#stopped processing time passing so long ago man......

[fauxpapillons]

merry birth for me!

[phagodyke]

was abt to go out to the gym but the adhd referral service finally emailed me to say they need me to call them to book an appointment and it says in the email they don't make appts via email but I'm DEAF I Know they know that bc its on my fucking patient form UGHHHHH

[nanamiskentos]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (24) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: hihi ,, sorry this update took so long (>'-'<) hope u like it <3 personally think it could've been freakier but also planning on another extra of pregnant oc n bbydaddy jk fucking LOL so i wouldn't worry abt it... ch is lengthy fyi … also,, bby2’s name reveal 😝

warnings: pregnancy mood swings, hot tub sex (oc is in her 2nd trimester) pregnant oc, jealousy, dirty talk, breast play, some slapping, kissing, and fucking

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

so much happened before the wedding. 

for instance, you two pulled zion out of daycare and enrolled him in preschool. with all your leave time from work, this allowed you to spend more precious moments with him and while still having time for yourself. another thing is that you and jungkook finally pushed through packing up and moving homes. truth be told, you two bought the penthouse a few years ago but paused on the mini renovations due to your busy work schedules and personal circumstances. on top of that, when jungkook came back from new york he talked about leaving the company to start something of his own. 

if that doesn’t feel like a lot… you two got married. 

married. 

in the midst of the aftermath of your wedding and moving process; you and jungkook are expecting another. and wow, does it feel like you two can’t catch your breath. the timing of everything has truly never felt more chaotic yet so right. 

you and jungkook deserve every bit of this new chapter.

this new life. 

so, with everything in motion, you two decided to take a take a moment and slow things down.

to catch your breath, step away, and spend some intentional time together before the next wave of change rolls in. a cabin trip, tucked away from the noise, just the two of them and the growing baby you carry, is the perfect escape.

when the car slows to stop, you take a moment to admire the soft snow that coats the cabin’s rooftop and blankets the surrounding pine trees. jungkook turns off the engine and gazes out the window. as he marvels at the sight, he turns to you and thinks; 

there’s no comparison. 

you catch his gaze and scoff at him. 

“don’t look at me like that,” you warn. “we haven’t even made it inside the cabin. i���m 5 months pregnant, jungkook. i can’t fuck in this audi like—”

“you’re so beautiful,” he leans over and kisses your forehead. “that’s all.”

you tighten your lips and nod. 

he’s been awfully good at making your heart flutter these days… could be the pregnancy hormones. could be the fact that you married the right man. somewhere in between, you can’t even find it in yourself to question it or think any deeper. you’re just thankful. you’re so grateful for him. 

jungkook steps out first.

he inhales deeply and stretches. taking in the stillness of the mountains, the snow beneath him crunches under his boots. he hurries around to open the car door for you. offering his hand, you smile and take it. your gloved finger curls around his as you carefully step out of the car, one hand instinctively resting on your round belly. 

"oh.. wow. honey, this is beautiful,” you murmur in awe. 

jungkook tugs you close and kisses the top of your head. "it's aight. i think you're—"

"oh, my love..." you look down at your belly and pout. "your daddy is so annoying. he's such a yapper. i hope you take after me and know when to shut up."

the first day passes faster than you expect.

after settling into the cozy cabin, you and jungkook decide to explore the small downtown area. it’s a charming place, with snow-dusted streets and twinkling lights in every shop window. you wander hand in hand, stopping to sample street food—warm, savory bites that fill the crisp air with delicious smells. then there’s dessert, sweet enough to leave you both way too full but completely satisfied. by the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you head back to the cabin before 6pm, ready to settle in for a cozy evening.

the two of you curl up on the couch, binge-watching bad romcoms. between the predictable plots and over-the-top drama, you’re both laughing harder than you have in weeks. every ridiculous twist has you snorting, and you spend half the time arguing over the characters’ choices, tossing playful jabs at each other’s taste in movies. you haven’t felt this light, this refreshed in each other's company, in what feels like forever.

it’s a stark contrast to the year before, which was filled with more ups and downs than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. even now, it’s still hard to look back at those difficult times without a weight settling in your chest. but it’s moments like this—when you’re playing a board game with jungkook, battling over a meaningless win—that make your heart soar.

jungkook, of course, refuses to let you win, which might be the funniest thing he’s done in a while. he’s always been competitive, but when it comes to you, he usually doesn’t mind losing, letting you take the victory just to see you smile.

but tonight?

tonight’s different.

you’re both teasing each other mercilessly, throwing out fake strategies and dramatic groans every time someone gains an advantage.

“you’re really gonna make me earn this, huh?” you laugh, shaking your head as he shoots you a smirk.

“you better believe it,” he replies, eyes gleaming with playful determination.

"does the fact that i'm carrying your baby—"

"no, no, no—d-don't pull the milf card," he panics. "don't be a cheater like that."

"what's it to you? if i'm a milf, you're a dilf."

the back-and-forth banter fills the cabin with warmth, the kind of joy that’s rare and precious.

every time he tries to outwit you, you only love him more for it. this is the jungkook you fell in love with—the one who knows how to make even the simplest moments feel special.

as you look at him mid-game, you think to yourself; you win no matter what.

this is the love you fought for, and right here, in this cozy cabin, surrounded by snow and laughter, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

when the next morning comes, you and jungkook wake up slow together.

over the past 5 months, you’ve been so nauseous, your feet have been swelling (you cried the other day because your old snow boots wouldn’t fit), and your body just... feels less like your own every day.

between the sleepless nights and aching back, you’ve been longing for a break, something to help you feel even just a little bit more like yourself again.

he’s constantly touching your belly and making sure you aren’t bending your knees or lifting a finger. you’ve always known him to be an acts-of-service type of guy, but he surely is a different man when you’re pregnant.

he’s so fucking clingy...

but you are too.

jungkook knows how much you’ve been struggling; he sees it in the way you wince when you stand up too fast, or how you press your hand to your lower back after a long day. when he suggested a babymoon—an escape to a peaceful spa retreat—you didn’t hesitate to agree.

he planned everything perfectly, even down to booking a specialist renowned for her prenatal massages. you both have been counting down the days, excited for the chance to unwind together.

before heading to the spa, you and jungkook decide to grab some coffee.

today, the weather is cool with a crispness in the air that feels refreshing after yesterday’s warmth.

jungkook parks the car at a nearby café on the corner of the street and helps you out. the small bell above the door jingles as you walk in. the vibe inside is laid-back and peaceful—wooden tables, soft lighting, and a chalkboard menu that gives it a homely feel, but the low hum of conversation fills the space with a quiet buzz of life.

you both are a little more sensitive this time around, but who could blame you? between the pregnancy hormones and the life changes, things have been tough. but it’s okay. things are better now.

life has never felt more full.

jungkook squeezes your hand before heading up to the counter to order, while you take a seat by the window, a few tables away from the barista station. from your spot, you can watch him as he approaches the counter, where a young woman with bright eyes and an easy smile greets him.

"good morning! what can i get for you today?" she asks, her voice chipper and smooth, a little too warm for your liking.

maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, but… truly, there’s something in her voice you dislike.

she leans slightly against the counter, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her attention fully fixed on jungkook. you tilt your head and sit back in your chair a little more. this is interesting.

jungkook offers his usual friendly smile. "one iced americano, and one matcha oat milk latte, please."

the barista starts punching in the order, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "iced, even in this weather? bold choice. i like that."

jungkook laughs softly, the sound filling the quiet space and making you smile unconsciously as you fiddle with the napkin in front of you. you can hear snippets of their conversation from where you sit. the barista's tone shifts just slightly—casual but laced with subtle flirtation.

"so, aside from iced coffee at 8am, do you ever drink coffee at 4pm?" she asks, her eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary. "my shift ends at 4pm. how do you like your coffee then?"

you feel your shoulders tense, a little twist in your stomach forming as you watch. it’s harmless. you know it’s harmless, but something about the way she’s looking at him makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

jungkook, ever the oblivious sweetheart, glances toward you. his gaze softens when your eyes meet. without missing a beat, he grins and says, "with my wife."

the barista falters for a moment, caught off guard. her smile tightens, and she forces a laugh, quickly recovering.

"well, aren’t you… committed. that’s nice to see."

you catch the way jungkook's lips twitch, clearly proud of himself for the quick response. he gives you a little wink, and despite the initial rush of warmth from his words, the insecurity starts to creep in again. you glance away, pretending to be interested in the view outside the window, but you can’t shake the way your stomach churns. it’s a familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over you.

it’s stupid, you think to yourself.

but... why does this bother me?

even if he always says the right things... fuck.

your hand then drifts down to rest on your belly, the growing baby inside serving as a constant reminder of the changes you’ve been going through. the swelling, the mood swings, the way your clothes don’t fit the same anymore—it’s all there. it bubbles just under the surface. seeing someone so effortlessly pretty and carefree—someone who hasn’t been carrying another human for months—playfully flirting with your husband only magnifies that feeling.

jungkook pays, grabs the drinks, and walks over to you, placing one in front of you as he takes a seat.

"got your favorite," he says, flashing you that same smile that always melts your heart.

you force a smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

"thanks, honey."

he narrows his eyes slightly, reading you like a book.

"everything okay?"

"yeah, i’m fine," you reply, taking a sip from your cup, hoping it hides the tiny lie. the weight of your feelings lingers, leaving a heaviness in the air that jungkook can sense, even if he doesn’t fully understand.

for now, he lets it slide, though you know him well enough to recognize that he’s not going to leave it alone for long.

the spa day is as luxurious and blissful as you imagined it to be. 

you tried your best not to let your waves of jealousy and insecurity get in the way of experiencing this with jungkook… but it’s a lot easier said than done. 

you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious the entire time. you couldn’t help but notice the longing gazes the staff had as jungkook walked by your side… it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

… like, yes! he’s handsome. 

but he’s also mine? so close your eyes. 

aside from that, you and jungkook had a great time with the massages and truly felt relaxed. it was so nice to spend time with him like this… which is why a part of you immediately feels guilty when he helps you get dressed at the end of the session. 

“honey, you okay?” jungkook says, as he helps zip up your jacket. 

you look at him, trying to blink the thin layer of your teary eyes. “y-yeah.”

he blinks at you. 

“is your body feeling okay? was the massage too much—w-what’s going on? why are you about to cry?”

“no,” you step closer, your arms slowly sliding around his neck and draw him in. your fingers lace gently at the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft strands of his hair. “it was perfect. thank you so much for bringing me here, honey. i love you.” 

“i love you too.”

instinctively, jungkook leans into you, your forehead almost touching. his gaze softens, and there's a tenderness in the way you hold him. he loves this. it’s like you’re grounding yourself in his presence. even though he knows you’re withholding some truth, he’ll take this for now. 

“you sure?” he attempts once more. 

“mhm,” you nod, making an effort to lighten your tone. “let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

dinner was lovely. 

it was the kind that left your heart and stomach feeling equally full. jungkook had made you laugh so much, telling stories and cracking little jokes that slowly but surely melted away the weird mood from earlier. you’d almost forgotten about the lingering unease as his laughter filled the cozy cabin, a warmth settling between the two of you. 

now, as you both lounged comfortably in the soft glow of the fire, jungkook’s playful grin returned.

“you know,” he said, nudging your knee, “we’ve got that hot tub just waiting for us.” his eyes sparkled mischievously. "let's take advantage of it."

you tighten your lips.

"come on," jungkook grins, tugging gently at your hand. "the hot tub’s waiting for us. you know you want to."

you hesitate, glancing out toward the balcony where steam rises into the cool evening air. the idea of sinking into the hot water sounds tempting, but the lingering weight of your jealousy from earlier makes you feel uneasy. you haven't said anything about it yet, but it sits at the back of your mind. 

jungkook’s eyes search yours, his expression softening as he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“you deserve to relax, honey. this whole weekend is for you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "let's enjoy it."

you want to tell him. 

you want to explain the knot in your chest, the little twist of insecurity that made you feel silly. but instead, you just smile—small and tight—because he's right. this trip is supposed to be about unwinding, about feeling good again, and you can’t bring yourself to ruin the mood.

“okay,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “let’s do it.”

jungkook’s face lights up instantly, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. 

