Jason Todd is six years old and snot nosed when he falls in love with his best friend. Sure, he doesn't exactly know what love is, but he makes sure he's standing next to you when the class lines up so he can hold your hand.

He gets a weird feeling in his stomach (he’s not completely convinced that it’s jealousy, despite what the teacher tries to explain) when you follow other kids around the playground instead of him.

But, he does recognize the excitement he feels when you seek him out to be coloring partners during class instead of the girl sitting next to you.

He loves you as much as a six year old can. Especially when he gets to sleep over at your house and you turn your bed into a fortress of blankets and pillows for you both to sleep in. Those nights are his favorite, and you both drift off to whispered stories and hushed giggles.

Jason Todd is ten years old and getting used to growing pains when he develops a crush on his best friend. At least, he thinks it’s a crush. It feels different than being in love, even if he hasn’t quite grasped the fact that he is in love.

He's more hyper aware of what he does now, how he treats you. Sometimes, the way you smile makes him stumble over his words, and his face go hot. He distracts himself and you from it by asking about homework or that one TV show you that you watch on Saturday mornings.

Jason decides he likes that you’ll press to his side when you’re reading, lost in your own worlds together without a need to fill the silence, crush or not.

He likes that you’ll trade half of your sandwich for his and sneak him doodles and notes during class. (He won’t admit it, but he keeps them in a box under his bed. Sometimes they’re the only reason he doesn’t run away from it all)

He doesn’t bother to mask his obvious preference for you, even when the other kids try to tease him for his crush.

You’re always quick to threaten anyone who tries to put him down, anyway, and he’s more than happy to do the same for you. And when you offer him a high five for scaring off some of the older kids, He decides it doesn’t matter if it’s a crush or not, as long as you stay his best friend.

Jason Todd is twelve when he becomes Robin. It’s hard, well, not being Robin, that’s a magic entirely its own, but being away from you.

He lives in a manor that's bigger than the entire floor of the apartment building he used to live in. He's learned how to do a backflip while throwing a punch in midair. He has more at his fingertips now than he's ever had in the entire first eleven years of his life.

But he misses you. Sometimes, it feels like a phantom limb. Something he's always reaching for, but never quite grasping. It helps that you've gotten a scholarship to his new school, but it's still not enough.

He can't explain it, but he gets greedy for your time. You don't seem to mind the sporadic hangouts, or how often he has to cancel or leave. He kind of wishes you would, just to show that you care as much as he does.

He redoubles his efforts to be a good Robin when you tell him about the dealer that moved into the apartment next to yours. He resolves to be a better friend when you tell him the fancy suits he has to wear to galas look good on him.

His feelings don't change once, even if he hasn't quite found a balance between vigilante and civilian, he knows you're the one thing he can't let go of.

Jason is fifteen years old and about to die when he realizes the person he wants to see most is you. He's always known it, in the back of his mind, but as the blaring red numbers tick lower and lower, he just wishes he could hear your voice one more time.

It's you. Always been. And he's never said it. Never let you know.

His body aches. His leg is twisted the wrong way. His breathing is shallow and raspy. His vision is blurring, and he wants to live. But his mom is still trapped in this warehouse with him, and he's Robin. Robin helps, and that's what he'll do.

Jason drags himself to his mother's side to help, moves despite the gnawing, indescribable pain with every movement.

He's still trying to help, trying to sheild her from harm, as the numbers drop to zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.

What happens next doesn't hurt more than anything else did. And he has enough time to picture the color of your eyes before it all goes to black.

Jason Todd is eighteen when he dons the name Red Hood and becomes Gotham's biggest crime lord in a matter of months.

He stays far away from you, even if your memory has haunted him since the moment he woke up in that cursed pit. (and if he tries to remember, the moment since he first woke up in his own grave)

He's eighteen still, when his empire crumbles and he's left without a path, a purpose. He carries the weight of his years with the league, sags under the strain of not knowing who he is anymore.

He stays far away from you, sticks to the cracks and shadows of Gotham until his name is no longer whispered in fear. Then, and only then, is he brave enough to take off his helmet in front of you.

It's a relief and a terror all at once to finally see the color of your eyes from something other than a memory, and when his heartbeat starts to stutter, he knows he's never really grown out of being in love with you.

You've gotten older. (He shouldn't be surprised, he has too. He just always pictured you growing old together)

Your eyes still light up like he's your favorite person in the room. (He thinks he's allowed to be surprised about that)

But it's when you breathe out that he's home, that he figures out you've been waiting for him. Neither of you seem to know what to say after that, but you don't run for the hills in terror. And for the moment, that's enough.

Jason is twenty-one and passing the first (legally) acquired bottle of alcohol you've ever bought. You laugh about how it still tastes the same, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the sound.

He loves you. It sings in his blood, settles on his tongue, he just doesn't know how to say it. He shows it, or at least he tries, but sometimes he's still waiting for this all to be a dream. It should have been impossible, how easily he slipped back into your life.

It was easy. So easy. Everything was easy with you. That's probably why he spills his guts.

He doesn't quite say it the right way, doesn't manage to get the word 'love' out. But he says enough to get his feelings out.

It's not poetic, not grand as you deserve, but somehow he manages to articulate the way butterflies create a hurricane in his stomach when you're around, how his gaze is always drawn to you, how he can't help but lean into the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch.

Maybe he says a little too much about how he's been head over heels since the day you've met, because you just stare at him.

He's almost ready to run, to blame it all on the one measly shot he's had. This is, until you kiss him. And oh, it's everything he never dared to dream it would be.

It's a little messy, sure, the angle a little strange as you crane across the couch to tangle your fingers in his hair. But it's perfect, it's you, and Jason falls in love all over again.

Jason Todd is twenty-three and still learning how to say I love you. It's not that he loves you any less, if anything, he loves you now more than ever. It's just still something he's getting used to.

Love is something you've given to him so freely, something he's happy to return. But it scares him, sometimes. He worries that if he says it out loud too much, the universe will realize how great of a gift he's been given, and rip it away.

It might be irrational, but he holds the word love close to his heart anyway, unwilling to test fate anymore than he already does by putting on that red helmet.

He whispers it to you in the dead of night instead, says it with touch instead of sound, shows it with soft, shine of his eye. He squeezes your hand when you say it to him, does his best to make it clear he feels the same, even if he can't get the words out.

He'll get it eventually, figure out how to get it off his tongue. He has to.

Especially if he wants to show you the pretty little band of shining, precious metal he has tucked away in a velvet box.

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟔 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ “What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!” 

“Like what, Beomgyu?” 

The use of his name makes him waver, you hadn’t said it, not once since he returned. And you can tell the gesture only angers him further. — “Like the whole fucking world owes you an apology! You left, you left without a word and you..” He hesitates, swallowing thickly as he regains his composure. “You took my son away from me.”

pairings — idol!beomgyu x fem!reader warnings — secret baby trope, miscommunication, lots of angst, verbal fighting, reader and beomgyu both hurt each other, morally grey characters?, infidelity except I'm super vague about if he did it or not (he didn't), cameo txt, oc (teddy), consumption of alcohol, reader gets intoxicated, heavy on the inner monologue. smut tags, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, implied creampie but nothing is described, marking, nipple stimulation, lots and lots of kissing and making out, emotional sex sorta? + confessions during the sex.

WC ➤ 19k

#serene adds ✎.. hi. aurora ah thank you for being so patient with me I know this has taken QUITE some time but I'm grateful for you sticking around nonetheless :3 — like I've stated, this isn't a trope I've ever written for, and I might've gotten certain aspects wrong, I'm only human, anyway heh enjoy :3

this is sort of (not very) proofread, but I am not responsible for any spelling mistakes and or grammatical errors, take that with my lawyer in court and not me. merry christmas

PROLOGUE WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW (FRIDAY) !

The bright light tickles your eyes, causing a subtle burn to settle across them. But you don’t turn your phone off, even though you probably should. In fact, you should’ve been asleep hours ago, it was late now. — For some reason you can’t let go of the small device in your hand, even as you feel sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body. Instead you fight to stay awake. Forcing yourself to read the words written across the screen over and over until you knew them by heart. Your gaze returns to the headline: 

“TOMORROW X TOGETHER, TOUR SETLIST” 

Some song names are familiar, others aren’t. You tried to keep up with their newest albums, tried to learn the lyrics of their latest songs. But it was nearly impossible. For your stomach still turned whenever you heard his voice. It was so easily recognizable amongst the rest, and you curse him for having the voice of an angel. Part of you wants to listen to him forever, another part of you thinks you might go insane if you do. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen, and you’re presented with pictures, pictures of them. They’re all older now, as are you. They look…mature? Like they’d grown into their features properly. Even him. He looked far from the man you’d fallen in love with back then, and perhaps he wasn’t, not anymore. — Your heart contracts at the sight of his boyish grin, it takes you right back. But it’s not enough to make you regret your decision. 

“Mommy!” 

Blinking away the tears that somehow had managed to accumulate in your eyes, you turn toward the door. The old wood is slightly ajar, and a small figure lingers by the threshold. Your hurt is immediately washed away, and you smile. “Yes, sweetheart?” — The shadow moves forward, and soon it creeps into the light casted by your phone. “Mommy, I had a nightmare..” He hiccups, tiny hands clutching the worn out shark plushie. 

“Oh Teddy”, you sigh, flicking on the bedside lamp as you push yourself into a sitting position, discarding your phone on the bed. “Was it about the shadow monster again?” You wonder as you scoop your son into your arms. He nods as he clings to you, drawing in a small sniffle as you carry him back to his room. “I-It keeps coming back!” He wails as tears stream down his round face. 

You frown, gently rocking back and forth as you glance around his room, eyes landing on the night light he always used, a blue mushroom. “How so?” — Teddy emits another sob before wiping his wet cheeks. “B-Because the l-light keeps turning o-off!” He says as he points to the very much working lamp by his bed. You hum as you set him down on the mattress, pulling the blue covers over his shark-pajama covered body. 

“But this light is still turned on”, you counter as you turn to the blue mushroom lantern. Your son furiously shakes his head. “No! It wasn’t! And that’s why the shadow monster came!” His eyes darts across the small room, as if searching for the intruder. — Your hand on his cheek shifts his attention to you and you smile. “But you know what Teddy?” You ask to which your son quietly shakes his head. “You’ve got a shadow of your own”, you point to his shadow, portrayed on the wall and his eyes follow your movement. 

“See? Your shadow is always with you, and who’s better at fighting a shadow monster than another shadow?” — Teddy doesn’t look entirely convinced as he watches his shadow mimic him as he lifts an arm. “But what if it can’t?” He wonders with a squeaky voice, and as he turns to you with wide eyes and furrowed brows, your heart drops. He looked exactly like his dad. You know that it was far from his fault, but every time you looked at him, you thought of what you had lost, of what you had sacrificed. 

But just as your heart sinks, does it begin to beat again. Teddy looks at you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to tell him that everything is going to be alright. Because you’re his whole world. And he’s yours. — You don’t regret your decision, because Teddy is the best thing that ever happened to you. 

“Your shadow will never abandon you, and neither will I. The shadow monster won’t get you as long as we’re both here.” You lean in to press a kiss on his forehead and your son smiles. Then he turns back to his shadow on the wall, and when he waves, it waves back. — “Do you want me to get your lamp some new batteries, just in case?” you wonder and Teddy nods, “Yes please.” 