“love you, mama.” he pulls you in for a quick kiss, his excitement infectious as he heads toward the balcony to get the tub ready.

the outdoor hot tub and sauna sit on the edge of the property, steam rising into the chilly air. as you stand at the edge of the hot tub, you strip down your robe. jungkook, who has been sitting in the hot tub mentally preparing himself for you—is more than delighted to watch you lower yourself into the bubbling water. 

jungkook looks up from the water with soft, adoring eyes. his expression is completely relaxed yet focused, entirely captivated by you. the steam rises around him, but it’s the warmth in his gaze that stands out the most. a kind of quiet affection that radiates with every glance. his lips are slightly parted, and though he says nothing, the way his gaze clings to you speaks volumes. he's utterly consumed by you. every detail of your presence pulling him deeper into that gentle obsession. (gentle… yeah right). his tattooed arm rests casually on the edge of the hot tub, but even with his laid-back posture, there's an intensity in the way he watches you. 

truly, you're the only thing in the world that matters to him. 

offering him a small smile, you finally sink into the water and sit. jungkook moves from his spot to in front of you. he opens his arms and you let out a giggle as he wraps himself around you. you can’t help but giggle… you aren’t blind. 

jungkook comes to you—wet, tatted, and toned. 

as his arms envelop you, the warmth of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine. you can’t help but admire the way the water glistens on his skin and how hot and bothered his tattoo sleeve is making you. for a second, jungkook pulls away to smirk at you… when he does so, it ignites a flutter in your stomach. you find yourself lost in the depths of his eyes. 

you’re convinced that the glint in them can heal your soul. 

in this intimate space, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in your own little bubble. you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he pulls you closer, a reminder of the love you share, a bond that only grows stronger in moments like this. the steam swirls around you, but it’s the connection between your souls that truly warms your heart, making you more and more aware that this is where you belong—right in the center of his gaze.

"this was a good idea," you breathe. “i needed this."

jungkook kisses the top of your head before he moves and slips in beside you. his arm naturally rests around your shoulders. 

“anything for you, mama,” he whispers, breath visible in the cool air. he tilts his head, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. you smile as he does so, feeling like you could melt. “i’m so happy you’re happy.”

you laugh softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "you make me happy.”

jungkook’s face lights up. 

it’s moments like these where he feels his heart is lifted. there’s nothing better than hearing you say shit like that. it’s so simple but it wholeheartedly gives him the will to live.

jungkook’s hand drifts to your belly. 

“i miss zion.” 

you laugh. “even though he’s your number 1 hater?” 

jungkook scoffs at you. though what you said is true, he refuses to accept it. 

“he’s gonna have to learn to love us equally… or at least, need me a little more,” he sighs. “to be honest… i’m kind of worried about when you go into labour and the entire new shift in our family. don’t get me wrong—i think zion is a great kid. as unbias as i can be, he truly is kind. he’s curious and understanding at the same time. he’s funny and sociable… but i’m concerned that if he isn’t into me right now and he’s been awfully clingy with you… w-well, i’m not sure how we’re gonna navigate through that. our baby is going to need you and i want to protect your peace of mind and recovery… but i also want to be an accessible father to zion and leave enough time and things for myself. i d-don’t know if i’m making any sense but—”

you nod, listening to him. everything he mentioned makes sense to you. you feel the same way and have also worried about how zion will be as a brother. he’s completely capable of it and he has shown excitement regarding your pregnancy—but it’s different when it happens.

“i feel the same way,” you admit, taking your hand and resting it on his cheek. “everything is so new and there’s so much more than just welcoming a new baby… all your feelings are okay and i appreciate you being able and willing to talk about them even when they don’t make sense to you. see, when you do and say things like this—it eases me. we’re not going to get everything right. we’re going to mess up and there will be times where our priorities rearrange and the adjustment sucks… but we’ve been through worse and made it through. this is our life together, honey. we’re going to make it work. we’re going to be okay.” 

jungkook takes your words in. 

they give him a rush of comfort and feels instantly better. there’s no other way of describing the kind of relief you give him.

he believes in you so much. 

you reach over and kiss him. he kisses you back, happily and deeply. when you pull away he lets out a sigh of relief.

“in other news… yoongi and his new girlfriend? don’t they remind you of us?” jungkook begins. “like when we were dating and how dramatic we were about always being together? she lives two cities away and he’s constantly driving back and forth.”

you laugh, recalling all the lovestruck texts yoongi sent you. not too long ago, he asked for anniversary date ideas and it made you feel funny. with his past girlfriends, he never bothered to ask for help or even get his friends involved. he was usually quiet about them… but with this new one, he’s on blast. 

you and jungkook met yoongi’s girlfriend a few months ago. just before the wedding actually. she was really warm and brought a brighter part of yoongi out. you’ve never seen that side of him. he would glow while she smiled. it was decided then and there that she would be invited to your wedding.

“yoongi is falling in love again," you say with a laugh. "maybe a little fast but it’s also really nice to see him passionate about someone… and he’s grown.”

jungkook chuckles, nodding. "yeah, he’s head over heels this time."

you pause, then casually add, “she’s really pretty and kind… so i understand why he’s lovestruck.”

the silence that follows is enough for jungkook to realize there’s more on your mind. you glance over at him before finally asking, “she’s pretty right?”

“i’m married.”

“you’re allowed to think other women are pretty… l-like the barista from this morning. she was pretty, right?” you repeat. 

jungkook’s eyes slightly widen. his body stiffens, not expecting the shift. 

“i think you think she’s pretty.”

you bite your inner cheek. “because she was pretty—”

“no.”

“it’s okay,” you attempt to sound cool. “you can admit it. i won’t be mad—”

“i think my wife is pretty. the prettiest.”

“she was pretty—”

he shrugs, eyes beginning to panic. “honey, i couldn’t tell ya—“

“jungkook,” you groan. “be serious—“

“i am,” jungkook lets out a harsh scoff. “are you?”

you feel a little sick. 

not because of the pregnancy but because you know you’ve provoked him. suddenly, his gaze lowers and the unbothered expression he had on a second ago is long gone. 

“___, my love—my wife… you know you’re carrying my child, right? not only have you carried my first, second, and now third—holy shit. i don’t mean to sound so angry right now, but if what you’re insinuating is that i haven’t fucked you deep enough to feel the love i have for you then—fuck. we have an issue here. i am angry.”

you heart stops the moment he mentions your second pregnancy. “no. that’s not what i—“

“tell me now,” jungkook demands. “have i not kissed every inch of your body enough for you to understand how in love i am with it? with you? have i or have i not, huh? or should i fuck you right now so i can prove shit? fuck, ___. am i not a grown-ass man that falls at the feet of his wife—no. don’t look away. i want you to fucking look at me when i’m talking to you.” 

you tighten your lips and look up at him. for a moment, you look down and away. he caught your look and pulled you back into reality. his reality. 

the atmosphere shifts. 

“are you okay?” he asks for the nth time today. “are we okay?”

jungkook chases for your eyes. you look at him and feel overwhelmed. you can’t help it. before you know it, tears stream down your face. 

“i d-don’t know,” your voice shakes. “i don’t mean to pick a fight. i don’t know why i’m so insecure right now—i just… i didn't mean to be so sulky the entire day. please, jungkook... i love you and appreciate everything you've done for this babymoon... and i know that the barista flirting with you this morning was nothing. i know it was nothing. girls have hit on you way more than that but i think because i’m pregnant and she was so pretty—”

you let out a sob. “i know you love me and there are more important things in our life than to be crying over stupid shit like this… but i can’t help it. w-why do you have to be so handsome?” 

you hit his bare chest and he moves back, pretending like it hurt. pouting, you cross your arms at him.

“a-and you can’t blame me. you always flirt with me and get me all hot and bothered but haven’t actually fucked me in 2 months. 2 months, jungkook! what the fuck! this is literally your fault. i look and act like this because of your fucking cum—”

“oh my god,” he hisses. “honey, do you know how hard it’s been for me to not rip your clothes off? do you have any idea how i feel when i touch you and all you do is glow? as much as this makes me sound like a pathetic loser—i’m scared to. if i fuck you while you’re pregnant, i’m literally going to cumbust. i’m going to fall in love with you even more. i don’t know if i can handle that—can you? god, do you know how much this all means to me? you think it’s just me being inside you again—which, fuck, i miss that too—but to me it’s so much more. i can’t even find the words to say how utterly sick my mind gets when i think about us fucking with you pregnant like this.” 

you stare at him blankly.

“you’re pregnant—your body is changing,” he pauses. “... and i’m so grateful for you. for this divine body. you can be insecure all you want and i will do anything and everything to prove them wrong—but the truth is… i’m selfish right now. ___, i love how needy you are. i love how your boobs overflow in my hands. i love the bump. i love how flush your cheeks are. i love that you can’t bend and i get to do more things for you. i love that you want me more. so fuck. sorry if i don’t give a shit if a young barista hits on me or if yoongi has a girlfriend—i’m captivated by you. i only know you and your beauty. i only want you.”

jungkook has always loved you.

over and over again, he has shown, fought, and waited for you with his love like no other. to be frank, it feels like every day there is a new reason for him to love you. 

when you became pregnant with zion, he didn’t know how to function. he was genuinely mindblown and breathless from how much he loved you. then, as you two went through your second pregnancy and continue to heal together from the circumstances, he thinks; this must be it. 

because there is no way he could love you any more than this. 

… but he does. 

there’s something about seeing you pregnant that makes him fall even harder. seeing you in this light—happier and safe… it strikes him differently. the feeling plunges right into his heart and fills it with more admiration and appreciation for you. 

you see, it’s in the little things. 

how you absentmindedly rub your belly when you talk about the baby, or the way your eyes soften when you feel a kick. he’s in awe of how strong you are, how you’ve adapted to every change with grace, even when it’s tough.

watching you carry his child, seeing the way your love has grown to make room for this new life, has only deepened his devotion. to him, you’ve never looked more beautiful, more radiant—more divine.

the steam swirls around you and jungkook. 

instead of saying more, he leans closer. his eyes lock with yours and you gulp. he brushes a damp strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin. 

it feels like he’s taking forever to kiss you. 

he looks at you needy and desperate. leaning in, he tilts his head and closes in on you. time stops when his lips met yours. he kisses you with such demand.

opening your mouth ever so slightly, you allow him in. he deepens the kiss, melting away any lingering tension. he pulls you closer, his abs touching your bump. jungkook moans into the kiss and you smile. then, he slides his hands around your waist and his fingers play with the hem of your bikini bottom. you let out a gasp when he pinches your ass. he pulls away from the kiss and laughs, before placing a kiss on your shoulder. 

then, he lifts his face and kisses you again. pulling away once again, you giggle as his fingers tug down your bottoms. 

“need you.”

you scrunch your nose at him.

it’s so strange to you because pregnancy isn’t that glamorous. you aren’t blind and jungkook doesn’t exactly do much to wipe the drool that dribbles down his mouth when he sees you paddle like a penguin… but seriously? the hot tub?

“in the hot tub?”

“in the hot tub?” he mocks you. 

you squirm as he successfully takes your bottoms off. he smirks as he tosses them to the side. jungkook then squats and lifts you to switch positions. as he sits, he settles you on top of him. he bites his bottom lip as he concentrates on taking his shorts off. 

"come on," he whines. "it's sexy."

“im pregnant,” you remind him. “i don’t know if i can—”

“you can,” jungkook assures you. “you will.” 

just like that, you fold.

you trust him. 

when he takes his shorts off, he helps you get more comfortable. as you sink into his cock, you plant both of your hands on his shoulders. you wince as you hump and grind on him. 

he feels so big. 

jungkook playfully pouts. “what’s wrong, mama? you were crying about not having me inside you—now that i am, what? what is it? too big?”

you nod as you come down. 

“should’ve prepped.” 

jungkook’s pout turns into a mischievous smile.

“why? this is for me. i like that you’re so sensitive. don’t you? you feel it, right? you’re so tight, mama. can feel you clenching. your fucking pussy has grip… and look at you. fucking yourself onto me like a good girl cos you love this fat cock so much. you love this.”

you nod, feeling his length in your guts. “yes, daddy. love this cock so much. thank you for my baby.”

he inhales sharply before wrapping his arms around you. jungkook rips off your bikini top and stuffs his face into your breasts. he kisses them, taking his time to lick and suck your nipples. when he pulls away, he brings his hands to them. 

he squeezes them tightly and watches the way your flesh spills in between his fingers. your breasts got so fucking big—he loves them. 

“god bless these breasts,” he hums. “you like that, mama? you like it when i play with your tits like this?” 

slap.

“say thank you to me,” he insists. “with my fucking cum, your tits wouldn’t be this delicious.”

you ride him slower. 

“thank you, daddy.”

slap. 

“again. say it like you mean it.” 

you moan as he smacks them once more. 

“thank you, daddy—oh,” you pant as he twists your nipple. he looks at you, mouth slightly opened and eyes darted at you. “t-thank you for my tits. thank you for cumming inside me and always stuffing me full. you’re so big and i’m so thankful. thank you, thank you, thank you—mmfphh—”

jungkook pulls your hair, tilting you back.

he shoves his face back to your tits before licking his way up to your neck. you feel him throb inside you and suddenly think that the jets and led lights in this hot tub add to the tension. it feels so good. 

pleasure is an understatement.

the way jungkook fits inside you is incredible.

it’s near indescribable actually. you must have saved an entire nation in your past life to deserve dick this good. you ride the high, feeling the tightness in your stomach knot more and more. then, finally, jungkook tells you to get off. 

as you do so, he lets go of your hair and takes you by the waist. he bends you over. you plant your hands on the edge of the hot tub as he hisses, smacks your ass, and shoves himself back inside your pussy. 

he fucks you, making sure to have a handful of your boobs as he does so.

it’s what he deserves.

jungkook bites your shoulders as you moan. cheek to cheek, you both begin to pant. he digs himself deeper and deeper, you swear the curves of his dick have engraved themselves into your pussy. 

“f-fuck yeah, mama—t-that’s it,” jungkook murmurs into your ear. “my dirty fucking slut. so needy and bratty when you’re pregnant. you’re my fucking princess.”

“n-not a princess—”

“you are though,” he breathes our sharply. “my babymama… god, i love you. i love this fucking cunt so much. i’m sorry i haven’t been fucking it. practically fucking self sabatoge… didn’t wanna obsess over you even more—f-fuck. you feel so good. i was a fool. i’m sorry, mama. i’m s-so fucking—nghh—”

jungkook slams himself into you harder and harder. the water splashes and the sounds of the hot tub jets are put into second place. you whimper and moan, matching his pace. he feels like he’ll lose his mind soon. 

you sound so pretty.

you are so pretty.

right then and there, jungkook reaches for your clit. he rubs on it, elevating your pleasure. 

"my pretty mama."

"oh my god—"

jungkook lets out a big exhale. “mhmm. feel good, mama? you like the way i touch you? so fucking pretty. the prettiest. f-fuck, ___... daddy’s got you.” 

he lets you enjoy for a few more seconds before bringing his wet hands to cup your cheeks. he tilts your face up and squishes your lips together. he kisses you before moving back to your neck. there, he nibbles on your skin to leave marks. 

“i love you,” he pants. “i love you, mama.”

“i love you too, daddy.”

what bliss. 

jungkook cums first and feeling the way his cum shoots inside you finishes you off. you cum seconds after and reach for kisses. jungkook lowers his face and kisses you. against your lips, he murmurs;

“10 minute break. can we have sex inside for round 2?”

the babymoon turned out to be everything you needed and more after you and jungkook talked (fucked) through your feelings. truth is, all you can really recall is cumming so much you were afraid your water was going to break. for the past 2 months where you two didn’t fuck—he’s made up for it.

once the air was cleared, any lingering tension melted away, and the rest of the trip was filled with small, intimate moments that made you both fall deeper into this new chapter of your lives. there was that one morning when jungkook woke up early, made breakfast, and brought it to bed with the most endearing, sheepish grin. 

“thought we could start the day off cozy,” he said, climbing back into bed beside you. his warmth immediately soothing. you spent that morning feeding each other bites of fruit between soft kisses, the world outside feeling distant and irrelevant.

every night, you two facetimed zion. watching his bright little face light up the screen as he excitedly told you about his adventures with his grandparents. 

“look, daddy, i made a painting for mommy!” he shouted, showing off a messy splash of colors that had you both smiling. 

of course it was a painting for mommy. 

jungkook asked for his and zion said; “i don’t know. maybe baby will make you one.”

during those quiet nights—heads close together, watching zion through the phone or lying side by side, soaking in the peacefulness—you realized just how "married" you felt. this trip wasn’t just a getaway; it was a reminder of the life you were building together, the love that had deepened through every challenge.

as the sun began to set on the last day of your babymoon, the golden light streaming through the windows bathed the cabin in a warm glow. you and jungkook had spent the afternoon doing nothing in particular—just enjoying each other’s company. lounging in comfortable silence, sharing lazy conversations, and occasionally stealing soft kisses.

“hard to believe it’s almost over,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back as you rested against him. you hummed in agreement, feeling completely at ease as if all the worries and stresses from before had melted away during your stay.

“i could stay here forever,” you replied with a soft smile, half-joking but meaning it more than you’d care to admit. “but i miss zion and the mom guilt is hitting so hard right now.”

jungkook chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“do you think he misses me?”

you laugh and then cover your mouth. “did you get funnier or something?”

“haha,” jungkook rolls his eyes. “i really fucking hope this baby likes me more.”

you laugh again, sinking further into him. you rest your hand over your belly. your eyes widen when you feel a kick, you grab jungkook’s hand and place it on top of the spot. 

“i think baby will.” you say softly. "hey, we can talk about baby names on our way home! i’m excited.” 

and just like that, the babymoon comes to a quiet, contented end. nothing dramatic or grand—just the two of you, basking in the love and peace that had surrounded you for the past 10 days. 

as jungkook drives, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the car windows. jungkook hums to a the music playing. the gentle melody soon turns into him singing softly, his voice filling the car with a soothing warmth.

your hand rested on your belly, and almost as if on cue, you felt a tiny kick. the baby reacts to his singing, little movements following the rhythm. you laugh quietly, placing your other hand over his. "someone’s already a fan of your voice," you said, glancing at him.

he grins, continuing to sing as he squeezes your hand. "oh? i guess i’m the favourite. in your face, mama," he jokes. “finally…” but there’s a hint of emotion in his eyes. as though the simple act of singing to your baby makes everything feel even more real.

you laugh and gaze out the window. 

"yeah. baby likes your voice," you reply, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“you okay?” jungkook asks. “what’s with that look? what’s on your mind, honey?”

"i was just thinking... about names."

jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? got any ideas?"

you hesitate for a moment, then the name just slips out. 

"zia,” you reveal. “what do you think of zia? i saw it a few times online and in the baby name book… i called her zia once last week and she kicked. the name itself connects to light, family, and brilliance… radiance."

he repeated it under his breath, testing it out. 

"baby zia… i like it." jungkook smiles warmly, taking your hand and kissing it.

you smile back, feeling a sudden surge of love for both jungkook and the tiny life you were bringing into the world.

the name feels right, like it had been waiting for you all along. you can’t wait to get home and share the news with everyone. you can’t wait to go home together, hug and kiss zion, and fall asleep next to your husband.

everything has fallen into place and life is truly so beautiful.

[lesservillain]

baby daddy!eddie x mom!reader

cw: smut, non established relationship, best friend!eddie as well, idiots in love

wc: 3.8k

Closing the door as gently as he could, Eddie tip toed down the hall of the trailer and rounded into the kitchen to get himself a beer. He’d played hard enough with Autumn that she could barely keep her eyes open through her bath, but that also meant he wore himself out in the process. So after cracking open a can, he plops his ass down and turns on the TV, ready to chill until he passes out on the couch.

Well, that was the plan. Just as he got comfortable, there was a small knock on the trailer door. With a frustrated sigh, Eddie jumps back up, mumbling something about people coming to his house so late at night.

“Listen, I’ve told you all I don’t fucking deal anymore—Woah!”

Instead of some annoying kids looking for weed, Eddie was met with your sniffling nose and tear stained cheeks. He immediately went into best friend mode, wrapping you in a big hug and letting you get those emotions out.

After some crying and a soaked shoulder later, you finally peel yourself away from Eddie and attempted to talk, but only babbling came out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie says, thumbs rubbing the tops of your shoulders. “Just calm down and tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to compose yourself.

“He-he-he g-got mar-married,” you hiccup out.

Eddie blinks at you. He knows exactly what you were talking about. Dustin told him back when that Harrington met a girl about 6 months ago and apparently they hit it off right away. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about her considering your long time pining for him Especially considering he’s the reason Harrington would never ask you out. But you ended up finding out on your own, and devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

It seemed soon in Eddie’s opinion, granted he would marry you tomorrow if you would say yes. When Dustin told him that he was going to be the best man that the wedding, Eddie had mixed feelings. He knew that it would kill you when you found out. That you’d react exactly as you were now.

Actually, you’re doing a little better than he anticipated.

“He came into the store and,” you blew your nose into the toilet paper he grabbed for you, “and I saw the ring on his finger when he was getting his money out of his wallet.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“They haven’t even known each other that long! He’s such an idiot…”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Eddie jokes, rolling his eyes.

“Oh god, what if--do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”

Eddie’s pretty sure Dustin would have told him if that was the reason why, but it’s not an unreasonable guess.

“I don’t know, could be? Or maybe Steve Harrington is just an idiot like you said. And maybe they’ll be divorced by this time next year. Who knows, right?”

You sighed, leaning into Eddie and resting your head against him. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was never going to ask me out anyway. No one wants a young single mom. Steve has his whole life to do what he wants, why would he be with someone who has so much baggage?”

“Hey, don’t say that about Audy,” Eddie scolds.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” you correct, “I was talking about myself. I’d never be with someone who didn’t accept Autumn. Even Steve Harrington. I just…I’m damaged goods, Eddie.”

Eddie could feel himself getting upset but didn’t want to make things worse right now, so he took a few breathes to steady himself. He said your name sternly, pulling your full attention to him.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. It makes me feel like it’s my fault--”

“Eddie,” you stop him before he can get another word out, “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve told you before that if I was going to get pregnant right out of high school with anyone that I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you.”

Eddie knows this, and he feels the same. But it’s not what he wants.

Even though it was all a total accident, he hoped that night the two of you spent together was going to be the next step for both of you. And even though he was scared after you told him with tears in your eyes then that he had gotten you pregnant, he wished with all his might that it would bring the two of you closer together.

Which it did in a way. Obviously the two of you would be bound together for the rest of your lives, but it wasn’t in the way he wanted. You still were head over heels for Steve, and there was no way Eddie could even compare to the king.

“Yeah…I know.” He says somberly. Your brows pinch, making him worried he should have said something else.

Then your expression changed. You looked at him intensely for a moment, before your eyes became lidded and…were you leaning in?

Eddie thought fast, making a quick decision to put his hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes go wide as dinner plates, tears perching on your waterline as what hot embarrassment washes over you.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, suddenly regretting everything. This could have been his chance and he was an idiot.

You pull his hand from his mouth, sitting in silence for a moment before you begin to laugh. It catches Eddie off guard and he freezes.

“Eddie, I should be the one apologizing,” you say with giggles. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to try and kiss her best friend for a second time. We both know what happened the first time and the last thing we need is history to repeat itself.”

Eddie still felt conflicted. Your tone wasn’t sitting right with him, like there was some level of self depreciation in your words.

After a moment you stop laughing. Your face warps into worry as you stand from the couch.

“I-I need to go—“

“No, wait!” Eddie stands to grab your wrist before you could run away. He pulls you into him and hugs you tightly to him. You stand still before slowly wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.

“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot emotionally right now, but…I’m here for whatever you need. Even if…” He trails off for a moment, knowing that he’s just going to hurt himself if he lets you use him. But he can’t turn you away when you need him. He’d rather you take advantage of his feelings than run off to someone else who would hook up with you without second thought.

“Even if it means crossing a boundary that we’ve already crossed before.”