The small mushroom light had a surprisingly difficult hatch leading to its battery unit, and you struggled for a good five minutes with getting it open. And as you crouch by the side of his bed, your son continues to watch in amusement as his mom fights to get the new working batteries into his night light. — “Mommy”, he suddenly says, and you don’t look up as you answer with a soft hum. He’s quiet for a moment after that, and you think he might not have had anything to say in the first place. But then he speaks up, his voice is hushed, almost as if he was afraid of asking the question:

“Why don’t I have a daddy?” 

Your fingers slip against the hatch that suddenly pops open and you swallow. You knew that the question was bound to come sooner or later. You suppose you’d hoped for it not to be this soon. Many times you’d thought about how to bring the topic up. When he was ready, you’d told yourself.  But none of the scenarios fabricated in your mind had involved being confronted like this. 

“Well.. You see Teddy, all families are different..” You begin as you occupy yourself with shoving the new batteries into the lamp. Your son hums, his small fingers twiddling with his shark plushie. “I know!” He then exclaims and you turn to him with raised brows. Teddy smiles, exposing his uneven set of milk teeth as he does. “Ellie has two daddy’s!” He then continues, though his expression quickly morphs into a confused one, “so why does she have two but I have zero?” 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shuffle closer, leaning onto his bed as your hand reaches for his. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but your son beats you to it. “If…If I had a daddy, he could help you with those things.” Teddy points to the mushroom light you had struggled with for the past minutes and you feel a melancholic smile tug at the corners of your lips. Your mind recalls the many instances in which Beomgyu had tried to “mend” things around your apartment, undoubtedly failing each and every time. You knew that he would hardly be of any help. 

Still, you didn’t have the heart to tell your son that. So you nod, your hand around his giving a small squeeze. “You’re right, he would.” — Teddy grins, and despite the fact that he’s missing two of his front teeth, you’re still reminded of his father. “Your daddy would be able to scare the shadow monster away for good, I reckon”, you murmur as your hand brushes through his unkempt hair. 

Your son nods to himself, clutching his plushie tightly as he yawns. “Did he scare your shadow monster away too?” He suddenly asks, and you’re taken aback, blinking as your fingers still in his hair. Your shadow monster? You don’t even know if you’d ever had one. Maybe..? — “I suppose he did”, you finally say. 

Teddy’s silent after that, and you peer over at him to see if he’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t. Instead you find him quietly observing his shadow, blinking slowly as his body grows heavy. With a final yawn, he says: 

“Then I think he’d be a good daddy to me.” 

⸝⸝

“Beomgyu, I know what I saw.” 

The air of your small apartment is thick and heavy with dread. You swallow as you try to calm your trembling hands, clenching them into fists by your sides. — Your boyfriend, Beomgyu, runs a hand through his long hair, the blonde highlights falling everywhere as he shakes his head, undoubtedly frustrated. He hasn’t even taken off his jacket nor his shoes. You’d confronted him the second he stepped foot inside. 

He sighs, brows knitting together as his eyes meet yours. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about”, he argues to which you scoff. — “I know enough.” You fold your arms across your chest, throwing a pointed look toward the Tv. Beomgyu’s gaze follows yours and you catch the subtle twitch of his jaw as his attention falls on the picture of himself. 

His band had finally headlined, but not for the right reasons. You should’ve expected it. It was a given, wasn’t it? Dating someone famous like him, someone young and attractive. Of course there would be rumors. But they’re not about you and him. This girl… Hell you didn’t even know her. — But she must’ve been pretty enough for him to fuck. 

“It’s a rumor babe!” Beomgyu exclaims as he takes a step in your direction, but you stop him. Hands raised high above your head, you shout for him to stay back. “It’s not though.” — Your voice trembles as you inhale. Your boyfriend regards you with an expression best described as perplexed, his jaw, previously tense, now slacked as he tries to make sense of your words. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so cold, so distant, but it did. And you can practically see his resolve crumbling as he shakes his head. “I mean…” You slowly begin, choking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. “The late nights, the non-returned calls, all my ignored texts…Don’t you think I get it?” Wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, you sniffle. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he bites the inside of his cheek. His silence was loud and clear. You wanted to cry. — The first time your call went to his voicemail you brushed it off, but when he didn’t call you back that night, or the one after that, you’d grown worried. You called around for him, meeting nothing but dead-ends as none of his friends could advocate for his whereabouts. You texted him, again and again. He didn’t even read them. 

Then he would turn up on your doorstep, at the most ungodly hour, begging for your forgiveness, promising to do better. You thought he might’ve been going through a rough time, so you let him inside. You let him inside your heart. You comforted him when he cried and you told him that things were going to be alright, that things were going to change. But they never did. And he never treated you better. 

When you called Taehyun to ask if he was at practice, like he said he would be, only to be perceived as an idiot when Taehyun told you that he never showed up. It was then you knew that something was really wrong. A part of you thinks you’ve known for a while. Another part thinks you were too scared to bring it up, too scared to let him go. That part of you fought for his innocence for as long as it could. 

But then he makes the headlines, and it’s not with you, but another woman. It confirmed what you had dreaded for so long. And if you didn’t act now, you were scared that you might never do. 

“Do you honestly believe this shit?” He suddenly says as he throws an aggravated hand toward the Tv. Did you believe it? No, you couldn’t say that you did. Beomgyu was many things, a cheater wasn't one of them. Still, the way he acted, so nonchalantly trying to brush even a problem like this under the rug… It told you everything you needed to know about what kind of a person he was. 

So you can only stare back at him, your eyes now empty as you slowly nod. “What else do you want me to believe?” You say, and your voice sounds monotone, almost robotic. — Beomgyu huffs as he shakes his head, his hand dragging across the side of his face as his narrowed gaze seizes you. “Well I don’t know, maybe me? Your fucking boyfriend?” 

“Then give me one good reason.” You say, suddenly sounding irritated again. “Give me one reason to trust that you weren't out screwing someone else while I waited for you like an idiot.” — You give him about ten seconds to defend himself, watching as he scrambles for words. But when he doesn’t speak, you grow even more agitated. “See, you can't!” 

“I had something important to do, okay?” He almost cuts you off and your brows furrow at the unreliable excuse. — “Something important? Like what? What could be more important than me? Than us?” You practically spit the question out, expecting at least a half-assed answer, but you’re met with none. 

Oh. 

Oh wow. 

Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, his eyes drifting to the floor and you feel your heart sink to the same level. A bitter feeling blooms in your chest and your throat suddenly feels dry. You realize then that there was nothing else to say. This was it. Five months of your life completely wasted on someone who couldn’t give less of a fuck about you or your feelings. 

“Out.” 

The single word slices through the tense air and Beomgyu’s head snaps up as his eyes widen. “What?” He breathes but you only shake your head. “I want you out, now.” — He tries to object, but you won’t hear him out, you’d already made that mistake one too many times. Instead you have him leave, slamming the door behind him as he goes. 

Your apartment becomes eerily silent after that, and so did the rest of your life. 

You didn’t linger. That would be painful. Instead you packed whatever you thought was worth bringing along before you returned to the only place you could think of. Home. Shielded from the rest of the world, in a small village by the seaside, a place where only one knew you. 

Your grandmother provided the love you had so desperately been craving for the past months of your life. She allowed you to settle into her home for a while. And for the first time in what felt like forever, things finally started to look up. — Only for them to come crashing down again as the heavy realization that you were not alone dawned upon you. 

⸝⸝

“Mommy! Mommy! Look! Sharks!” Teddy exclaims as he rushes toward the arts section, eyes glued on the shark stickers before him. He’s so eager that he almost trips over his own feet before making it to his desired destination. — With a subtle roll of your eyes, you give in. “Fine, put them in the cart”, you sigh. Though nothing beats seeing your son’s face light up into a wide grin as he scurries over with his finds. 

You don’t regret Teddy. 

Not in the slightest. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Even if it meant giving up a lot of your life in order to make room for him in it. You were young, dumb and naive. And had it not been for your grandmother, you don’t know how you would’ve made it. — You owed her big time. 

Still, you found that you enjoyed a quiet life. There was something special about raising Teddy in the very same environment you’d grown up in. From walks on the beach, collecting seashells and building sand castles.. To harvesting fresh strawberries in your grandmother’s garden during summer. Or the small marketplace in the center of town, bustling with life year around. — A quiet life. Far away from your past, hidden from its watchful and judging eyes. 

Except today, your past seemed to have found you. 

You’re almost done for the day, the ingredient list, clutched in your hand, had been nearly ticked off. But as you turn down toward the breakfast section, you’re met with what could’ve possibly been one of the most cruel pranks the world could pull. 

An icy feeling washes over your body, the wheels of your cart coming to a squeaking stop in the middle of the aisle. Your eyes glue to the figure not even 10ft from you, immediately recognizing his sharp features. Dark and perfectly styled hair and a variety of jewelry dangling from his ears.  He has yet to notice you, seemingly occupied with scanning the shelves before him. — Teddy stops too, his attention turning to the colorful packages of cereal on his left. You’re far too shocked to notice him scurrying to grab a box. And only when the high pitch of his voice breaks the thick silence do you jolt to life. 

“Look! It’s the ones with sharks on!” He exclaims, practically shoving the cereal packaging against you as he flaunts the two sharks on the cover. Your heart drops as your son’s voice manages to attract not only your attention, but his as well. — You can practically feel the surprise radiate off of him as he turns to you, and then your name slips from his lips, and you know he knows. 

You try to smile, forcing yourself to push down the dreadful feeling rising in your chest as he approaches. “Oh my god, Yeonjun?” Your words come out a short, breathless laugh and Yeonjun returns it with a small chuckle. “In the flesh”, he grins, hands now stuffed into his pockets as he studies you for a moment. “Shit, how long has it been?” He muses, a small frown etching its way to his face. 

“Five years”, you reply, almost too quickly, you hope he doesn't pick up on it. But Yeonjun merely nods, muttering a quiet “Jesus, you’re right”, under his breath. You glance around, praying that he was alone, it seemed like he was. — It was impossible to know how many details Beomgyu had given them, what he’d told them, how he’d made them perceive you. But as your eyes meet his, you find no resentment in his gaze. Yeonjun looks happy to see you. 

“You’ve been here all along?” He asks, sounding almost astonished. You nod, “My grandma owns a small house not far from here, I thought it’d be nice to stay somewhere close by.” Yeonjun hums in agreement, his lips parting, as if to say something, but he falls silent as his attention drifts to Teddy, clutching onto your leg as he demands attention. You catch the subtle raise of his brows as his gaze flickers between Teddy and you. 

Dumbfounded, you clear your throat, “O-Oh, right. This is Teddy”, you say as you hoist the five year old into your arms, huffing at how heavy he’d gotten. Teddy studies Yeonjun’s perplexed expression, a grin on his tiny face as his small hands clutch at your shirt. “Shit, you’ve got a kid?” He finally exhales. You bite the inside of your check, nodding as you motion for your son to say hi. “Come on Teddy, why don’t you say hi to Yeonjun?” 

The young boy extends his hand and Yeonjun takes it, “Nice to meet you, Teddy”, he says, the surprise slowly wearing off as he blinks a couple of times. Teddy giggles at the grown-up aspect of shaking someone's hand, and Yeonjun has to fight for your son to release his grip on him. — “Why don’t you go pick out a snack?” You tell him as you set him down once more, eager to rid yourself of him for a few minutes to talk to Yeonjun in private. 

Teddy wasn’t very hard to convince and as soon as his sneakers hit the ground he was off, darting down the aisle without as much as a care in the world. “Don’t eat it before we pay!” You call out after him, not receiving a reply. — The silence that settles over you after that is beyond stale, and you find yourself avoiding Yeonjun’s gaze as best as you could. 

“So..” He begins, the frown on his face still prominent. “I’m guessing you’ve found someone. els…” — “Oh god no!” You interrupt him before he can finish, the defensive edge to your voice palpable as you shake your head. “I um, I’m raising him alone..” You quickly add, trying to brush over who the father in question actually was. 

“Oh.” 

The conflicted expression on Yeonjun’s face seems to immediately ease up at your response. Weird. Why did he care? Has someone told him to care? Did he still care? — Now visibly relaxed, he lets his hands return to his pockets, the same careless grin on his face once more. “How old is he anyway?” 

“Four”, you say, though quickly adding, “he’s turning five in a couple of months but likes to say that he is already.” — Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head like he’s experienced the exact same events himself. “Growing up takes a great deal of time”, he muses, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward Teddy who was rummaging through the shelves by the far end of the aisle, flimsy hands grabbing at whatever he could find as he left chaos in his wake. 

“The others would love to see you”, he then says,  “We’re in town for two weeks, a small vacation between schedules.”  The statement makes your heart skip over a beat. They want to see you? They weren’t mad at you? They didn’t hate you for walking out on their friend? — Your jaw was likely scraping the floor by that point because Yeonjun cleared his throat awkwardly as he hastily continued. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I totally get if you’re busy.” He scratches the back of his head, a nervous habit of his, “We’re going out for dinner and drinks tonight, you’re free to join us whenever, we would all appreciate your company.” 

You swallow, processing the weight of his words. You hadn’t seen them, any of them, for five whole years. Would it be weird to just show up like that? And would he… “Will he be there?” The question slips out before you can stop it. But judging by the apologetic look on Yeonjun’s face, you’d guess you were correct. “He is part of the group”, he murmurs, slightly sheepish as he fiddles with the silver hoop in his ear. 

“It’s fine”, you shake your head, “it was a long time ago.” Yeonjun nods, his expression unreadable as he takes a small breath. “Does he… Does he know? He didn’t tell me about.. Well you know..” — You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip as you push your hair back. “He doesn’t know, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t either, at least not for now”, you practically plead, sending him a hopeful look. 

He blinks but then slowly nods, uttering a quiet, “Yeah, no of course. It’d just be weird right?” You quickly nod, “Right. It would.” There’s an awkward and anticlimactic silence that follows, the two of you glancing around, not knowing where to avert your gaze. Your mind scrambles for something to help fill the agonizing gap of your conversation. But Yeonjun manages to beat you to it. 

“He’s changed, you know. He’s not the same guy he was five years ago.” You glance up at him, meeting his hopeful eyes as Yeonjun tries to salvage the ruins of the relationship you and his friend once had. “I don’t know what happened between you two, Beomgyu refuses to tell me anything but I.. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” 

You can’t help but feel bad, feel bad for Yeonjun, and for the others, left confused as you took off all those years ago. Perhaps it was guilt that steered your decision. — Dinner and drinks, it couldn’t be all bad? It was harmless, and you did miss the others. So you nod, “I’d love to join you.” 

⸝⸝

“Couple of drinks? With him?” 

The air inside the small kitchen suddenly felt thick, the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies no longer lingered and the once familiar light pink walls were slowly closing in on you. With a heavy sigh you bring the porcelain cup to your lips, sipping on the warm home-brewed tea. Your grandma sits in front of you, the rounded table you’d had so many dinners by, now felt miles long, putting you and her on different sides of the world as she glares you down. 

Despite the wrinkles lining her face, and the way her eyes had slowly sunken, her keen gaze was as sharp as ever. You felt yourself go rigid under it. “Well”, you set your cup down, “He was right in front of me, it wasn’t like I could just say no.” The meek excuse does little to ease the older lady’s already fragile nerves and your grandma shakes her head, her lips drawn into a thin line. 

Hopelessly, you sigh. “Nana, it’s been five years. And besides, I’m going to see all of them, not just him.” 

Call her sidekick, but your grandma had always had a thing for trusting her gut. Whether it had been blatantly ignoring medical advice given to her by doctors, insisting on drinking her own concoction of chamomile and honey. Or leaving the house without an umbrella even when the forecast promised rain, just because she “felt” that it was bound to be a sunny day. — So to change her mind on a matter like this, would be damn near impossible. 

“You’re going to end up right back where you started”, she mutters, her old and wrinkly fingers gripping the edges of her own cup. “Oh come on nana, you don’t know that..” — “I do!” She insists, her voice rising three octaves as she slams the teacup down onto the wooden table. Holding your tongue, you glance toward the window, shielded by the checkered curtains as they flutter in the wind, you could make out the glimpse of your son as he played out in the garden. 

Teddy had always made do with just himself, the absence of both a father and siblings had never seemed to bother him. Yet you couldn’t help but wish for something more for him. Something that you were unable to give. The feeling ate away at your heart, slowly but surely. — “Think you can have him, just for tonight? I’ll come pick him up in the morning”, you say, nail scraping against the handpainted flowers of your cup. 

Your grandma sighs, the realization that you were about to go against her wishes dawning upon her. “I remember how you looked, that night you showed up on my doorsteps five years ago.” She begins, her voice a low drawl and you can already tell where this is going. “Nana…” But she only hushes you, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. “You were heartbroken, dear.” The statement hits you like a sharp slap in the face, leaving you speechless as you watch your grandmother fiddle with her nearly full teacup. 

“I do not want you to make the same mistake again”, she sighs, and she doesn’t sound angry anymore, only sad, as if the news of your death had already been delivered. You reach out, hand grasping hers, she felt fragile in your palm, and you’re overcome with an intense need to reassure her. 

“Then it’s my mistake to make.” 

⸝⸝

The clacking of heels hitting the cold pavement fills the night air and you bring your arms around yourself, shivering in the cool breeze. Despite it being mid August, the biting cold seemed to know no bounds. With your heart hammering in your chest, you near the small bar, chatter echoing out onto the cobbled road. 

You hadn’t known what to wear, and it wasn’t like you had anyone to ask. Your social life had severely decreased after moving out here and having Teddy. But you think the crimson dress was sophisticated enough, its simplicity toning the deep color down a tad. A coat, you should’ve brought a coat. Spoiled rotten by the warmth of July, the thought of bringing anything besides what you already wore. 

It doesn’t matter now, you thought. Heaving a small sigh, you climb the three steps leading to the crowded pub. It’s warm here, thank god. Your eyes scan the rounded tables, all occupied by larger parties. Their conversations flow past you, buzzing in your ears, it’s loud, yet you can’t seem to make out a single word they’re saying. 

It’s not until Yeonjun’s voice pierces through the air as he calls for you, that your searching gaze finally lands on a pair of familiar faces. Seated by one of the large windows, they all turn to you as you approach, all but one. — Kai is the first to get up, enveloping you in a tight hug before you even get a word out. You’re taken aback by the muscular feel of his arms, the tight grip he had on you represented little of the young boy you’d once known. But when he pulls back, the same boyish grin cracks across his lips. 

“I’ve missed you!” He pouts, going in for yet another hug, this one just as tight as the first. You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering in a strange manner at the fact that your absence had actually meant something to them. “I’ve missed you too, Kai.” 

From there, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor fills the bar as they all get up to take turns hugging you. Taehyun had also grown quite a lot since you’d last seen him, and Soobin wore glasses now. Yeonjun settled for a handshake as the two of you had met previously that day, thanking you once more for coming. — But when he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the man you’d been dreading to see. 

Beomgyu sits on Yeonjun’s right, his gaze intently fixated on the beer in his hand, watching as the yellow liquid swirls in the glass. The blond hair on his head immediately caught your attention as it fell evenly in front of his eyes. He doesn’t make a move to stand up, or as much as acknowledge you, and an awkward and anticipating silence falls over your small group. 

Taehyun is the first to act as he grabs a chair from a nearby table, making room for you between Yeonjun and himself. You thank him, taking a seat as you busy yourself with straightening out your dress. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yeonjun’s knee nudging against Beomgyu’s as the older signals for his bandmate to say hi. Only then does he look up. — You don’t have time to avert your gaze, and your eyes lock with his. 

The once warm brown now looked stale, cold and distant. He looks a lot paler than last you’d seen him, though that was five years ago. Beomgyu gives you a small, almost unnoticeable nod, you do the same before quickly diverting your attention elsewhere. 

It doesn’t take long for the others to warm up, your conversations ranging from light-hearted small talk to deep and almost philosophical questions. “Have you been here all along?” Kai wonders as he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. You nod, explaining how your grandma lived close by, mentioning the beautiful scenery and the market downtown. You avoided the topic of Teddy, though you would send Yeonjun a small glance every now and again, thankful that he didn’t bring it up either. 

You can’t remember how many drinks you’d had, perhaps a few too many. But you were willing to do anything to ease the tension Beomgyu’s mere presence caused. He didn’t say much, in fact you think he might’ve not said anything at all. The others tried their best to engage him in whatever topic was being discussed, but he never gave more than a short sentence for answer. 

Part of you feels guilty. Should you not have come? Were you making things awkward? But Taehyun’s reassuring hand on top of yours immediately washes any worries away as he sends you a warm smile. “Let’s order another round!” He says, immediately calling the waiter over. — Though he’s barely managed to lift a finger when Beomgyu’s hand suddenly clasps around his wrists. “I think we’ve had enough”, he says, breaking his nearly eternal silence. 

Taehyun looks surprised as he shrugs his friend’s hand off, watching as Beomgyu settles back into his seat, an indifferent expression on his face. “Come on now, don’t be such a buzzkill”, Kai argues as he, too, makes a move to call the waiter over. — “Do you want to get her drunk?” Beomgyu suddenly snaps, his once distant gaze becoming sharp. It was the first time he’d as much as addressed your presence that night, apart from your brief greeting. 

With a perplexed expression you turn to him, only to find him already watching you. “What are you on about-” Soobin begins but is quickly cut short by his friend. “You’re a lightweight”, he comments, stating it as if it were written on your forehead. Part of you had forgotten just how much he knew about you, how much he still seemed to know about you. It made your chest twist uncomfortably as your face morphed into a frown. 

“I think I’ll be fine”, you huff, ignoring the question glances you received from the others. Without waiting for him to object, you call the waiter over yourself, ordering all of you another round of shots. — Beomgyu’s heavy gaze remained on you the whole night after that, all of him radiating with a feeling you couldn’t quite place. 

You would rather die than admit that he was right. But after your fifth shot, the room started moving. With great effort, you grip the edge of the table, leaning forward as you let your eyes fall shut. “Hey, are you okay?” Taehyun’s voice carries a resemblance of worry as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. Slowly nodding, you mutter out a quiet, “Yeah.. Just need some air.” — “I’ll help you out”, Yeonjun offers, but you politely decline him. 

“It’s fine, stay, I’ll only be five minutes.” With the help of Taehyun you manage to stand up on wobbly knees. Yeonjun looks more than concerned as he reaches out for you. “Are you sure?” He asks, brows knitting together as he watches you. “Yes, thank you”, you huff, maneuvering past the crowded tables as you head for the door, eager to get away from their prying eyes. 

The cool night air is comforting as it washes over your scorching hot body. Your disoriented eyes search for a place to slump down, eventually settling on the side of the pavement. The cobbled stone is ice cold against your bare legs, a stark contrast to the alcohol simmering beneath the surface of your skin. Inhaling, you tilt your head back, letting your eyes close as you drink in the fresh oxygen. 