Eddie feels you press into him harder, face buried in his chest. And when you look up at him, Eddie thinks he could melt into a puddle and let you mold him to however you’d like.

“I don’t think I should make any rash decisions right now,” you say with a sniffle. “I think I just need to clear my head. Let myself rot in my own misery instead of dumping it all on you.”

“Or,” Eddie says with a smile, “you could rot with me. I rented some movies and some beers in the fridge that have your name on them. I think we have some leftover pizza still, too.”

Your smile was so bright it was comparable to the sun rising. There was nothing in the world that could keep him down as long as you were happy. Eddie probably would have dropped out of school after his second failure if you hadn’t simply smiled at him and told him that he would graduate next year, for sure. He probably only did because you smiled at him every time he got a good grade.

The way you hugged him for a long time after a report card with no F’s on it kept Eddie’s head in the zone that last school year. And, well, the way your body felt under his when he finally graduated…

Eddie shook his head, wracking his brain for anything to keep his mind from thinking about that night right now. There’s no way him getting a boner while you were still holding on to him so tight would be good.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” you finally say after staring up at him for several beats. But Eddie caught the somber look in your eyes. It was going to take a lot of distracting to get you in a good head space.

“You know, I think we might still have some popcorn, too.”

After a few drinks, some weed, and a movie and a half later, Eddie finds himself waking up on his couch at some point after falling asleep. The bright, staticy screen causes him to squint his eyes, turning his head enough to bump his chin against the top of your head.

Eddie looks down at where you’re leaning into his side. He vaguely remembers wrapping an arm around you before the two of you had succumbed to sleep. It pains him to possibly wake you but the urge to pee is what startled him awake in the first place, so he does his best to untangle himself from you and sneaks to the bathroom.

On the way back to the couch, Eddie decided to stop in his room and grab a blanket for the two of you. But when he returns, he finds you sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hey,” you croak out, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers back. “I brought us a blanket.”

You stretch before standing up from the couch. “I should probably head home, Eddie.”

“Sweetheart its,” he leans to check the time on the microwave, “3 in the morning.”

Your eyes go wide, hands running over your face. “It is? Fuuuuck.”

“Just stay,” Eddie says, walking over to you and wrapping you up in the blanket. You groan, feeling conflicted on if you should stay and sleep on Eddie’s couch or if you should brave the drive home.

“Hey, if you stay, you don’t have to drive all the way over here to get Fae in the morning.”

“Ugh, okay you got me,” you say, giving in. You sit back down on the couch and start to make yourself comfortable.

“Wait, you can sleep in my bed. Promise I don’t bite.”

That took less convincing as you pop back up, dragging the blankets behind you as you wobble to Eddie’s room. Eddie laughs as you plop into his bed, stealing one of his pillows to make yourself comfortable.

“Hey save some room for me,” he says, walking around to the other side to climb in. He lays next to you, adjusting in an obnoxious manner that has you giggling. You turn to face him and he does the same.

“I love you,” you say at the tail end of a giggle. It’s something said frequently between the two of you. Genuine as it’s spoken after years of friendship.

“Love you, too,” Eddie says with a sigh. Sleep soon takes you both over again. The only sounds that can be heard is the sound of the a/c doing its best to cool down the trailer.

Eddie felt himself waking once again, this time much more comfortably in his own bed. He yawned, shaking a bit as the feeling of waking overcame his body.

The sun peaking through the cracks of his curtains gave the room just enough light that he could see the room with a slight glow. Turning his head, he chanced to see if you were still laying with him. He had a dream that you’d left with Autumn and ran away with Steve that left a sick feeling in his stomach.

Much to his delight you were indeed still occupying the bed with him. Smiling wide as you looked at him, already awake where you lay.

“Mornin’,” he says in his morning voice, and your eyes flicker.

“Morning,” you squeak back. As Eddie turns to face you, your hand finds its way out from under the covers and reaches out towards him. Your fingers gently glide across his cheek, rubbing against the stubble as you push his hair out of his face.

The way you’re looking at him has Eddie’s tummy feeling funny, but in a different way from his dream. You’re looking at him the same way he looks at you.

Suddenly, you push yourself up on your arm, hand still on his cheek as you start to lean in once again. Eddie’s heart beats hard against his chest as you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It lasts a few moments, and Eddie melts into it. It was a kiss like none he’s ever had before. Not even compared to the last time the two of you kissed before Autumn was born. This kiss felt like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, the warmth spreading to every part of his body as he drank you in.

When you pulled away, Eddie chased after you, not wanting it to end so soon unknowing if it would ever happen again. When you don’t kiss him again, his eyes finally open to meet yours. They’re bouncing everywhere, scanning his face as if looking for an answer written on his skin.

“Eddie…”

But Eddie doesn’t let you ponder much longer, hand snaking around your head to pull you into him once more. This time more feverishly, the heat palpable between the two of you.

You shift so that you can bury your hands in his hair, and Eddie takes advantage of this to move himself above you. Eddie kisses you into the pillow beneath you, long kisses turning into passionate smacking, poking the fire that was burning between you.

“Tell me to stop,” Eddie says as his lips begin to move down your cheek and to your neck. He says your name breathily, “Tell me now, because I won't be able to stop once this starts.”

“I-I can’t. I won’t,” you stutter, hands grabbing at his waist as he kisses and nips at your neck. Eddie breathes against you, body alight knowing that you wanted this as much as him.

“But,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. You give him a coy smile, nodding towards the door. “You better make it quick. You know she’ll wake up at any moment.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Better get to work then.”

Eddie suddenly lifts the blanket above the both of you and disappears underneath it. Soft kisses leave a trail from your knees to the apex between them. Eddie slips his fingers in the hem of the sleep pants he let you borrow, pulling them down with your panties in one quick motion. There was barely any light to see, so he decided to just dive in tongue first.

He ate you out like a man starved. Your thighs try hard to wrap around him as he works you up on his tongue, but his strong arms hold you open for him. Eddie groans at the way your fingers grip his hair, tugging just enough to burn so good against his scalp.

Once he added fingers, you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. It was like Eddie knew exactly what you liked, because not long after you were coming undone, riding his face as you did.

Eddie crawls up your body, head resting between your breasts as he pokes out from under the covers.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you pant, looking at him in awe.

“And that’s not even the best part,” he teases, making you roll your eyes at him. You grab his face and bring him closer to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him again.

Eddie rolls his hips subconsciously, and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds against you. You want to say you also forgot how big he was, but it’s something you didn’t want to admit you thought about often.

Your hand travels between you, fingers trailing against his skin as you reach the hem of his boxers. Slipping under it, you feel your way to his hard cock, taking it in your hand to pump him. He whines against your lips, hips moving faster in your grip. You watch with awe struck eyes as his beautiful face contorts in pleasure above you.

“Please,” he pants out as he fucks your hand, “Wanna be inside you. Can I?”

You nod silently, unbelievably turned on by your best friend for the second time now.

He works fast pulling his boxers off quickly, a loud thwaping coming from his cock smacking against his stomach after getting caught on the waistband. Your eyes go wide as you take in his size.

After almost 2 years you’re still shocked at what Eddie Munson is packing. Those dumb ass cheerleaders that picked the bone head jocks over him have no idea what they missed out on.

Eddie settled himself between your legs, spitting on his own cock to get it good and wet before rubbing it in your soaked folds. You had a moment of clarity, realizing that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words got caught up in a moan as Eddie pushed his way inside of you.

The stretch took your breath away. Eddie seesawed his way into your tight cunt, opening you up on his cock until he was balls deep inside of you. He placed his hands on either hip and started moving, holding you tight as he worked up his pace.

Every thrust felt like too much and not enough at the same time. The constant knocking against your sweet spot had you seeing stars quickly, still worked up from him eating you out. The pretty sounds that Eddie was making wasn’t helping either, but you still had enough mind to shush him so that he wouldn’t wake your daughter.

Eddie’s pace quickens, and he makes the fatal mistake of adding his thumb to the mix. It only throttles you to the edge for a second time this morning. It’s not much longer before your vision goes white, toes curling as your orgasm takes over. It's probably the hardest you’ve cum in a long time.

“Oh, fuck.”

You barely registered Eddie’s words, but you definitely felt the reason behind his curses. Eddie was cumming deep inside you, balls emptying into your pussy as you were still riding out your own orgasm.

In the moment it felt amazing, but the post orgasm bliss left you crashing as you realized the very real situation you were both in.

Eddie felt himself being pushed by you, taking him out of his own high as he stumbled back on his ass. As you open your mouth to speak, Eddie is hit with a wave of deja vu with every word.

“Did you fucking cum in me?” The words came out in slow motion and Eddie’s body broke out in cold sweat.

“I-I’m sorry. I was going to pull out, I just—“

“What? You forgot? Are you kidding me Eddie? Do you not remember what happened the last time?”

Right on cue, your daughter's whines could be heard from across the hall. You sigh, kicking the covers completely away from you and grabbing the pajama pants you had back on.

“Listen, I really am sorry,” Eddie says, looking at you with big, sad eyes. You groan, unable to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that.

“What are we going to do then, Eddie?” You ask him, walking out of his bedroom to get your daughter.

Eddie sits on the bed for a moment and thinks. He knows that you getting pregnant again while Autumn’s only and a half isn't ideal. Not that you being pregnant is ideal anyway, but honestly Eddie wouldn’t be mad about it.

He was so head over heels for both you and Autumn that he doesn’t hate the idea of another person to love is the worst thing. But he’s also not the one doing all the hard work. And if it wasn’t obvious the first time that having a kid wouldn’t fix any problems, then having a second would probably not make much of a difference in your feelings towards him.

The door opens again and Eddie watches as you enter with a squealing toddler on your hip, clearly happy to see both mommy and daddy.

“Morning, sweet girl,” Eddie cooes, scooping his baby up and smothering her with kisses, sending Autumn into a fit of giggles.

“I went ahead and changed her. If you want to dress her I’ll make breakfast.”

Eddie gave you a quick salute as you went to the kitchen, leaving him and your mini me to get ready for the day. It took a lot of wrestling but he was able to get the little one dressed, including hair done, and looking presentable for the day.

Fixing her up in her highchair, Eddie sat at the small kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. You shook your head at his theatrics, setting breakfast down for the both of them.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said, spooning some applesauce into Autumn’s mouth. “After we eat, why don’t I follow you to the pharmacy and we can pick you up a Plan B?”

You quirk an eyebrow in amusement. “You have Plan B money this time?”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughs dryly at your reference to the last time you had sex, the both of you freaking out over having no money. Thankfully Eddie was able to get a good job at Hawkins Auto Body when you got pregnant. He makes pretty good money now considering he was able to get his own trailer. Money is still tight, but he can manage.

“Fine, better eat up then, or else you’re gonna have two mouths to feed instead of one.”

Eddie looks at your daughter, spitting image of him, besides your nose, and smiles. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but…maybe one day.

[maskedbyghost]

When the Walls Fall (p. 2)

Summary: Simon’s never been great at dealing with feelings, especially when they come out of nowhere. From the moment he laid eyes on you, something shifted, but he did his best to keep it under wraps. It’s only when Price steps in, playing a little bit of matchmaker, that Simon’s forced to face what he’s been ignoring. Between the awkward tension, the attraction, and a little help from the Captain, maybe they’ll both figure out what’s been right in front of them all along. Word count: 2.6 k PART 1

The next few days were unbearable. The awkwardness between you and Simon only grew, and you were convinced that he hated you even more now—probably thought you were weird for waking up on his chest.

Maybe he saw it as some kind of desperate move, like you were clinging to him on purpose. The thought made you sick with embarrassment. You kept your distance, spoke only when necessary, and ignored the sinking feeling in your chest every time he avoided looking at you.

But Simon—he was struggling too. More than he’d ever admit.

Having you so close had done something to him. It cracked something open inside him, something he wasn’t ready to face. He had spent his entire life believing he was incapable of love, that whatever part of a person made them crave closeness, connection, warmth—he had lost it a long time ago. But the first time he saw you, all of that had started to unravel.

And why wouldn’t he fall for you? You were perfect. Your smile, your eyes, the way you carried yourself—every little thing about you had burrowed into his mind, refusing to leave.

But none of it mattered.