It takes you about a minute to realize that you’d forgotten your bag, containing your phone. There was no way for you to keep track of time now, much less contact anyone. But you can’t find it in you to care, the buzz of liquor far too strong for you to focus on much else. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when the sounds of approaching footsteps intrude on your silence. Not bothering to acknowledge who it might be, you stay where you are, leaning back on your hands as you let the cool breeze caress your face. — Not until the stranger takes a seat next to you, does your brain register that something might be up. 

Cracking an eye open, you nearly lose your balance as you’re met with Beomgyu’s indifferent expression. He’s clutching your bag in his hands, slowly reaching out as he hands it to you. “You forgot this”, he mutters, the words barely audible. — Embarrassed you thank him, trying your hardest to ignore the way your fingers brush against one another as you take it from him. 

You busy yourself with checking its contents, trying your hardest not to think about the person sitting next to you. Beomgyu on the other hand, remains quiet as he gazes ahead, his arms resting atop his knees as he bites the inside of his cheek. You come to realize that this is the first time you’d actually gotten a proper look at him all night. And you take this moment to study the contour of his face, the sharp bridge of his nose, his high cheekbones, his jaw, much more defined now than it was five years ago.

Beomgyu looked different. He looked like a man. 

He wasn’t the only one who’d changed of course. You had too, in more ways than you’d ever thought possible. So perhaps, just maybe, this wasn’t the Beomgyu you’d known back then. Would you ever get an answer to that question? It was hard to tell. — But even with light and blond hair, Beomgyu looked exactly like his son. They were too similar, almost a replica of one another. And the sight before you, made your chest churn. 

“I should… Probably go home”, your words come out slightly slurred, your speech becoming lazy and slow. But all you could think about was him. Beomgyu hums, rolling his thumbs over one another as he keeps his eyes ahead. “You’re drunk”, he states and you almost want to scoff at the obvious remark. — “So are you”, you retort, not oblivious to the three beers he’d chugged as he avoided conversation. 

He shakes his head, “I’m not.” — “Not nearly enough at least”, he then sighs. You wonder what he meant by that, but you never get the chance to ask. “I’ll get you a cab”, he mutters, already rising to his feet. 

It happens before you can even register it, the way your hand reaches out. 

And when your fingers wrap around his wrist, he freezes, his jaw clenching as he turns to look at you for what would’ve been the third time that evening. You don’t know why you stopped him, why you felt the need to prolong the already awkward moment between the two of you. But you couldn’t let him go, not yet, not when you’d just found him after five whole years. Because a small part of you, a part of you that held no resentment for him, a part of you that you kept hidden, a part of you that had missed him. It made you cling to him, as pathetic as it may look. 

“Wait”, your short breath makes him tense even further, his brows pulling together as he slumps back against the pavement. “I…” You trail off, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to navigate your foggy mind. There was nothing you could say to make things better, nothing you could say to change the past. — But Beomgyu wasn’t mad at you, right? He wouldn’t have come out here if he was. 

Your eyes flicker over to meet his, the same dark and alluring ones that had drawn you in all those years ago. Maybe, a small part of him had missed you too. — His gaze drops to your lips first, the way it had so many times before, tongue darting out to subconsciously wet his own. 

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”  

Your quiet whisper seems to echo down the empty street and you swallow. But the statement isn’t a lie. More than anything you craved the warmth of another body against your own, you’d craved it for five years. 

Beomgyu expression morphs into one you couldn’t quite place, one you didn’t know how to read. His jaw relaxes, eyebrows returning to their normal position as he emits a soft sigh, his warm breath fanning across your already hot face. “You’re drunk”, he says, but he’s already got an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The nostalgic scent of his cologne fills your senses, easily overpowering the buzz of the alcohol. 

“So are you”, you mumble, the palm of your hand caressing his cheek. Beomgyu lets his eyes flutter closed, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his. And when he opens them again, they immediately find yours. — “Yeah”, he exhales, “I am.” 

Five years you had gone without kissing him. But as he pressed his lips against yours, time seemed to cease. His arm around your body keeps you close, the other one finding its way to the back of your hair. You cradle his face between your hands, scared to let him go even when it gets hard to breathe. — Tasting the alcohol on his tongue as he slips it inside your mouth. It’s a bitter taste, reminding you of anger you’d wasted on him. The useless pain and the useless suffering. 

“We shouldn’t do this”, Beomgyu exhales, separating only an inch from you as he rests his forehead against yours. You shake your head, ignoring the way your chest contracted at the simple statement. Instead you force your lips back on his, fingers twisting in his hair as you bring him impossibly close. 

His hands slide down your body, tracing your figure with a sense of recognition, like he’d just stumbled across something he thought he’d forgotten. He settles on your hips, gently pushing you back as he breaks the longing kiss. — “You should go home..” He murmurs, his sharp nose sliding along the side of your neck as he trails kisses over your warm skin. Beomgyu’s words often contradicted his actions. You knew that. But it didn’t help your situation in the slightest. 

“Come with me.” 

It’s not a request but a demand, desperate as you cling to him, your eyes pleading with his. Pulling away from your neck, he bites the inside of his cheek. “I can’t”, he says, and the words hurt more than they should. You had expected him to deny you, why wouldn’t he? Five years without as much as a message. Five years of not knowing where you were, if you were okay. Five years of living in the dark. 

Perhaps you deserved it. 

But you weren’t the only one in the wrong. He hurt you. He hurt you so bad that you saw no other option than to run. Run as far as you could possibly get. Until your legs trembled and ached, until the pain in your body overpowered the pain in your heart. — You shouldn’t crave his presence, you don’t know why you did. But if you left him now, you knew that you would never be okay again. 

Tears coat your lashes, threatening to spill at any moment. You can see the guilt in his eyes as you glance up. Silently you plead, drawing in a shaky breath only for it to come back out as a small sigh. — “Can you please just take me home then?” 

⸝⸝

Beomgyu holds your hand during the whole cab ride home. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. It’s a heavy silence. You steal a few glances his way, the vehicle is dark but under the light of the bright moon, you can make out the details of his face. He looks lost in thought, weighed down by the reality of your situation. His thumb strokes the top of your hand absentmindedly. You stay perfectly still, not wanting him to stop. 

But as the car pulls into the small and narrow street, and your quaint house comes into vision, your stomach drops. You don’t want the night to end. Not like this. Would he even want to see you again? Did you take it too far when you kissed? Was he upset? — The screeching sound of tires against concrete has you emitting a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

You glance over at Beomgyu, he’s watching you with an almost melancholy expression and you have to remind yourself why you walked out on him all those years ago. It was better this way, wasn’t it? — Your hand turns cold as soon as you let go of his. “Thank you for tonight”, it’s polite, too polite, too formal. But you say it nonetheless. He nods, his eyes never leaving you as you climb out of the car. 

Only when the door slams shut do you feel a sense of relief. You don’t wait for it to drive off, that would just hurt even more. Instead you turn on your heel, walking up the scattered stone path that leads to your door. Your hand digs through your small bag in search of your keys. The metal glints under the moonlight, and the jiggling noise fills the quiet night air. 

You’re glad Teddy was at your grandma’s, you don’t think you could bear facing him in this state, nor in the morning for that matter. It wasn’t his fault that he looked like him. Your son had done nothing to warrant this life. So why did it hurt so much to look at him? — Those thoughts… Sometimes it made you question if you really were a good mother. Because what kind of mother was unable to look her own child in the eyes, just because they represented something she’d lost. 

Teddy was your whole world now. So why can’t you forget him? 

You’re lost in a storm of self-pitying thoughts, fumbling with the charms on the keychain as you curse yourself for drinking so much. — Too caught up in unlocking your front door, you miss the rushed sets of footsteps behind you. Not until a familiar hand wraps around your wrist. His familiar cologne invades your already drunk senses, and you barely have time to turn around before Beomgyu’s lips crash against yours. 

This time he kisses you without hesitating, like he knows the road ahead, and like he’s not afraid of it. You let him, because you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to deny him. And you don’t want to. 

He blindly reaches for the keys, twisting the lock before pushing your door open. You stumble inside your dark hallway, shoes flying everywhere as you kick them off. The framed drawings, made by no less than your son, rattle against the walls when Beomgyu pushes you up against it. His hands waste no time roaming your body, now without stopping as they reach the hem of your crimson dress. He slides the material up your thighs, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as you pull him close. 

Your soft moan echoes down the hall as he bites down on your bottom lip, his fingers digging into the skin over your hips as he presses you so far against the wall that you think you might make a dent in it. — It’s as if he's trying to communicate a thousand words with one single kiss. The sentences come out incoherent and messy, in no particular order and without making any sense. Still, you kiss him like it was your last. For all you know it might be. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” He groans into your mouth. Your mind goes blank at the question, and you blink before quickly pointing down the dark hallway. “Last door on the right”, you say and Beomgyu doesn't need to hear anything else as he hoists you into his arms, moving through the quiet house with impatient steps. — When passing Teddy’s room you make sure to pull him in for yet another kiss, diverting his attention from anything that might get his mind elsewhere, places you didn’t need nor want it to be. 

Your bedroom is sparsely decorated, all your efforts spent on making sure your son had everything he needed. But Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care in the slightest as he settles you against the mattress, quickly climbing on top of you. Your legs tangle in a mess of limbs as he places open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, moving down your neck and collarbone. His teeth nipping at your sensitive skin makes you forget about the seriousness of your situation, about the consequences and the day that would follow. 

His hands yank at your dress, “Get this off”, he grunts, frustrated when it won’t budge. Your back arches off the bed, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss along his jawline. “There’s a zipper on the back”, you murmur and Beomgyu’s fingers immediately slither behind your waist, reaching up only to tug the zip down. — It takes him about five seconds to pull your dress along your body, leaving you in the black lace set you’d picked out for the occasion. Back then, all those years ago, he would’ve made a sly comment about the suggestive underwear, but not now, not today. 

Today he can only stare, in awe of the woman before him. His silence makes you squirm, even more so when he leans down to press a kiss to your still clothed nipple. “You’ve always been so gorgeous”, he murmurs, fingers sliding between your thighs as he pushes both middle and ring finger against your cunt, rubbing you through the dark lace. You whine, nails digging into his shoulders as you wordlessly beg for more. 

Beomgyu groans against your chest when he feels your knee slide between his legs, your fingers fiddling with the buckle of his belt. “We shouldn’t”, he sighs, repeating the words as if they were a prayer. “You’re drunk and..” He kisses between your breasts, one of his hands reaching for the clasp behind your back. “And I’m…Fuck.” Beomgyu leans back as he rips your bra from your body, immediately caressing your perfect tits with his hand, leaning down to wrap his mouth around one of your hardened nipples. 

“I don’t care”, you nearly sob, undoing his belt before pulling it through the loops and discarding it on the floor. “You should.” Beomgyu whispers against your flaming hot skin, the hand between your legs pushing your damp panties aside as he slides two fingers between your folds, letting your arousal pool onto his hand. 

Your moans bounce off the bedroom walls, repeating themselves like a broken record when Beomgyu slides a finger inside your pleading cunt, his thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. — “Tell me to stop”, he says, and it sounds almost like he’s begging. You shake your head, jaw slacking as your thighs quiver, hips threatening to buck up against the heel of his hand. 

His kisses travel from your abused tits and up your neck once more. He’s so close that you feel every short exhale against the shell of your ear. Every small hitch of his breath and every groan he tries to conceal. You feel everything. The vibrations of his voice when he says: “Tell me to stop. I can’t stop unless you tell me to.” 

With your hands either side of his face, you bring his lips to yours. His dark eyes are wide and filled to the brim with emotion, emotions so strong that no words could ever come close to describing them. “I don’t want you to stop.” You couldn’t bear it if he did, you would never forgive yourself if you let this moment slip between your fingers. 

Beomgyu swallows, and your gaze follows the bob of his adams apple, trailing down his chest, landing on the shirt he wore, halfway unbuttoned. “Never stop”, you say, reaching for the buttons as you pop them open one by one. He lets you, watching with half lidded as you push the shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands wander across his naked skin. Beomgyu shudders, the fingers against your cunt completely losing sense of direction as he inhales sharply. 

He sighs against your lips when you pull him down for another kiss, letting you slip your tongue inside his mouth without protest. “S’a bad idea”, he murmurs, his speech slurred. You ignore his half-assed warnings, pulling his zipper open as you push his jeans down. — “You’re not thinking straight and- fuck.” His sentence is cut short when your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, thumb pressing against his flushed tip with urgency. 

It’s like a switch is flipped within him, his body jolting to life as he kisses you back with a need that is near overwhelming. You whimper when he adds a second finger inside your fluttering cunt, spreading your thighs as far as he can, his eyes steadily focused on the way your body so willingly accepted him in. 

“Please”, your request slices through the hot air, “I can’t wait any longer.” 

You really couldn’t. Five years you had waited for him. Five years your body had longed for his touch. Even five minutes could feel like an eternity when your future was uncertain. But this, this you were certain of. — And you’d be damned if you didn’t get your way. 

Beomgyu quickly obliges, his fingers withdrawing from your core, though quickly replaced by the head of his cock as he pushes past your puffy folds. You whine as he jerks against your aching clit, thighs twitching in pleasure. You reach down between your bodies, firmly pressed together, trembling fingers wrapping around his thick shaft as you guide him inside of you. 

The groan he lets out easily drowns out your whimper as his forehead comes to rest atop your own. You help him slide in slowly, making sure to memorize the way he stretched your pulsating cunt out, your clit nearly spasming when his thumb swipes across it. Once fully sheathed inside of you, Beomgyu sighs. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” 

His eyes linger on yours, and though you’d had sex with him more than once, this time somehow felt more intimate. Because this time it wasn’t just sex. It was an escape, an escape from the reality that awaited outside your bedroom walls, the reality that would rise just as the sun would the next morning. This short moment was all you had. You both knew that. The knowing somehow made it even more special. It connected you. 

Quickly trying to shake the uncomfortable thoughts away, your hands reach for his hair, fingers tangling in the blonde mess of locks as you urged him to move, to do something, anything. — The bed squeaks as Beomgyu snaps his hips against yours, thick cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt, your bodies joined together in one, for the first time in five years. 

And perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps you’d wake up filled with dread and regret. Perhaps you’d wake up to find him gone, vanished from your life, just like you had vanished from his. And perhaps this was a cruel thing to do, not only to him but to yourself. — Letting your desires win as you give in to the greed of longing, of wanting, wanting something you already know you won’t like in the end. But right now, this is everything you need. And for the first time in five years, you put yourself first. 

Beomgyu was usually one to talk when you were intimate, whether it was insults or praise, he would always be sure to talk you through it. But not tonight. Tonight his mind is occupied with everything that is you. Far too busy with tracing your every curve, kissing as much of you as he could, lips moving down your chest, across your collarbone, over your arms. Almost like he’s scared to blink and find you gone. He needs to remember you exactly as you are. Because if anything you need to live on, at least in his mind. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you, pulling a strained groan from him as he shudders. His kisses are centered to your neck now, and he murmurs something incoherent against your skin. You want to ask him what he said, but you don’t have to, for he repeats himself, this time louder. — “I haven’t…” His lips slide down your neck, teeth scraping across its juncture and you squirm. 

“Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.” 

His confession makes your breath hitch, your fingers in his hair going lax as you peer down at him. What did he mean by that? — Seemingly reading your thoughts, Beomgyu’s pace slows down, if just barely, his head lifting from your neck as his eyes lock onto yours. “I’ve tried”, he mumbles, hands trailing along your chest, stopping by your waist. “I can’t”, he inhales, “I only see you.” 

Your lips part, at loss for words. Only you? Had he tried to move on but…failed? Your brows pull together, a perplexed frown. “For…For how long?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. — “Five years.” He says, holding your gaze as he lets out the breath he’d been holding. Five years. You’d expected him to have forgotten about you, to have written you off as a bad experience and moved on with his life. But he…couldn’t? 

“Do you get it now?” He murmurs, lips hovering above your own. “Do you understand why we shouldn’t be doing this?” He sounds near desperate, yet his hips continue to rock against yours, his finger circling your throbbing clit as he elicits a soft moan from you. — You don’t reply, you wouldn’t even know what to say. Overcome by the desire of having him as close as possible, in every single way you could think of. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. He lets his eyes flutter closed, his long and soft lashes caressing your cheeks as your noses press together. Every slow and deliberate thrust of his makes you writhe in pleasure, wishing for the moment to last forever. — The five years of pain and the longing meant little when he was this close to you. And your orgasm washes over you when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit one final time. 

Beomgyu groans when he feels you clench around his cock, the soft noises spilling from your lips were angelic in his ears as he kisses you through your climax. — Only when the aftershocks have simmered down and your body begins to feel heavy, do you open your eyes again. And this time you know what to say. 

“I only see you too.” 

And perhaps it was a mistake. 

But right now, this is everything you need.

⸝⸝

It wasn’t long until the sun rose again, basking your bedroom in a warm light. The first intruding rays of sunshine hits your face, making your eyes press together as you try to close the day out. You don’t move, afraid that everything would become real if you did. Perhaps you could just lay here forever, frozen in time, unable to think and unable to speak. It was an almost pleasant thought. 

But you soon sit up, pulling your tired body into a slumped position as you grab ahold of your pounding head. Fuck, just how much did you drink? — It’s with great effort that you crack an eye open, scanning your lonesome bedroom with hazy vision. Your gaze falls on him. Sprawled out across the mattress, blanket thrown over his hips, barely concealing his naked body from your view, Beomgyu sleeps soundly. 

So it did actually happen. It hadn’t been just a slip of thought, a pleasant dream. 

Taking the moment to study his sleeping form, your fingers itch to reach out and touch him. You find yourself envious of his peacefulness. Envious of his relaxed muscles, envious of his unbothered expression. You envy the soft breaths he emits as his mind remains shielded by the figments of his dreams. You wished you could dream too. — Anything, you would give anything to not be conscious right now, to not have to deal with the consequences of last night. 

In the morning light, everything looked different. — You’re not so sure that’s a good thing. 

Somewhere on the floor, amongst the mess of discarded clothes, your phone vibrates. The blaring sound slices your ears like knives, and with a small groan, you pull yourself from the bed. — The call runs out, but it’s not long before it starts again. Following its source, you rummage through the garments, finally grasping the device in your hand. But as your unfocused eyes finally settle on the screen, you suddenly turn stone cold sober. 

11am. 

Fuck. You were supposed to pick Teddy up an hour ago. Your grandma's name flashes across the screen, phone buzzing in your hand as you stare at the call, dumbfounded. — A quiet grunt behind you snaps your attention back to Beomgyu who was shifting on the mattress. He mumbles a string of incoherent nonsense, quickly making you power off your phone as you rush to his side. 

“Fuck, shit- You need to wake up!” 

His whole body writhes as you shake him by his shoulders, making his head fall back as he groans. “Wake up!” You practically yell, forcing the sleep from his system as you try and tug him into a sitting position. — Beomgyu huffs, propping himself up on his elbows as he squints up at you through tired eyes. 

“What…What’s going on..?” He murmurs, running a disoriented hand through his blond hair, spreading it in all directions. Had it not been for the fact that you were late to pick up your son, and that the realization that last night had been a mistake, a grave one, you probably would’ve found the sight of him rather cute. 

But you can’t fathom any other words beside, “You need to leave. Now.” Without waiting or a response you turn back to the floor, gathering his clothes before shoving them in his arms. Beomgyu, who's still half asleep, rubs his groggy eyes as he gingerly takes his jeans from you. — “Is somethin’ wrong?” He asks, his voice laced thick and raspy as he tugs the pants up his thighs, searching for his belt. 

You nearly jump at his words, exhaling a short breath as you turn to look at him. “Everything is wrong”, you say, arms wrapping around your torso, hugging the old t-shirt you’d thrown on tight. — Beomgyu frowns, fastening his belt as he reaches for his shirt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wonders as he tugs the fabric over his head,  “Thought we were good, no?” 

Good? 

Good?

Swallowing a scoff, you instead bite the inside of your cheek. “I…”, your nails dig into your upper arms, “It’s complicated..” Your words were empty, he knew that too. You know he did. 

Beomgyu huffs, running a hand through his hair one final time as he glances you up and down. “I can see that”, he mutters, quickly averting his gaze, causing you to do the same. The floorboards in which your eyes landed seemed very interesting at that moment. You follow the soft trails of wood, the sharp corner where one plank met the other, the slight gradient in their ever so warm and brown tone. — It’s not long until you can feel his attention on you again. 

“You should probably leave..”

You don’t want him to leave. Or maybe you did. — You wanted the regret to go away, you wanted the guilt to stop eating away at your chest, slowly taking over your body and your soul. It would never go away if he didn’t go away, at least so you thought. Your arms have started to hurt, and you would surely draw blood if you didn’t ease the grip in which your hands dug into your skin. 

“You think it was a mistake.” It’s not a question but a statement, and he says it like it was written in the stars. Yes. This had all been a mistake and you should’ve never let him kiss you, you should’ve never taken him home and you should’ve never let him in your bed. — You should’ve never opened your heart for him again. 

Your following silence weighs heavy. And mere moments later, he’s moving, dodging you, as if afraid that you’d explode if he came too close. He pushes the bedroom door open, and you’re quick to follow, quietly trailing behind. — With your head pounding and blood rushing beneath the surface of your skin, you pray he doesn’t see anything he’s not supposed to. Kicking away the shark plushie discarded in the hallway before he even notices it. And when he steps into his shoes, you make sure to stand before the wall containing all Teddy’s drawings. 

Neither of you say anything. And you’re certain that he won’t. But when the sun hits his face as he steps outside, he suddenly stops, slowly turning around as he looks at you. Under the bright light of day, his eyes looked warm once more, not the cold and distant look they'd held back at the restaurant, nor the lustful one from last night. — Right now he only looked like Beomgyu. 

His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, but he doesn’t move to kiss you. — “I didn’t think it was a mistake.” Is all he says, and he lets the words linger, even though it’s clear he isn’t expecting a response. And when the moment passes, he turns back as he walks down the stoney pathway leading out onto the street. 

You can’t pull yourself from the doorway, watching helplessly as he disappears in the horizon. It was obvious now that he had missed you just as much as you had missed him. Perhaps even more. — The thought scared you. 

⸝⸝

Two weeks. 

They would be in town for two more weeks, then they would be gone. Two weeks. You could do that. All you had to do was not slip up, to not look his way, to not allow yourself the pleasure of feeling anything but hatred for him. You had to forget that anything ever happened between the two of you, and you had to obliterate the fact that you’d enjoyed it. 

But it was hard. Nearly impossible even. 