Because no matter what he felt, you deserved better. Someone normal. Someone whole. Not a man like him, built from scars and silence, who barely knew how to be a person, let alone a lover.

So he had to get over this. Had to shut it down before it consumed him.

He had to stay away from you.

But even as he repeated that to himself like a mantra, even as he forced himself to keep his distance, he couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. The ones where he let himself imagine a different life—one where he didn’t have to push you away.

He pictured it too easily: you and him, sharing a home, waking up tangled in each other’s arms, whispering tired good mornings. He imagined lazy Sundays, your laughter in his kitchen, your warmth pressed against him on a cold night. He imagined a future where he wasn’t just surviving—but living. With you.

And then—your voice cut through the haze of his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing you had said something to him. He had no idea what.

Great. Just another reason for you to think he was an idiot.

Focus, Simon.

Meanwhile, you were just waiting for this mission to end. Every passing day only made it clearer—he couldn’t wait to go back and forget you existed. And that hurt more than you wanted to admit. A small, foolish part of you had hoped that this time together would change things. That maybe, just maybe, he’d see you differently—that you’d prove yourself, and he’d finally warm up to you. Maybe even call you a friend.

But the longer this went on, the more impossible that seemed.

If anything, it felt like he hated you more than ever.

-

The day dragged on longer than it should. You had settled into your position, crouched low in the grass, eyes fixed on the target compound through the scope. Everything felt impossibly quiet. You could hear your own heartbeat, the rustle of the wind in the trees, the distant hum of the world moving on around you.

Simon, ever the professional, remained still beside you. He wasn’t just watching the compound; he was watching everything. Every slight movement, every shift in the environment was noted, processed, and cataloged by his mind. You’d grown used to this—his intensity, the way he was always a step ahead in the game. But it also meant you didn’t get many chances to look at him.

Today, however, the stillness gave you more space than usual. And before you could stop yourself, your eyes flickered over to him.

His broad shoulders were tense beneath the fabric of his gear, every muscle coiled with the strength that made him the kind of soldier he was. You found yourself noticing for the past few days, the way the light caught in his hair, the streaks of deep brown with the slightest hint of auburn, the way his jawline was chiseled, and—wait, no.

You blinked hard, forcing your gaze to snap back to the compound. No. Stop it. This wasn’t like you. Don’t be stupid.

You hadn’t meant to look, hadn’t meant to notice how those strong hands worked the rifle, how his gaze would occasionally flicker to the distance with that contemplative expression. The kind of look that made you think he was constantly calculating every outcome, every possibility. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes—Wait, what? No, no, no.

Get it together, you’re being ridiculous.

Simon maybe didn’t hate you, but he certainly didn’t like you. At least not in the way that you were starting to think about him, and you couldn’t afford to entertain any thoughts like that. He was your lieutenant. He was your superior, distant, professional. You were just the one in the trenches with him, doing your job. You couldn’t afford to cross any boundaries.

Stop thinking about his eyes, you told yourself, shaking the thought away.

He was an attractive man, undeniably. You’d been forced to admit that in the safe house, when the mask came off. At first, you’d only been able to look away, embarrassed by the very idea of noticing how good-looking he was without his mask. And when you really started to think about it, his scars weren’t a flaw. They weren’t something to be hidden. They were part of him, marking the battles he’d fought, the sacrifices he’d made. The thought made you pause.

But you couldn’t keep doing this. Get a grip. This wasn’t a damn romance novel.

You swallowed and turned your attention back to the compound, forcing yourself to focus. As much as your mind kept drifting to him, you couldn’t let it distract you.

“Do you see anything?” you asked, the words slipping out more to break the silence than anything else.

“No. Nothing yet,” Simon replied, his voice low, as he briefly glanced in your direction. He didn’t seem to notice the way your pulse quickened, or how you tried to steady your breath. He was too focused.

And so the day dragged on like that. Silent. Uneventful. The quiet between you was suffocating yet again.

Later that night, as the shadows of the evening stretched across the small room where you were staying, you went about preparing for bed. You pulled on fresh pajamas, a soft, worn-out shirt and loose pants, feeling the fabric settle comfortably against your skin. When you walked in and faced Simon, his eyes met yours before you could look away.

For a split second, you thought you saw something in his gaze—something more than just his usual distance. He was staring at you in a way that made your stomach twist. You couldn’t place it, but there was a certain softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that wasn’t there before. You didn’t know how to process it in the moment.

Stop it. He was your lieutenant. He wasn’t supposed to look at you like that.

In Simon’s head, however, things were far more complicated. He’d been trying to ignore the nagging thoughts that had been creeping into his mind for days, but they were growing harder and harder to push away. When you walked in, in your soft pajamas, he couldn’t help but be taken back. You looked so soft. So cuddly. And that thought made him want to die.

He never should’ve allowed himself to think about you like that. You were part of the team—his team. And there were rules. Lines. He couldn’t cross them. But damn, it was hard when you made it so easy to imagine pulling you close, letting the warmth of your body against his chase away the chill of the night.

His mind stopped working for a moment, the words failing him. It wasn’t just your appearance that caught him off guard. It was how safe you made him feel—something he hadn’t realized he needed until you were here, close to him, yet still so far out of reach.

He felt like a damn fool.

You lay down, your back to him, your voice soft as you muttered a quiet, “Goodnight.”

A grunt from him was all you got in response.

Simon stared at the ceiling, his body rigid, the blanket bunched up in his hands. He knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not tonight. Not while you were so close once again. Not while the temptation to reach out, to pull you into his arms, was so powerful that it made his chest ache.

He wanted to. He wanted to close the distance, wrap you up in his arms, let you rest against him. But no. He couldn’t. He wasn’t brave enough to do that. He wasn’t brave enough to admit how much he wanted to hold you, to have you close.

So he stayed still, his thoughts a mix of want and regret, as the night stretched on in silence.

-

The next night, the air was crisp as you made your way back to the safe house, the long trek from the observation point stretching your already exhausted limbs. Your feet felt heavy as you trudged through the muddy terrain, the cold biting into your skin. You'd been up for hours, and it was only a matter of time before fatigue set in completely.

The path back to the safe house was narrow and winding, overgrown with brush and rocks that made every step more challenging than the last. You cursed under your breath as you stumbled on an uneven patch of ground, your foot slipping from under you.

Before you could even react, you were tumbling, arms flailing as you fell to the ground with a harsh thud.

A sharp gasp of pain shot through your side as you skidded to a stop.

“Shit!” You cursed, trying to push yourself up, but the sharp pain radiated from your wrist, and your vision blurred for a moment. You gritted your teeth, breathing through the discomfort as you tried to sit up, but it wasn’t easy.

You were still trying to collect your bearings when you heard heavy footsteps approaching. You barely had time to turn before Simon was there, kneeling in front of you, his gloved hands gripping your shoulders.

“Are you alright?” His voice was tight, almost breathless as he quickly scanned you for any obvious injuries.

You blinked, disoriented by the sudden proximity, the way he was staring at you with wide eyes. You hadn’t seen him so visibly shaken before. He was usually so calm and controlled.

But right now, his gaze was intense, almost panicked, as he crouched down in front of you, his breath uneven.

“I—I'm fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him as you winced and gently held your wrist, still feeling the sharp ache. You didn’t want him to worry, even if your mind was still foggy from the fall.

Simon’s eyes flicked to your wrist, his hand shooting out before you could even react. He gently cupped your injured arm, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin as he inspected the damage, his face drawn with concern.

His touch was careful, like you were fragile, like you might break. But then, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. His thumb brushed lightly over the skin of your wrist, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.

You stared at him, your breath catching. The way his fingers held your arm, how he hesitated for that split second—there was something different about it. It wasn’t just concern; it was like he was almost... reluctant to let go.

He seemed to realize it, pulling his hand back abruptly, as if shaken by the brief moment of closeness. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he seemed to struggle with what to do next.

“Don’t move. You need to rest for a minute,” Simon ordered, his voice rough, eyes darting over your face before locking onto your wrist again. Without waiting for a response, he carefully picked you up, cradling you against his chest before you could protest, lifting you with surprising ease despite the weight of your gear.

You felt the tension in his arms as he held you, but it wasn’t the usual steady, strong grip. There was a tremor in his hold, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with you now that you were hurt. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning over you again as if searching for any other signs of injury.

"Simon, it's fine," you said, trying to calm him, confused by his reaction. You could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours, the rhythm of his breathing erratic as he carried you back toward the safe house.

But he was still visibly shaken, almost desperate to get you there faster, his pace quickening. "No. You’re hurt. I... I…" His voice was low but sharp, betraying the panic he was trying to suppress. "Hold on. We're almost there."

You blinked up at him, bewildered. "I’m fine, Simon. Really."

But he didn’t seem to hear you. His face was tense, his features softening only slightly as his gaze flickered over your face.

When you reached the safe house, Simon gently set you down, his hands never leaving you entirely. He looked over you once more, making sure you were steady on your feet before he took a step back, his eyes still intense, his body still wired with concern.

He exhaled, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed through his hair. You watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" His voice was softer now as he looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if he should back away or keep close. He wasn’t used to feeling this out of control.

You nodded slowly, taking a careful step forward, trying to steady yourself. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

Simon studied you closely, his eyes flicking to your wrist once more, his fingers twitching like he wanted to check it but wasn’t sure if he should. He looked frustrated with himself, like he couldn’t make sense of the situation.

"I shouldn’t have let you walk ahead like that. I—" He cut himself off, running a hand over his face. You had never seen him like this. His normally calm, calculated demeanor was cracked, the worry and helplessness in his eyes clear.

A beat passed, and you both stood there, feeling the awkwardness between you. He wasn’t looking at you the same way, as if he were still processing everything that had happened. You could see it now—the barely contained concern, the way his eyes darted over your every move like he couldn’t shake the images of you falling, of you getting hurt.

“Simon,” you murmured, your voice soft. “I’m okay. Really.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes still holding a hint of that tension, but something softer now too. It was like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then—without a word—he turned and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the silence.

You stood there, staring at the door for a long moment, heart still pounding, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

What the fuck just happened?

PART 3

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

@daydreamerwoah @nightunite @rigbyscar @kittygonap @buggg4life @tessakate @m-artemisa-c @first-time-fanfic-writer @identity2212 @trulovekay @lostintransist

[pineconepie]

This was an Octavian commission! It was meant to be only 500 words, but I got a little carried away ^^;

TW: Vampire feeding, blood, parental yandere

Usually, when Octavian would put you to bed, you didn't want to fight with him on it. After all, it seemed only respectful, given the fact he's so graciously welcomed you into his home without expecting any payment or favor in return. Sure, he can be a little odd at some times, but you figured that was simply part of his nature.

One night, however, you stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You're exhausted after a long day of work and moving about Octavian's large house as though it is your own, yet you cannot get your mind to settle down enough to rest.

You decide grabbing a quick snack from the kitchen couldn't hurt. Octavian had insisted that this house was yours to go wherever you please, as long as it isn't outside. So, it wouldn't matter too much if you were to eat something and head back to bed. You quietly open your bedroom door and walk down the stairs, careful not to trip.

The kitchen is dark and empty. You rummage through the cabinets, looking for some of the cookies Octavian had made for you not too long ago, when you hear a cry of pain.

It startles you. You jolt slightly, looking around. It didn't sound like Octavian, it sounded like someone outside...

Is someone hurt?

You leave the cookies on the counter and grab one of the nearby lanterns and a kitchen knife just in case, before quickly exiting the house. If someone's injured outside, it'd only be right to help them. Your heart hurts to think someone might be in a similar situation as you. And surely, with Octavian being such a kind person, would want you to help them too, right? You make your way through the dense brush behind the house, searching for any sign of movement or human life.

The wails become louder as you get deeper and deeper into the woods, eventually becoming clear enough for you to understand what they're saying.

"Please," cries a voice from somewhere far away. "Please... don't hurt me! I have money, take it! Just don't...!"

"Stop screaming already, you're giving me a headache..."

You freeze at hearing Octavian's familiarly calm tone.

In an opening between the trees, you see Octavian looming over someone. It takes you a second to process exactly what is going on. You first assume he's trying to help the man, that your eyes are surely just playing tricks on you.