Yeonjun thought it’d be a good idea to spend time together. You didn’t think so. Because suddenly you’re forced to come face to face with the person you were longing to forget. Every single one of your mistakes, all stored in one man, and that was him. The mistakes you were running from and the mistakes you were ashamed of. Now they were being played on repeat before your very eyes. 

Beomgyu seemed to be everywhere. 

He holds the door for you, and your gaze locks with his. A fluttery feeling surges within your chest. You remind yourself that he forgot your 6 month anniversary.

He gives you the last strawberry on your picnic, ignoring the glances he receives from the others. You take it, your fingers brushing against one another, a jolt of electricity rushing between the two of you. You remind yourself that he always made you eat dinner alone. 

He asks you how your day was. Trying his hardest to strike a conversation with you. You remind yourself that he forgot to reply for three days. 

He compliments your hair. You remind yourself that you hate him. 

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many bad and hurtful memories you forced yourself to relive, it didn’t help. — Your heart still beats uncontrollably around him, your palms feel sweaty whenever he’s near and suddenly, you’re at a loss for words. 

A week and a half passes. It draws by agonizingly slow, but at the same time, it all seems to go by too fast. You don’t know if you want it to end or not. Part of you is relieved to have him gone in a matter of three days, another part of you is near heartbroken. Did he feel the same? You wanted to ask him, you wanted to tell him what’s on your mind and you wanted him to understand. But Beomgyu had never been understanding. 

Teddy had been spending the majority of his days with his great grandma. And while he had plenty of fun, you missed your son. — It was why you canceled on Yeonjun last minute when he asked if you were joining them by the beach. Instead you spent your afternoon with Teddy, out in your small yard as you lay in the grass, taking turns painting a great white shark, Teddy’s favorite. 

“Don’t you think it needs a bigger fin?” You ask, pointing toward the half-painted shark. Your son purses his lips, gripping the brush between his small hands tightly. “He needs bigger teeth too”, he states, blatantly ignoring your request for a larger fin as he instead draws sharp fangs in its mouth. 

It didn’t matter what you did, you lived for every second with Teddy. He eased your worries without even knowing it. — Brushing your fingers through his unkempt hair, you’re suddenly reminded of Beomgyu. They both had the same, thick and untame hair, standing in all directions when they woke up, and an easy target for the wind. Teddy also had dimples when he smiled, and his eyes were the same warm and brown shade as his dad’s. 

Sometimes you feel guilty. Guilty for keeping someone as precious as his son from Beomgyu. And perhaps it made you a bad person, a selfish and an evil one. Someone who only thought about herself, fleeing when things got hard and refusing to acknowledge her own feelings. — Or maybe you were just scared. Heartbroken, alone and terrified. You often made excuses like that for yourself, justifying your own wrongdoings by pointing out the faults of others. 

That was your biggest flaw. 

Not only were you being unfair toward Beomgyu, but Teddy. Robbing him of a childhood spent in the presence of his father. Were you really going to put your own suffering above the needs of your child? It wasn’t what good mothers did, was it? 

Your silence seems to have rubbed him the wrong way, because it’s only a moment later when Teddy turns his head to look at you. “What’s wrong mommy?” He asks, and the genuine concern vowed into his words makes your chest churn. — “Nothing baby, mommy’s just thinking.” You smile, ruffling the mess of hair atop his head as your attention returns to the painting. The shark had gotten both bigger and sharper teeth as well as the bigger fin you’d requested. 

“You shouldn’t think too much”, he hums, swiping the brush absentmindedly across the canvas, “Ellie says that makes her head hurt.” — The simple statement causes you to huff, a grin tugging across your lips. “I think I’ll have to follow her advice then”, you drawl, picking up a brush of your own as you twirl it between your fingers. 

Teddy nods, tapping the end of his brush thoughtfully against his chin as he studies the painting. “Something missing, Picasso?” You wonder as you follow his line of sight. Your son bites the inside of his cheek before exhaling a heavy breath. “It needs blood!” — Your eyes widen at the exclamation. “Blood? Why on earth would it need something so violent as blood?” 

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s turning your way, a frown etched deep on to his forehead. “It’s not violent”, he counters, “all sharks get blood on their teeth after they eat, that doesn’t make them violent.” — Dumbfounded by the way he argued for his sake, you blink. “I…Sure, but is it really necessary? Why ruin such a perfect painting?” You try to steer him away from the possibility of splashing red paint all over, but once Teddy had made up his mind there was no returning, Beomgyu was similar in that way. 

“I’m not ruining it”, he whines, flicking the brush feathers against his palm in a frustrated manner. Realizing that there was no way for you to win this, you prepared to give in when he suddenly spoke again. — “Blood isn’t a bad thing… People always think it is, but that’s because they don’t know any better. You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand.” Teddy lets the brush drop back onto the canvas, “And my teacher says blood is important for the body, so it can’t be violent right?” 

Half the time you brushed his words off, dismissing them as nothing but a child's imaginative mind. But as you listen to your son speak, with such understanding for the world around him, you feel as though you don’t know him at all. — “No, your teacher’s right, and so are you my love.” Leaning in to kiss the top of his head, your eyes drift over to the shark he’d painted, lingering by the uneven lines and the slightly mismatched colors as they bleed into one another. 

“Forgive your mom for not thinking before she speaks”, you murmur against his soft hair, letting the scent of vanilla shampoo cloud your senses. Teddy hums, his tiny fingers splayed across the canvas as he taps the sharp teeth of the shark. “It’s okay, but you really should look at the shark and not the blood”, he says as he gingerly rises to his feet, “But not yet, because I haven't added the blood!” 

Without waiting for a response he dashes back inside in search of the red paint. You don’t bother hiding the giggle that surfaces as you watch him go. Your son never failed to surprise you, and sometimes you wondered if he knew how bright he was. — Letting your gaze drop back to the painting, you turn the brush between your fingers, letting its feathers glide against the canvas, all the while you grin to yourself. 

Teddy’s words linger in your mind, and you find yourself lost in thoughts as you go over their meaning. His intentions had been nothing but pure, yet you find yourself envisioning something completely different than sharks. —  You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand. No matter how hard you tried to shake the words off you just couldn’t. They played on loop in your head, each time louder and louder, and all you saw was…

“Somethin’ funny?” 

Beomgyu. 

His rough voice pulls you from the depths of your thoughts, making your head jerk up as you come face to face with the biggest mistake of your life. Beomgyu looms over you, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his gray jeans as he peers down at you through the bright sun. — You had been so caught up in your previous conversation with Teddy that you hadn’t even heard the squeaky fence gate opening, nor had you realized that you’d been grinning like a psychopath this whole time. 

What the fuck was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here, couldn’t. Teddy was bound to come back any moment now. You open your mouth to say something, awkwardly rising to your feet as you brush the grass from your legs. “What are you..” — “You didn’t join us today”, he says, swiftly cutting you off as he takes a step closer. Instinctively taking one back, you glance around your backyard, searching for the others, but Beomgyu shakes his head, “I came alone. I’m the only one who knows where you live, remember?” He says, a faint smirk ghosting over his lips. 

You swallow, fingers nervously cramping up by your sides as you resist the urge to clench your hands into fists. “I…Well something came up”, you lie, feigning oblivion as you avert your gaze. Beomgyu hums, his eyes scanning the small house you resided in, as if getting his first proper look. “I see”, he hums, clearly not convinced but choosing not to pry further. “I just..” He begins, though quickly falling silent as he holds his tongue. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, running an anxious hand through his blonde hair as his gaze avoids yours. “It’s just, we’re leaving in three days, and um”, he clears his throat, “It would be nice to see you before that.” 

Your stomach might as well just have dropped seven floors, plummeting against rock hard concrete. Your heart felt heavy and your mind scattered. Had you led him on? Given him the wrong idea?  It had been a mistake, but he knew that, because he’d been very open about that a week and a half ago. 

“I didn’t think it was a mistake.”

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know the shit he put you through. He didn’t know anything. You had to tell him now, you had to make it clear that what happened a week ago was never happening again and that he was an idiot for believing otherwise. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it in you to treat him like that, not again. You couldn’t bear the look on his face when you’d told him to get out last time, and you wouldn’t now either. 

“Listen, this isn’t…” Your words are cut short by the sound of a third voice, a much more high pitched and whiny one, one belonging to a child. 

“Mommy! I can’t find the red paint I’ve looked everywhere!” Teddy’s sob breaks the tension out in the backyard as he comes running toward you. Tears stream down his round face, his eyes screwing shut as he clings to your leg. You swallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you disregard Beomgyu and turn toward your son. — “Shh, I’m sure it’s there somewhere, I’ll help you look in a minute okay, love?” 

Your soft spoken words are met by an even louder sob as Teddy shakes his head. “I want the paint now!” He hiccups, sniveling against your thigh as he latches on to you. — “Hey, hey, I know”, you say, prying him from your leg as you crouch down opposite him. “And I’ll find it for you. So why don’t you wipe your tears, and say hello to my friend okay?” 

Teddy slowly nods as he lets you pat his cheeks dry. Only now does he seem to register Beomgyu’s presence as he turns to him teary eyes. — Dreading the look on his face, you slowly stand back up as you turn toward him once more. But Beomgyu looks…just like himself, the same playful grin he usually wore, stuck to his face, almost practiced. If it wasn’t for the way his jaw clenched, and the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you would’ve thought nothing to be wrong. 

But if he was upset, he didn’t express it. Instead he leans down, extending his hand for Teddy to shake, to which your son eagerly responds with a small squeal. “Hi Mr, my name is Teddy”, he says, flashing a smile that showcases his missing teeth. Beomgyu returns to gestures, introducing himself just like he would anyone else. 

“Are you one of mommy’s friends?” Teddy then asks, completely disregarding your warning glare as he grins. Beomgyu’s eyes flicker between you and your son, a questioning glimmer behind his warm irises. — “I am”, he says before pressing his lips in a thin line, give Teddy a tight smile. Teddy himself, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to ask something else when you hurry to interrupt him. 

“Why don’t you wait for me inside so that we can look for the red paint together?” You say, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. Given a few moments of consideration, Teddy finally nods. “Okay”, he hums, turning to Beomgyu one final time, “ Goodbye Mr. Beomgyu!” — You watch his retreating frame, hoping to make whatever conversation was about to happen next short. 

Once Teddy is completely out of sight, you turn back toward Beomgyu, a sense of dread washing over you. He looks… Unlike anything you’d ever witnessed. There isn’t a single fragment of emotion on his face, not one. You wait for him to say something, to break the surrounding you. Part of you wants him to yell, to shout. Another part wishes for him to not even mention it at all. 

A whole minute passes and you slowly realize that he isn’t going to say anything. You swallow, thinking of ways to dodge the subject at hand, to send him off without ever having to discuss the topic that so obviously laid between the two of you. — “It’s not…I mean I can explain it but..” 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” 

His cold and sharp tone slices through the warm air. Like a dark and rainy cloud on a sunny day. And if anything, it only adds to the growing tension around you. “What?” You felt as though you were melting under the hot sun, sweat dripping down your forehead as your throat dried up. — “I mean, I get that you had shit going on, but this?” His voice grows agitated, and Beomgyu pushes his hair back, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features. 

“I…I’m sorry I don’t understand what you’re talking ab-” 

“My son. I’m talking about my fucking son”, he snaps, his gaze turning from cold to fury, “My son that I didn’t even know I had up until five minutes ago.” — Your mouth falls open, all air getting knocked from your lungs as you blink slowly. 

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look”, Beomgyu jeers, “He looks exactly like me, how long did you plan on dragging this out? Were you going to let me go back to Seoul without as much as a word about him? When were you planning on telling me? When he graduates fucking college?” He’s shouting now, just like he had so many times before. You cringe at the uncomfortable feeling in your chest. 

“I was going to tell you!” You cut him off, your eyes silently pleading for empathy as your hands balled up into fists. “I just…I needed time”, you say, biting the inside of your cheek as Beomgyu scoffs. He lets out a short, breathy laugh, even though there was little to be laughed about right now. “Time?” — “You needed…time? Fucking hell you’re hilarious.” 

He continues to laugh through the irony of it all, pacing back and forth on the freshly cut grass as he runs his hands through his hair. “I mean, this whole time, I’ve been thinking, wondering, how you were doing”, he mutters as he shakes his head to himself. — “I’ve been worried”, he adds, throwing you a short glance before he resumes his pacing. “But it seems you’ve gotten on just fine with our kid.” 

“It’s not what happened, if you please just hear me out I can-” “How old is he?” Beomgyu cuts you off once again, stopping mid-step as he turns to you with a small frown. “I…He’s turning 5 in November..” You awkwardly admit, your nails digging into the heel of your hand as you swallow. Beomgyu snorts, and for a second you think he’s about to yell at you again. “Five fucking years”, he mutters, silently counting the dates in his head. It only clarified what he already knew. That Teddy was his son. 

“Well isn’t this wonderful? And you were about to make me miss his fifth birthday as well I presume.” It’s not a question, but you reply anyway. “I was going to tell you..” Your words have little effect, you knew that too. But it wasn’t like there was much else you could say. — You could bring up the fact that he hurt you, you could bring up the nights you spent alone, the canceled dates and the ignorant ways he treated you. They all seemed minimal compared to this. You knew that you were in the wrong, and there was nothing you could do to save yourself. You can only watch as you slowly burn, turning into nothing but ash and dust at the hands of fire. 

You should’ve told him five years ago. 

“I’m sorry.” The whisper barely makes it past your quivering lips, and had it not been for the ever thick silence laying between you, Beomgyu wouldn’t have caught it. But he does, his expression twisting into an annoyed grimace. — “Yeah, because sorry solves everything”, he bites, his continuous pacing coming to a sudden stop as he turns to face you completely. “But that’s the problem with you.” He points an accusing finger your way: 

“You never think about anyone but yourself, and you never have.” 

That’s a lie. You tell yourself that he’s lying, pushing back the tears building in your eyes and instead forcing yourself to become angry. Your shaky exhale feels shallow as you glance down at the green grass. “I think you should go”, you refuse to look at him, “my son’s waiting for me.” 

He doesn't say anything, in fact you can barely make out his uneven and ragged breathing, nor the steps as he retreats. The only confirmation of his departure was the squeaky fence gate, and this time you heard it as it echoed through your garden. 

⸝⸝

When the first pregnancy test showed positive, you went and bought another one. And when it turned up with the same results you bought a third. Then a fourth and a fifth. You never bought a sixth, you called your grandma instead. The phone nearly slipped from your sweaty fingers as you with a trembling hand brought it to your ear, the other one clutching the sink tightly. 

“Nana?” 

You nearly sobbed at the sound of her voice. The soft rasp of her tongue, still groggy from her sleep, confused as to why you’d woken her at such a later hour. — “I’m scared”, your whisper is barely picked up by the poor connection, but you can hear your grandma shuffling about, a light being turned on somewhere in the distance. 

“Dear, you are being blessed with the gift of life, it’s not something to fear.” Her soft spoken words make your heart clench, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a blessing..” It felt like a curse. A cruel and mean vengeance casted upon you to make you pay for leaving him like that, a reminder of what you’d lost and a reminder of what had hurt you the most. 

Your grandmother sighs on the other line. “My love, this is your chance to make things right, it’s your chance to start anew.” — “Do not blame this miracle for the sorrows of your past, but treasure it for the joys of your future.” Her tone is slightly hushed, laced with sleep but still as powerful as you’d always remembered it. 

With a final sob, you straighten your back, inhaling a deep breath before slowly letting it go. “But nana, what if I’m not good at it?” A rush of anxiety washes over you, the realization that you were actually about to do this, alone, becoming crystal clear. — Your grandmother huffs, and you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Then you will learn”, she simply states, a sense of finalization in her voice, as if she was closing the discussion for further questions. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you regard your expression in the mirror. From your bloodshot eyes to your puffy cheeks, dried up tear streaks laying flat across them, your swollen and bitten lips and the mess that was your hair. You looked just like you had any other night when Beomgyu had stood you up. The thought makes you scoff, how pathetic of you to cry over such a matter, when situations like these existed. 

“Okay nana”, you exhale, nodding to yourself, “I will.” 

That night you vowed to never cry over Choi Beomgyu again. 

⸝⸝

It took you five years to break that vow. But as you put Teddy to bed that night, finally alone in the comforts of your own bedroom, you allow yourself to break down. Muffling your loud sobs against the pillow, your wet tears staining the soft cotton. It almost hurts, the way your fingers dig into the fabric, so hard that your knuckles have since long turned white. You don’t care, all you could think about was the way Beomgyu had looked at you, with so much anger that you thought you might just dissolve before his very eyes. 

“You never think about anyone but yourself.” 

Was that really how he felt? Was that really who you were? A selfish and uncaring person who hurt whoever she could just to preserve her own tears? And maybe you deserved it. You had waited for his anger, you had waited for five years. But when he kissed you that night, out on the pavement. When he kissed you  rather than lashing out, when he chose to forget the past and try his luck with you once more, you only ended up hurting him further. — So maybe you did deserve it. 

Far too engrossed in your own self loathing thoughts, you fail to catch the soft squeak of your bedroom door as it glides open. The soft padding of feet against the wooden floorboards as a much smaller and lighter person approaches. — Only when the mattress dips, and tiny arms wrap around your chest, do you peer up from your pillow. 

Teddy isn’t looking at you, his face buried against your side as he hugs you tightly. Quickly drawing in a sharp breath and wiping your tears, you turn around to face him. “Hi baby..” Your voice is hoarse, “Did you have another nightmare?” You ask, brushing his hair back. — Teddy looks up, his big brown eyes wide as he shakes his head. “I forgot Sharptooth in here”, he says as he points to the discarded shark plushie on your bed. 

A quiet “oh” is all you can muster, swallowing thickly as you reach for the stuffed animal. “Here you go sweetie”, you give him a small smile, “Want me to tuck you in again?” — Your son shakes his head once more, gripping the shark tightly between his tiny hands. “Why are you crying mom?” He wonders with a small frown, lips stuck out into a pout. 

You shrug, trying to brush the topic off just as quickly as it had surfaced. “Mommy’s just had a long day”, you explain, your hand coming to rest on top of his shoulder. “Was it that man from before?” Teddy asks, and you want to curse yourself for raising such a smart child. — “No honey, he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…thinking I suppose.” 

Teddy lets his head fall to the side, studying you closely, as if trying to detect any lies. When he doesn’t find any, he straightens back up. You’re slightly taken aback when he places his shark plushie in your arms, your son was not on to share his priced shark possessions, so the gesture could only mean he was trying his best to make you feel better. “I told you you shouldn’t think so much mommy”, he comments, an almost accusing edge to his voice. 

“Thinking makes you sad, and it makes your head hurt”, he states as a matter-of-factly. You nod, hugging the stuffed animal against your chest as you mindlessly play with its fins. “You’re right, from now on I’ll only think about the good things.” — “Like you”, your arm snakes around his shoulders, pulling him to your side as you place a kiss to the top of his head. Teddy squeals but doesn’t attempt to pull away from you, instead snuggling closer as he lets out a content sigh. 

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” He asks after a brief moment of silence, peering up at you through hooded eyes. The smile that spreads across your lips makes him grin, “You can.” Teddy immediately reaches for the covers as he tugs them over the two of you, making sure to tuck his mom in well before plopping down beside you. “Good”, he exhales, “I don’t think you should sleep alone today.” 

Your heart flutters at the subtle comment and you wonder what you could’ve done to deserve such a kind son. — Perhaps your nana had been right all those years ago. Teddy was indeed the joys of both your present and future. 

⸝⸝

Three days pass. Three days without as much as a single word from him. And today, they would be leaving. 

After dropping Teddy off at your grandma’s, you find yourself back at the restaurant you’d all gathered at nearly two weeks ago. In the bright light of the sun, it looked far different than it had that evening. Now you could clearly see the cracks in the wall, running down the sides of the building, slowly tearing it apart. The chipped paint on the windows, the dirty glass and the worn out tables on the patio. 

You stop in front of it, your feet leading you to that very same spot on the pavement. The grime and the dirt is clear now, white spots of splattered gum stuck to the asphalt and the small strands of grass that slowly crept their way through the cracks where the road met the sidewalk. — You sigh, anxiously chipping away at the polish on your nails as you hopelessly glance around. 

To a stranger, it might’ve looked as though you were waiting for someone. But that someone would never come, and you knew that. It was just past noon, and they were to leave by late afternoon. — Beomgyu was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t quite place the feeling bubbling in your stomach. But the mere thought of him made it painfully twist. 

Yet you find yourself desperate. Desperate to reach out, to see him once more, even if you know it was going to hurt the both of you. You were selfish, impossibly so. And without a second thought, you fish your phone up from your pocket, swiftly unlocking it as you search for Yeonjun in your contacts. He’d given you his number that day in the grocery store, insisting that the two of you stayed in touch. You were thankful he did. 

The wait seems eternal as you listen to the beeping tone, buzzing against your ear. Perhaps he was busy packing, or perhaps he was mad at you, maybe Beomgyu had told him everything. And perhaps this time, he hadn’t held back. — Just as you were about to give up and return home, the call goes through and Yeonjun’s voice echoes from the other line. “Hey, there you are, I've been trying to get a hold of you for days!” He exclaims, sounding worried. 

Surprised, you blink, not realizing how distant you’d been these past three days. Your mind had been so clouded with the thought of Beomgyu that you hadn't allowed room for anyone else but Teddy. — “I…I’m sorry I haven’t…” You bite your tongue, unsure of how much you were willing to tell. You shake your head, swallowing a deep breath before starting over. “Can I… Can I ask you something?” 

Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate, “Anything.” You smile, even though he can’t see it. Your eyes trace the cobbled road, following the lines between the stones as you spoke. “Have you… Talked to Beomgyu?” Nearly terrified of uttering his name in this situation, your question comes out a mere whisper. 

It’s silent on the other line, and you can only listen to the soft breaths as you await his response. Finally, he answers, a short “No.” 

The confirmation makes you feel… Indifferent? You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to cry, and the confusion between those emotions left you feeling…nothing. “Oh… I see.” It’s hard to sound unbothered, and Yeonjun can tell by the way your voice trembles, you’re certain of that. — “He’s been out all day, I’m not sure where he is, did you want to see him before we left?” He wonders, and you can’t seem to pick up any kind of anger in his voice. Perhaps Beomgyu hadn’t told him after all. 

Did you want to see him? Yes. More than anything. 

“No, it’s fine… I just..” You hesitate, “It’s nothing.” If Beomgyu hadn’t told him anything, then you wouldn’t either. It would just complicate things, right? It would make things even worse. And the thought of losing not only Beomgyu, but the others as well, was unthinkable. — Yeonjun, on the other hand, doesn’t sound entirely convinced as he hums, taking his time before speaking once more. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, not trying to mask the concern he radiates. 