Even if you've only known Octavian for a fairly small amount of time, you don't want to believe he'd ever hurt anyone.

Yet, his fangs sink further into the person's neck as the seconds pass. The two are completely unaware of your presence. Octavian's body completely hovers above them, drinking from their bleeding skin.

Their scream of pain dies in their throat.

Octavian pulls away a minute after they've stopped screaming, sighing deeply. "I forgot how much humans bleed..." he mumbles as he wipes at the blood now covering his face, only smearing it even more.

Without thinking, you take a step backwards, leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Octavian turns sharply. His eyes go wide at seeing you standing there with a horrified expression plastered across your features. For a split second, the two of you can do nothing except stare at each other silently. The chill air of night makes goosebumps rise up on your flesh.

"(Y/n)," he breathes out. He slowly stands, hands up in a display of peace. "Please, don't run. It's okay. There is no need to be afraid, I would never hurt you."

"You're a..." You feel a panic attack coming on. Your heart beats hard against your ribcage, lungs straining. "No. Stay back!"

"I know," Octavian says soothingly as he advances toward you. "I know it's all so much right now, but everything is alright." He wipes at his face again with his handkerchief, this time clearing off all traces of blood on his face. "I know you're scared, but think logically, love. If I wanted to hurt you, I've had several opportunities to do so, yes? Yet I never did. You are completely safe here. Safe and cared for..."

He opens his arms to invite you closer, beckoning you into a hug.

But you don't. You take slow steps back. You know you can't run; not only do you have nowhere to go, but even if you did escape, Octavian could catch you easily.

"How many?" you croak. "How many have you killed?"

Octavian hesitates. "Not many at all, I promise you. This... fellow, was a bad person. Harassing all the other townsfolk in the area, always getting drunk and causing trouble... And when I found him wandering too close to our home, well... I just couldn't stand the thought of him coming near you. I refuse another person to hurt anyone I love. Please understand."

Not really having many options, you mutter, "I'm... going back inside. Please don't talk to me." Your voice breaks halfway through.

Before he can reply, you spin around and rush back inside the house without looking back once.

...

As soon as you make it inside, you lock yourself in your room. With tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and adrenaline rushing through your veins, you throw yourself on your bed, burying your face in pillows and blankets as if they'll protect you from reality. You desperately try to steady your breathing while curling up into a ball.

You wish this is all a terrible nightmare. But then again, who could dream something this horrid?

Octavian had always been kind. At least, as far as you knew, he'd always acted as though he had your best interests in mind. To think he lied to you for so long...

The rest of the night, you're unable to fall asleep.

...

When you don't come out of your room the next day, Octavian is now beyond worried.

He knocks on your door. "(Y/n), dear, I brought you lunch... though I suppose it's technically dinner now." There's no response. It only causes his anxiety to grow further. "Love, if I could speak to you about yesterday, I'd like to clear things up..."

Still no answer.

"I'm coming in."

The door is locked, but he manages to unlock it himself. His powers have granted him with enough strength to open it despite the resistance, and though it causes some damage to the locking mechanism, that isn't what worries him most right now. Inside, you're sitting up on your bed, glaring out your window rather than at him.

Wordlessly, he sets down the plate of food on the bedside table for you. When he sees the dried tears on your cheeks, his heart breaks for you.

"What is that?" you ask suspiciously, towards the plate of food. Your voice is still hoarse.

"Just some sandwiches," Octavian replies softly.

"Are you gonna eat me?" you whisper.

Octavian shakes his head. "Oh, my love... my dearest sunshine, no. Of course not." He reaches out and gently places his hand upon yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Never in a million years. Never in eternity would I hurt you, understand? That will never change."

You reluctantly eat, and you have to admit, it's good. You feel tired after eating, but you suppose not having a day of sleep will also do that to you.

"You look exhausted," Octavian sighs. "You haven't slept a bit, have you?"

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact.

"Can I put you to bed?"

After a beat of hesitation, you give a small nod. He smiles gratefully, putting your plate back on the nightstand. With practiced ease, he tucks the blankets around you snugly. His fingers comb through your hair as he presses a kiss against your forehead.

And though you're still upset, the comfort makes you start to drift off regardless. A part of you feels safe. Even though Octavian had hurt someone, he hadn't hurt you. If he wanted to, he had more than enough opportunities to do so.

He hums a soft song. It's quiet, but soothing, coaxing your eyes shut. You nestle yourself closer to him.

"There's no need to be scared of anything, little one," Octavian coos. "I will not let harm come to you, as long as I live. Nothing could stop me from protecting you."

Exhaustion takes over, and you find yourself content in his embrace. For just a moment, you try not to think about everything that has happened. Just for this moment, you allow yourself to forget all the horrors you saw earlier, even if it means cuddling up to the vampire that caused them. You tell yourself you'll deal with everything tomorrow.

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Papa loves you so, so very much."

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Keep it down

Summary : Aizetsu is pressed against his crush in a very crowded bus and can’t help but pop a boner from how close the two of you are. But, luckily for him, you didn’t hate it at all. Disclaimer : AizetsuXFem reader. Modern AU. Public groping and sex.

A/n: I fear I cooked with this one fam <3 This was a fan request from a Patron a few months ago and it is one of my personal favorites. I no longer take requests over on my Patreon as i'd like to consider seriously doing commissions some day, but the tiers over there are still fun and very worth your time. If you enjoy what I do, please consider supporting me! (Link in bio)

Aizetsu didn’t consider himself to be a religious man. But at this moment, a prayer kept repeating in his head:

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look don’t look don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook-

“You okay, Aizi?” you asked, looking up at him with your beautiful eyes, your long eyelashes fluttering as you blinked up at him. He gulped heavily as he forced his eyes to trail up to the ceiling of the bus, focusing in on a random screw and trying to distract himself the best he could.

“Y-Yeah, all good.” He responded, grunting as the space around him got tighter. “I’m sorry about this,” you said, an apologetic expression on your face, “I asked you to come out with me but…I didn’t think the bus would be so crowded today.”

You grimaced as you looked around, huffing as the doors opened in a stop only for more people to shuffle in and for nobody to move out. Aizetsu grunted as he was pushed farther into the bus and towards the opposite side, the only thing separating him from the glass doors being you. His hands reached out and placed themselves against the glass, caging you and keeping you protected from the crowd around him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, trying to ease your nerves and his, “I want to go out with you- I mean- I want to visit this museum too.”

He looked down at you but remembered why he shouldn’t and snapped his eyes up again, hoping his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. Due to your positions, the two of you were pushed against each other- which led to your body pressed flushed against his and if he looked down, he’d see your pretty tits smushed right on his torso. It was torture enough to even feel your soft globes press against him and it took all of his willpower to not get a boner- but if he looked down and saw the peek of cleavage from the bottom of your neckline- there’s no way you wouldn’t feel his dick press against you and he really doesn’t want to do that.

The last thing he wants is for his crush to feel his erection and hate him for being perverted.

“Oh- shit!” you gasped softly, immediately shuffling against him which got Aizetsu to jump.

“Wh-What happened?”

“Nothing- it’s just- my skirt is…” he heard you grunt in frustration, an irritated sigh leaving your hips as you continued to move against him, “My skirts riding up and it can’t…I can’t pull it down!”

“Oh!” Aizetsu gasped, blushing before he cleared his throat, ignoring the few glances people gave him. He tried not to think of what you were looking like, plump ass pressed against the window with your cute miniskirt pushing up. “Yeah- I’m pressed to tight against the window and I can’t- fuck- I’m gonna turn around, ok?”

“Ok-“

But before he could process anything, you started wiggling again, your whole body turning against him and he swore he almost passed out. He trailed his eyes to the ceiling once more and bit his lower lip, groaning in relief when you finally stopped moving, having turned around.

But now there was a new problem.

Your butt was pressed right against his crotch.

And your skirt was still pulled up a bit and he could see the barest hint of a pastel pink lace panty.

His cock throbbed and he prayed that you didn’t feel it through his sweatpants. Fuck- if he knew today would have been like this, he’d have worn something thicker.

“Ok- lemme just…” you brough a hand back and finally tugged your skirt down, your chest pressed against the window a bit as you covered yourself up, “Ah. Much better.”

“H-How much longer?” Aizetsu asked once he took in a deep breath, not sure how much more of this he could handle. Was everybody on Earth busy today?! It sure felt like it considering it didn’t feel like the crowd was decreasing.

“Still another 30 minutes, Aizi.” You told him, once again apologetic, “But I’m alright. Since I have you around!”

Aizetsu blushed at your sincere compliment but his eyes immediately snapped open wide in horror as you started wiggling your hips side to side. You do that something- when you say something purposefully cute, you’d shake your hips a bit and give him your puppy dog eyes- a habit of yours he absolutely loves but at the moment- he loathed.  

“Stop! Stop- stop-“ he couldn’t help but gasp out, quickly using a hand to grab your hip and make you stop moving, “Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” you asked, confused and concerned, “this?”

“Fuck-“ he gasped as you shook your hips against his crotch again, either doing it on purpose to rile him up or innocently questioning him- either way- his dick was hard now. Very obviously hard.

“Shit- Y-you’re-“ he cursed, gritting his teeth as he could literally feel his erection grow with each wiggle but unable to move away thanks to all of the people around- not even as inch of space left.

“What? I’m what?”

 “You-“ Aizetsu hissed, his other hand also coming down to harshly grip your waist and making you freeze in place. Oh fuck. His dick was rock hard in his pants and there was no way you couldn’t feel it.

“Is- is that your…“

“Yes- just- fuck- stop moving!” Aizetsu hissed, his face flushed bright red in embarrassment. God, he wanted the ground to part under him and swallow him just to get out of this situation. Why couldn’t he control himself? Now you were going to think he’s some pervert and not want anything to do with him-

“Did…you get like that because of me?” you whispered to him, making his face flush even more. Oh, he really wanted to die now.

“…Yeah.” He admitted, beyond embarrassed and ashamed, “Sorry- I’m so sorry! I’d move away but…”

He looked around them. There was just no space to move at all. So he was stuck here, cock hard and pressed against the ass of his crush. He was so conflicted with his emotions that he almost missed your response:

“Don’t be sorry. It seems like it’s my fault. Does…it hurt?”

“It’s…” Aizetsu swallowed, wondering why you were questioning him but he could never deny you of anything, “It’s frustrating.”

“But I don’t think it will go down if we’re stuck like this, right?”

“I…yeah…you’re right. Fuck- I’m so sorry.” Aizetsu whined, tears prickling his eyes. This was it. You were going to hate him now for being a pervert and you’d never feel safe around him anymore-

“Don’t apologise. Since its my fault…do you want me to help you?”

Aizetsu blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

What?

But before he could say anything, he gasped as your suddenly pushed your hips back against him, very obviously grinding you butt on him. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, his face burning hot as he watched you move your body.

“What are fuuuuck- oh God- ” he whispered as he leaned towards you, making sure you heard him, “cut that out! You’re only going to- oh fuck- oh-“

“Hmmm, I didn’t think a little rubbing would make you so excited, Aizi.” You teased, having the audacity to grin at him as you moved your hips in a circle, his hard cock balanced between your cheeks, “If I had known, I would have done this way sooner~ Were you always getting hard when I was close to you? What about the times I’ve sat on your lap?”

“Fuck- fuck- what are you doing?!” Aizetsu hissed, his voice low even though he wanted nothing more than to yelp in surprise. You were absolutely grinding yourself back against him, peachy butt rubbing on his clothed member. He bit his lower lip harshly, hands gripping your hips tighter to try and stop you but you were apparently very determined to push your ass against him.

“I told you! I made you hard, right?” you said, licking your lips as you felt his thick, hot rod push between your cheeks, “It only seems fair that I help you make it go away~”

“A-Are you crazy?!” he whisper-screamed in response, his eyes darting around, terrified that someone could be looking at them, “We’re in public!”

“I know~” you responded, a twinkle in your eyes, “doesn’t that make it better?”

“Oh god- ah!”

Aizetsu quickly slapped a hand over his mouth again as you gave him a particularly harsh grind, his eyes widening as he noticed your skirt starting to ride up again. You noticed the movement of his eyes and its target, chuckling at his very obvious desires.

“Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have pulled my skirt down, huh?” you asked, popping your hips a few times and shivering as you felt his hard, hard cock against your butt. Even though it was through layers of clothing, you could still feel how hot his dick was- how needy- how…thick~ You knew of Aizetsu’s little crush on you and while you thought it was cute, you never intended to pursue anything as you were into more dominating guys. Aizetsu could be assertive when he needed to be but always leaned more towards the passive, sad boy side of the spectrum and while you loved him as a friend, you never really thought about having him as a romantic partner.

But seeing the way he was tearing up…the blush on his face…his contorted expression…

You were learning something new about yourself and it felt too good to stop now.

“You wanna see more, Aizi?” you asked, a hand inching back down to the hem of your skirt, thumbing at the fabric, “Want me to grind my panty covered ass on your fat cock?”

“Shit- shut up!” he snapped, moving the hand over his mouth to instead cover yours instead. Your words and your tongue! How sinful! He’d never imagines his best friend to be such a…such a…slut! But he couldn’t like that his cock twitched in his pants at your words.

He gasped as he felt something slimy against his fingers, gliding over his skin, his hand vibrating from your moans- Oh god- you were licking his hand! He bit his lower lip to muffle his own cries, grateful that the train was so packed that nobody could really see you, everyone too engrossed in their phones to notice his mewls and whines.

Your hands were still naughty and eager to tease and before he knew it, he saw you slowly pull your skirt up. His jaw dropped, practically drooling as you exposed your behind, your pastel pink panties clear for his viewing pleasure. It was an adorable colour on you but even better than that was the way it fit you- so perfect against you, it was almost like it was moulded to your skin.

“Mmph- come on, Aizi~” you said, shaking your head out of his saliva covered hand to talk to him, “Enjoy yourself.”

With that, you continued to grind your ass against him while also taking his other hand in yours. His breath got caught in his throat as you lifted that hand up and boldly placed it on your chest. He couldn’t help himself- his body moving faster than his mind- as his fingers instinctively squeezed on your plush tit. He heard you mewl happily, like his touch was satisfying a deep need inside you.

“You’re- fucking crazy!” he hissed out, still hyper conscious of his surrounding but…but…your breast in his hand felt amazing and your ass- only covered by a thin panty- was just heavenly against his cock- he was slowly starting to feel his surroundings melt away and he couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“I know~” you responded, jumping on your heels a bit so he could feel the jiggle of your tit in his hand and your ass on his dick, “and you clearly love it~”

Aizetsu hissed, unable to argue with you as he brought his other hand upto your chest as well, no longer fighting his desires. He was still trying to keep his noises low and if anyone noticed the two of you, they weren’t saying anything so he indulged himself as he shamelessly groped your chest. Covered by your blouse, he could still feel how soft your pretty tits were. Your size was just perfect, fitting wonderfully in his hands as he gave you a few greedy squeezes before he found your nipples. Perking out due to how turned on you were, now it was your turn to muffle your moans as Aizetsu deftly caught your hard buds between his fingers. He pinched at them gently but the friction from your layers of clothing still made your toes curl.

“Shit- if you keep moving like that-“ the man moaned, sharp teeth taking a nibble of your ear and your felt your body shiver at the intimacy, “I’ll cum in my pants!”

“Oh, not yet, Aizi.” You said sternly, “Not until you pull it out for me~”

“P-Pull it out- you don’t mean?”

“Mmhmm~ Do it Aizi? For me?”

Fuck. He knew you knew how weak he was when you said that.

Giving his surrounding one final look to make sure no one was watching and giving your tits one final squeeze, he brought his hands back to his pants. With quick movements and making sure to not push down on his clothes too much- Aizetsu pulled his dick out. His bare cock was out. Exposed completely. In a moving bus full of people.

The things he did for love.

“Oh, wow!” you gasped, turning your head back so you could have a good look at his cock. Of course, your view was limited but you liked what you saw. His cock rested between your cheeks, the position so lewd you wish you had the patience to pull your phone out and take a picture but maybe later. His cock was dripping against you, beads of pre cum pooling on the tip that was sure to stain your panties. Delicious veins ran up and down his thick shaft and while you couldn’t see them, you were sure he had big, breeding balls.

You pushed back against him once again, mewling happily as you felt his bare cock against you. Now this was a man. You gasped as Aizetsu seemed to take control for a second, his hand coming down to grip your ass cheek. You felt the blood rush to your face now as he groped you for a few seconds before he went lower and pushed your legs apart a bit. You were confused but then your suddenly felt something slip between your legs.

Oh. Oh yes.

“Wanna thigh fuck me, you naughty boy?” you asked, gently pushing your legs together so your juicy thighs could squeeeze Aizetsu’s cock. The man whimpered and nodded, his head spinning from the sensation. While he wanted nothing more than to fuck you- he didn’t want his first time to be like this. He wanted to take his time, worship your body and pleasure you back. For now, he’d settle with fucking the thighs he had dreams about before. His cock was nestled perfectly, peeking out the other side, pressed flushed against your clothed cunt and he could feel how wet you were for him.

He wasn’t going to last long.

As the bus ride continued and more people shuffled in, the two of you were lost in your own world. The two of you were pressed tighter than ever against the door, your breasts squished against the glass, all the more restricted as Aizetsu was pressed flush against you from behind. The stuffy space was made even more suffocating (in a good way this time) thanks to the pure lust you were feeling. Your needy boy was whimpering against your ear, little pleas and begs leaving his sweet mouth as he meekly thrust his hips against yours. He didn’t have much room to work with but he enjoyed himself nonetheless, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit each time he pumped forward.

It felt delectable fucking your thighs, sliding against your panty that he wished he could rip off, a pussy who was getting wetter with every thrust. Fuck the museum. Once you reached your destination, he is going to drag you to the nearest love hotel and give you the pounding you deserve for teasing him so much.

“Fuck- wait- I’m gonna cum-“ Aizetsu whimpered, eyebrows furrowed as he felt his balls twitch, “I can’t- not here- I’ll make a mess-“

“Hmmm…” you pondered, “People will definitely notice if you cum all over the bus…so I guess your only option is to cum inside me, right?”

“What?!”

You grinned back at him, Aizetsu watching with wide eyes and bated breath as you reached behind and suddenly pulled your panties to the side. He almost choked on his own saliva once your pussy was revealed to him, but due to you two being positioned to tightly against each other- he couldn’t see her. Oh, but he could feel her. He could feel your sopping wet pussy against his bare cock, the heat of your body making his eyes roll to the back of his head. Your slick immediately started to coat him as his dick slid between your folds, no longer separated by the thin layer of fabric and it felt more amazing than anything he could have ever imagined.

But before he could process anything- you reached down between your legs, gently grabbed his dick in your soft hands, and pressed his tip against your entrance.

“W-Wait- I don’t-“ Aizetsu whined, knees trembling from the sensation, “I don’t want our first time- to be- ah- like this!”

“Awww. Then just put the tip in, Aizi.” You suggested, eagerly shaking your hips but waiting for him to give you the ok, “It’s not sex if it’s just the tip. Just put it in and cum. Use me. Use my pussy like a cum bucket~”

Aizetsu quickly did as he was told, knowing that your words were enough to push him off the edge. He pushed the tip of his cock inside you just as he started to cum- his whole body trembling from pleasure. His balls clenched with each pump, unloading his seed inside your greedy pussy. It was just the tip and then some but your cunt, wrapping around him was enough to make his vision go blurry. He could only imagine how good you’d feel once he’s balls deep inside you.

You opened your mouth in a silent moan, your eyes glazed over as your felt your best friend fill you up, use your pussy like it was a paper napkin- just something to cum inside of so as to not make a mess. You couldn’t wait to really get pounded by this thick, hard cock but for now, you simply enjoyed your creampie.

After a minute or so, the two of you were still attached together, Aizetsu’s cock still inside you, plugging up the cum in your cunt. But unfortunately, you had to break up the sweet, intimate moment.