“I am.” You lied, because lying was the only semblance of power you still held. 

⸝⸝

You preferred white wine over red. But as you sat on your porch that evening, the half empty bottle clutched tightly in one hand, red tinting your lips, it suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore. — Thankful that you planned for Teddy to stay the night at your grandmas, you can take solace in the liquor as you watch the sun set over the horizon. You don’t even realize how late it’s gotten until the patio’s automatic light is flicked on, the warm yellow basking you in new light. 

Perched on the very edge of your porch, your legs swing back and forth with little direction, your movements slow and slightly clumsy. You purse your lips, a small grimace flashing across your face as you peer down at the bottle in your hand, watching as the dark liquid swishes inside the glass under your guidance. 

It was self pity that had brought you out here. It was self pity that had made you down half the cheap bottle of a wine you didn't even like. And it was tears of self pity that had dried down on your cheeks. But you had stopped crying now, and you’d stopped drinking too, now you merely existed, just another breathing living organism. Under the stars, you felt small, insignificant, like your problems were nothing against the big world outside and beyond. Perhaps they were. 

You wonder how long it would take for you to get over him this time. — Would it be over in a day? Or would it hurt for years? Finally you understand how he felt when you just walked out on him that night all those years ago. When you yelled for him to leave, when you locked him out of your life and left. And fuck it hurt. 

No, you needed another sip. Just one more, you tell yourself. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you suddenly halt. The squeaking sound of your fence gate makes you freeze. Had it been the wind? Hardly. That gate was both old, rusty and not to mention heavy. A sudden lump in your throat forms, and you’re unable to down a single drop of wine, so you set the bottle down. You don’t even dare look, afraid of what you might see, of who you might see. 

But in the end, you do. The sounds of approaching footsteps fill the silent nightair, and you watch as a tall shadow makes its way up the stoned path to your house, with heavy and slow steps. Finally emerging from the shadows and into the faint glow of the patio lights, you see his face clearly. 

Beomgyu looks like he hasn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes are prominent and his usually styled blonde hair is everywhere. He doesn’t say anything, hands stuffed into his pockets. His gaze is back to the same cold and indifferent one he’d held at the restaurant when you first met. His tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek before he says, “You shouldn’t be drinking.” 

Following his gaze toward the wine bottle, you scoff. But Beomgyu is persistent. “You can’t hold your liquor, and I don’t want you around my kid drunk.” He puts emphasis on the words, dragging them out, shoving them in your face. Your brows pull together in an angered frown. “You’re here to poke and prod at me over that?” You say, your tone accusing as you get up on wobbly legs, your bare feet now touching the cold glass.

Beomgyu sneers, grabbing ahold of your shoulders as you take a clumsy step forward. “Of course I’m here to nag you about my fucking son, my son that you kept from me.” He spits the sentence out and it becomes clear that he had only come to pick a fight. — His grip on you tightens, fingers digging into your shoulder blades. “And I come here to see you drinking your problems away, running from them like you always fucking have!” 

“Shut up..” Your attempt at telling him off comes out slurred, almost inaudible. And Beomgyu continues. “You’re a fucking coward”, he seethes. “Shut up”, your voice grows higher. “And do you know who has to pay for it?” He huffs out a short laugh, “Me. Me and everyone else around you.” — “Shut up”, you’re almost pleading with him now. Beomgyu hears none of it. 

“I thought about it”, he says, the already harsh grip around your shoulders only increasing and you wince. “I’ve thought about it for three whole days..” He swallows, his dark eyes searching yours. “And I’ve realized that you’re nothing but a liar who uses people as she pleases-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

It takes all of your strength to push him back, to pry his hands from your body as you free yourself of his vice-like grip. You tumble backwards, the back of your knees hitting the porch as you almost fall over, luckily catching yourself just in time. — Beomgyu on the other hand, is watching you with an expression best described as disbelieving and outraged. His hands balling up into fists by his sides, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might hurt. 

You don’t let him get another word out, your loud voice slicing through the air. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lay awake each night, guilt eating away at every single fucking part of me!” The exhale you emit is shaky, your heart palpitating as you gather yourself before continuing. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? Do you have any idea of what it’s like to have a baby all on your own, with no one to help?” 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hold his cold gaze. “Have you ever had to book an ultrasound and go all on your own? Have you ever had to stay up until three in the morning, coddling a baby you never asked for, telling him that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know what okay even  felt like!” — Quickly blinking away the fresh tears that threaten to spill down your already stained cheeks, you avert your gaze. “You don’t know anything. You weren’t there.” 

Beomgyu remains silent when you finish. The only thing still confirming his presents was his jagged breathing. You don’t look at him, you don’t think you could, even if you wanted to. 

“I don’t regret what I did.” Your voice is softer now, almost whispering. But you know he’s listening. “I was young, and I was scared.” You shake your head, “I’m not saying I did the right thing but I do not regret it and you cannot make me change my mind. 

Your last statement makes him scoff, his jaw twitching as his eyebrows furrow. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” — “Fine, you wanted to run off, but why didn’t you tell me. Five fucking years why didn’t you tell me?” His voice grows in intensity with each word. You hold your tongue, looking him in the eyes though unable to form a response. “What?” He huffs, his gaze narrowing down on you. When you remain silent he takes a step forward. 

“What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!” 

“Like what, Beomgyu?” 

The use of his name makes him waver, you hadn’t said it, not once since he returned. And you can tell the gesture only angers him further. — “Like the whole fucking world owes you an apology! You left, you left without a word and you..” He hesitates, swallowing thickly as he regains his composure. “You took my son away from me.” 

“I took your son away from you because you took my life away from me, and I was scared you were going to take his as well!” You’re crying now, unable to stop the tears from flowing down your eyes as you scream at him, hopelessly trying to overpower his sharp words. 

Out of all the things you’d said to him, this was the one that finally seemed to go through as Beomgyu falters backward, his face dropping as his frown deepens. — “What?” This time the word comes out a quiet, uncertain whisper. He looks almost confused. 

“You’re not the only one who got hurt.” Not thinking about how you worded yourself or what you were even saying, you continue, afraid that if you didn’t grasp this opportunity, it would never reappear again. — “You hurt people. And you don’t even realize it. You hurt me.” He opens his mouth as if to speak, you already know what he’s about to say, and you beat him to it. 

“You can’t seriously believe I left you only because of that scandal? Seeing you with another woman on the news hurt sure, but it didn’t hurt as much as the missed calls, the unreplied text messages, the dates you canceled, the anniversaries you forgot and the days you could go without speaking to me.” 

You inhale. 

“You made me feel like a shadow in my own relationship. And I was terrified that you’d do the same to Teddy.” 

You exhale. 

Beomgyu looks as if he’s fighting an inner battle, his gaze flickering between yours and somewhere far off in the distance. “That’s the problem with you”, you say, letting your arms drop to your sides, “I run from my flaws, but you, you don’t even see them.” — “And nothing is ever your fault, is it Beomgyu?” 

The silence that falls over the two of you after that weighed heavier than any you’d ever experienced before. The sky could come crashing down at any moment and it still wouldn’t be able to overpower the ringing sounds of nothing. Under the yellow gleam of the patio lights Beomgyu looks lifeless, his skin had turned a sickly pale and the dark bags under his eyes even more prominent. 

He’s the first to break the quiet. 

“I just..” He begins but quickly tails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his gaze drifts toward the grass. “I don’t want you to disappear again.” He looks up at you, his dark eyes suddenly gaining a new emotion, one you hadn’t seen on him ever, a pleading one. — When you don’t reply he lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “The thought of you disappearing again scares me”, he admits. 

You feel your jaw slacking as your mouth falls open. “It…It does?” You ask, not believing his words. But Beomgyu nods as he takes a step forward, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. “Of course it fucking does”, he exhales, his fingers clenching into fists before unclenching again, as if holding himself back from reaching out. — “Why do you think I kissed you that night? Why the fuck do you think I got out of that cab and followed you to bed?” 

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. You catch the glossy layer of tears in his eyes just as he blinks them away. “It scares me so bad that I…” He hesitates, but only for a moment. “It scares me so bad that I would rather end up hurt in your arms than never seeing you again.” 

“I thought I told you, that night, didn’t I?” He says, biting the inside of his cheek as he searches your face. “Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.” You thought it was a drunken confession, something he said in the heat of the moment, you never expected him to… To fully mean it. 

Try as you might but no words come out, no matter how hard you will yourself to say something, anything. Beomgyu doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he reaches for the discarded wine bottle, bringing it to his lips as he takes a large swig. You watch as he swallows, not hesitating for even a second as he downs another gulp, then another. Only when you pry the bottle from his hands does his attention revert back to you. 

“Did you mean it?” You ask, clutching the bottle tightly in one hand as your eyes narrow on his. Beomgyu nods, licking the remaining liquor from his lips. “Every single word of it”, he says. — “Okay”, you sigh. Following his lead as you, too, bring the wine to your lips, letting the red liquid flow down your throat for a brief moment. 

When lowering the bottle once more, you don’t wait before acting, not daring to think your next move through even once, terrified that you would back out if you did. Instead you take a final step forward, closing the small distance between you completely before flinging your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down on yours. 

Beomgyu responds by immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands settling on your hips as he pulls you flush against his chest. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on his tongue and you’re certain it does on your own. — No words are exchanged, they’re not needed, not when his body is so close to yours. 

He sighs into the kiss, his breath warm in contrast to the cool night air. It doesn’t feel like that night, two weeks ago. There was no lust now, no desire, and no rush. Only the soft sounds of your hearts beating against one another, in tune and perfectly harmonized. It’s the kind of kiss that could go on forever without you even realizing it. The kind of kiss that would make your head spin and your lungs ache as you neglected the need for air. 

You thought you knew everything there was to know about him. But right now, he feels like a completely different person, a person you could really love. Maybe he’d always been like that. Maybe you’d just refused to acknowledge the good, far too focused on the bad. 

You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand 

It was then it hit you. You didn’t understand Beomgyu at all, and neither did he understand you. The lack of communication is what has led you to where you are right now. All because you were so fixated on the idea of love that you completely forgot what it is actually all about. Understanding. 

Your hand caresses his cheek when you pull back, the gesture is soft, a silent apology. Beomgyu turns his head, placing a gentle kiss on your palm, a silent apology. — “Help me understand”, you whisper as you glance up at him, relieved to find his eyes back to their warm brown. He looks confused, but lets you place your free hand on top of his chest, just above the steady beating of his heart. “In here”, you say, “Let me understand what goes on in here.” 

He smiles, a genuine smile before leaning in to kiss you once more. One of his hands rests on top of yours, and you feel the slight flutter of his chest under the tips of your fingers when you return his kiss. — When he pulls back, he does the same, the hand not clutching yours, reaching up to rest above your heart. Beomgyu remains quiet for another moment, silently listening to the soft pattern of your heartbeat. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they find yours without hesitation. 

“Only if you let me understand yours.” You nod, a timid smile splayed across your lips. — You stay like that for a while, listening to the sounds of each other's heart beats. Knowing that they both beat for the very same reason.  The knowing somehow made it even more special.

It connected you.

taglist ✎.. @liaatiny @izzyy-stuff @heeambi @saejinniestar @lickingan0rchid @hyunelixbun @lunesdesire @n0-thisispatrick @tyunderella @fancypeacepersona @hmusunoo @paegesoobin @n1k1mura @iristrrsgn @ezeert

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024