“…Aizi?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Our stop is next.”

~~~~~

[belovedivies]

syndrome ft. thaddeus

cw: minor spoiler, pining.

Thaddeus eluded you.

The same way people did him, honestly.

But then there was you again, and you had just kind of been there; standing by Raphael’s side like a loyal dog since day one. Never frowning, never raising your voice. And he didn’t think he minded it, not really. He liked that your serenity balanced out the semi-man-child whom Thaddeus now called his new boss. You were soft, gentle, benevolent. Maybe only at times. Greeting him whenever he passed by you in the hallway. Laughing at his stupid jokes. Humming a foreign song under your breath that the Apostle didn’t recognize.

One less eggshell to walk on, yet two ticking bombs remained.

He liked your eyes too. Shining, dazzling, so unlike Raphael’s. The redhead only felt that familiar twinge of annoyance when you gazed up at the man you called your little brother with so much love and care. Like you were willing to hang the moon and stars for him. And Thaddeus wasn’t jealous, not really. Raphael was your flesh and blood; it’s only natural that devotion would dig deeper than any shovel or sword could.

But you only had that impenetrable smile on these days. Moving with grace and gold. Keeping your distance. He couldn’t even hold a conversation for longer than one minute before you excused yourself out of the room, not sparing him another glance.

—

Your indifference bothered him.

Made him feel like he was a snot-nosed brat all over again, struggling to survive in that dog-eat-dog shithole he reluctantly called a family. Years ago, when you took the knife out of Raphael’s hands and dug the blade into Father Gabriel’s heart for him, Thaddeus was stuck kicking his legs somewhere far away until his limbs were bent at an inhuman angle, his lungs burning for air. But he pushed through the pain, the tears, the blood early on. He had to become the strongest.

For what, a six-year-old him once pondered.

Sitting by the pond in the garden and swinging his legs in a pair of dojo shoes he had soon outgrown. Martial Arts is about the body and the mind. Integrity, courage, respect. He never intended to frighten others and should have never been considered a weapon of destruction either. But then came the power. The control. The entire continent soon bowed to the King of Kowloon, and Thaddeus was nothing short of elastic.

As much as he hated to admit it, the fight with your little brother knocked some sense into his thick skull. The Apostle didn’t even have time to process his defeat before Raphael wrapped him up in a white body suit that made him look like a goddamn psych ward patient, heavy chains bidding his legs together and keeping him suspended in the air. Thaddeus refused to yield then, gritting his teeth and cursing out strings of profanity that he wasn’t taught before. He fussed, yet Raphael was barely fazed. The punishment didn’t come right away.

It was the days after that.

Days when he was all alone in the base with nothing but his thoughts for company. Thaddeus kept his head hung low and just stared blankly. He felt like a slab of meat. Static noises played on repeat inside his head; and he was okay with that, really. He didn’t want to think anymore.

The hours were so long that he stopped counting. Only then did sleep eventually claim him—a stuffy, dreamless slumber.

—

The redhead didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. But when he woke up, he found himself on the ground; the chains and ridiculous costume miraculously all gone. He was resting his head on something soft too. Thaddeus’ mind tutted its alarm late, but when it did, his body shot up as if struck by lightning and muttered up whatever little strength was left to put some space between him and this unfamiliar presence. Yet the second he attempted to move, his vision started spinning. A stabbing discomfort gnawed on his nape, and Thaddeus realized he was hit with the worst neck pain ever.

He was going to fall at this point. Crashing face-down on the ground like a pathetic loser. The Apostle’s legs wobbled like overcooked noodles as he braced himself for the fall that never came. Instead, he found himself on his back once more, wondering if his body had even moved an inch in the first place.

But there was you, staring down at Thaddeus with a smile.

“Welcome back,” he hadn’t heard any voice in days, much less one as pleasant as yours. The way your hands cradle his face felt like a hug on a winter day. When you shifted, Thaddeus’ stomach did a weird twist.

You didn’t seem to mind him gaping at you like a dead fish, tilting forward with that same mysterious quirk on your lips. Your hair falls around him in soft curtains, blocking the flicking lightbulb ahead that was starting to hurt his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Your fingers weaved through Thaddeus’ hair. And it felt good, so good he thought he could fall asleep again right here, with his head on your lap. The stinging pain at the back of his nape went away almost instantly when the tips of your digits grazed through the spot.

He opened his mouth, trying to get the words out. It’s useless; his throat was so parched. Thaddeus guzzled the bottled water you handed him in less than two seconds, not caring if his whole face was drenched too in the process. He heard a giggle from you, sounding like mist drops on leaf dripping down a pond.

You came here by yourself.

That much he collected when you pat his face dry with a handkerchief, the silver cross embroidery at the edge tickling his jawline. The movement was still nothing but gentle, yet Thaddeus noticed the corner of your smile turning icy. You came alone, but not without purpose.

“What do you want?”

It might be a little too late, but his inquiry came out nonetheless. Thaddeus tried propping himself up with his elbows but soon realized they were shaking.

At the question, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly. Legs tucked under your thighs in a too-expensive dress. Not a single wrinkle or hair out of the place. Unfeeling. Unmoving. Pupils blown wide like a doll’s.

“I came to check up on you!” You sing-song, beaming too bright, too superficial he had to stop himself from cringing outwardly. “Sit up.”

The command barely registered in his weary mind when Thaddeus felt his body moving on its own, and he was sitting face-to-face with you.

The smile you gave him was nothing short of satisfactory. Eyes glinting with mirth. Like he was a puppy and just did something endearing.

“Here,” something warm slipped down his throat; soup? Thaddeus blinked in awe, feeling the herb soothing his deserted taste bud. He hadn’t eaten anything for a whole week, “how does it taste?”

“G-Good.” His response came immediately this time, albeit rasped and still shaky. But you didn’t mind, feeding him another spoonful of dumpling that he eagerly bit into. Thaddeus was left starved, and he was gonna rot here to death if you didn’t come.

You were technically his savior.

And you looked pleased too, letting him have the rest of the bowl until it was empty. Wiping his mouth clean. Guiding him to lie back on your lap. You were warm, so perfect. Thaddeus wondered why he wanted to get away in the first place.

“It will get better,” you hum, running your hands through his hair, “once you move in with us.”

Thaddeus perked up at the last part, meeting your eyes. Your gentle smile remained as your fingers slipped underneath his bangs, resting on his forehead. “Have you thought about what he said?”

He did.

More than he begrudged to relent. Between the endless hours hooked up to the ceiling and nasty bug bites bruising his skin, Thaddeus didn’t have much of a choice. If he somehow walked out of here alive, he would be dragging his feet until the friction scoured the heel of his shoes. Bitter. Humiliated. He didn’t want to be reduced back to the disappointment he was back then.

He needed to be strong.

“Good boy.”

Taking his silence as an answer, you giggled and ruffled his hair. For once, he was sure he had made the right choice.

—

Thaddeus was all over you. In the hallway, in the garden, in between those meetings he rarely ever showed up. Always saying your name with an ear-splitting grin. Always have something to say. A stupid joke to tell.

You never seemed to mind it. You never even liked him to begin with. But he felt comforted when you were there, passing him by like an invisible wall. Thaddeus remembered the way your hands felt on his skin that day. He wondered just what he had to do to have you close again, looking at him like he was precious. Like he meant something.

Raphael was so gonna kill him.

♡dividers credit: @strangergraphics-archive♡ ♡masterlist♡

[mrsshabana]

𝐄𝐱-𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaroxfemale!reader, 18+ MDNI, modern au, Gyutaro is your ex, smut, vaginal sex ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. I've had this idea in my drafts for a super long time so I decided to go ahead and finish it! I hope you all enjoy it and thanks for reading ♡

Gyutaro missed you so goddamn much. The first and only girl he ever fell in love with.

At first, he was angry, but now he's just depressed. Everything reminds him of you. And he feels so incredibly lonely.

You broke up with Gyutaro over a month ago.

Your relationship lasted about 4 months until you just couldn't take it anymore. He was a decent enough boyfriend at first but as time passed it became more and more toxic.

He was controlling and extremely jealous. Getting angry anytime you'd try to hang out with your friends. Especially other men. He never trusted you even though you'd never dare cheat on him, and you never gave him a reason to believe you would.

He'd go through your phone without your permission and get into fights with you anytime you went out with your friends. You loved Gyutaro but it was exhausting dealing with this on a regular basis.

His insecurities got to be too much and he never stopped trying to control you no matter how many times you tried talking to him about it. So you eventually broke it off. Breaking Gyutaro's heart in the process.

Now that he had some time to process the breakup, he realizes what an asshole he's been. His biggest regret is taking you for granted.

You were so good to him, so sweet too. No girl has ever looked at him the way you did. Like he wasn't some ugly freak, or someone to be pitied. No, you made him feel normal. More than normal actually. He genuinely felt loved and attractive even.

Not to mention the sex was good too. God, it was phenomenal. Gyutaro told you he'd delete the videos and photos he had, but he lied. He still watches them on a daily basis. He can't bring himself to get rid of them. He's still so madly in love with you.

The thought of you lying beneath anyone else but him makes him furious. No other man should be able to touch you like he did. Maybe it's selfish, but you're his girl. You always will be in his mind. And he just hopes that you'll give him a second chance because living without you by his side is unbearable.

"Hey... r u free tomorrow?" he nervously texts you for the first time since you've broken up.

You sigh and roll your eyes when he texts you. A part of you misses Gyutaro, but you don't miss how controlling he was. However, you are willing to hear him out so you respond a few minutes later. "Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking maybe we could hang out or something? If u want to."

"Ok, that's fine."

"Cool! There's this new place I wanted to try, I'll send u the address. Meet me around 6."

And just like that Gyutaro successfully asked you out on a date! Well, in his mind it's a date to win you back. But in your mind, it's just a meetup to get closure about your relationship.

When you meet up with Gyutaro at the restaurant, you're suddenly overcome with emotions that you didn't expect yourself to feel. A longing for the man you once loved. You thought you were over him but maybe you were wrong.

"Hey Y/N!" He smiles, masking his inner sadness as he stands and gives you a hug.

A surprised sound leaves your lips when he embraces you. Feeling his arms wrapped around you again feels so familiar. So comforting that you can't help but long for it.

But you know you must resist. Remembering all of the turmoil and emotional pain he's put you through, you know you can't go back to that.

So, after a few seconds you pull away from the hug and give him a cordial smile, "It's good to see you again. How have you been?" You ask as Gyutaro pulls your seat out. How strange... he never did that when you were dating.

"I've been alright," he laughs nervously, obviously lying, "How about you? You look great."

"Thanks," you chuckle, "I've been good. Just focusing on work mostly..."

There's an awkward silence after the chit-chat ends and the waiter takes your orders. Neither of you know what to say. Gyutaro is sweating buckets right now, going through hundreds of scenarios in his head. Wracking his brain for the best things to say so he can win you back. But he can't decide so he just blurts it out.

"Listen Y/N, I want you back," he states with a shaky voice. And as you open your mouth to sternly decline, he quickly cuts you off before you can do so, "I know I was a dick. And I'm so sorry, for everything. I didn't treat you right at all, I realize that now... and I understand if it's too late. I know I'm an idiot for not treating you right the first time. But now that I've been living without you my life feels so empty. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I fucked it up! I fucked up real bad," he tears up, "Every day just feels so fucking cold without you. There's no one else to blame but myself, I know that... but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least try to get you back."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, full of desperation. Like this is his one and only chance at happiness. The regret he feels was evident in how his voice quivered and his eyes filled with tears. There's no doubt in your mind that his words are genuine. But do you really believe he'll keep his word and change? Do you want to take that chance when you've already experienced a toxic relationship with him once?

"Gyutaro..." you say as you look down at the table, avoiding looking into his eyes because the longer you stare into them the closer you come to tears, "I-I don't know what to say."

This is a lot of pressure he's putting on you. But honestly, you should have expected it. You feel stupid for not thinking of this as a possibility when he texted you.

Gyutaro takes a deep breath, "It's alright. Sorry I did all that... you probably think it was pretty pathetic. I didn't mean to make things weird... we can just forget I said anything," he looks defeated as he slumps back in his chair.

"No, it wasn't pathetic at all. I actually really appreciate what you said," you say as you reach out and take his hand, "It means a lot to me that you owned up to your mistakes and apologized. I know it's not easy to do."

His eyes widen as he feels your soft touch, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as you continue to speak.

"I'd love to have you as my boyfriend again, Gyutaro."

"R-Really?!" his face lights up, full of joy just like the first time you agreed to be his girlfriend.

Standing from his seat, he rushes to your side and hugs you tightly before you even get the chance to get out of your chair. Almost knocking you over in the process. He's just so damn excited, he can't help himself.

"I promise I won't make you regret this, Y/N!"

The rest of the evening goes well enough, that after dinner you find yourself in Gyutaro's apartment. Being pounded from behind as he holds you in a spooning position on his bed.

Throughout the whole date at the restaurant, the sexual tension between the two of you was palpable. He's obviously missed fucking you, but you missed it too. You hadn't had sex at all since you had broken up, though you thought about it often. Images of Gyutaro would flash through your head every time you'd touch yourself.

You'd curse yourself for thinking of him, getting annoyed that the memories of you two being intimate wouldn't stop. But you couldn't help but think of him. No one has ever made you feel the way Gyutaro did.

He may have been an asshole at times, but he was amazing in the bedroom. He craved you day and night, and would worship you like a queen. It felt good being so desired by the man you were in love with. Not to mention the toe-curling, bed-wetting orgasms he'd give you too.

Now you lay here in his bed, practically screaming his name as he plunges into you. Fucking you just how he's learned you like it.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he groans as he pushes you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and holding them tightly as he thrusts into you again, "God, you fit like a glove. So perfect for me... it must be meant to be, huh? Don't worry babe, I won't let this pussy go unfilled ever again."

He whispers into your ear as he feels you tighten around him.

As you feel your climax approaching, you realize no one could ever make you feel like Gyutaro makes you feel. With every touch he graces upon your body, you're given another reason why you were meant to be his.

[yandere-sins]

Master Negotiator

I got around to playing the new event, and I remembered how much I love Jing Yuan! Good for me! So I wrote this, please enjoy! :D

Characters: Yandere!Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader Fandom: Honkai Starrail Warnings: Yandere, Mentioning of Captivity, Dub-Con touches and intentions, Negotiating with the captor for the sake of wanting something

"Look at the beautiful flower that graces me with her presence."

Lowering the scroll in his hands, Jing Yuan didn't hesitate to hold out his hand towards you, beckoning you closer as you stood there, anguished by the sight. The way this man could lounge casually, with no worries etched into his face while yours was laid in scorn was yet another testament to the power he had over you. One you wanted to dismiss but had run out of options to do so a long time ago.

He had all the time in this world to hold out his hand while yours seemed to trickle away like sand through the gaps in your fingers.

A smile captured his lips as you placed your palm in Jing Yuan's, his grip tightening greedily in the wake of your acceptance of his invite. His pull wasn't strong, it didn't hurt; but in a swift motion, he had placed you at his side on top of the lounge, back braced against his thigh so you may be comfortable sitting while he brought the back of your hand up to his face, pecking a few, devoted kisses.

"Do you enjoy your new wardrobe?" he asked absentmindedly as he watched his hand fall to your thigh, the high slit of the traditional dress he had you dress up in giving him all the range to run his fingertips along you leg. The underside of your thigh tickled as he left a trace of his featherlight touch from his calloused hands behind, and you straightened your posture and cleared your throat, not wanting to give him the wrong idea that you'd enjoy any of it.

Jing Yuan grinned at your reaction, letting you know he decided to misinterpret it anyway.

"I don't care much for it; the color isn't a favorite of mine."

"True," he mumbled, fascinated with the goosebumps erecting beneath his touch. "Because it is mine."

Lips parting in a boyish grin, like a child that had just opened his birthday present, you barely held back from rolling your eyes. Of course, it was; everything was his. His home, his decision, even you. Swatting at the hand caressing your leg, his thumb brushing up and down your skin gently in a gesture you could only call possessive, you uttered a quick, dismissive, "Yeah, right, well."

The hand didn't move, only stopped for a moment, even as you pried your fingers between your leg and his palm, never breaking eye contact with the man who held you captive for his own amusement. "General, we need to have a talk."

"Ooh," Jing Yuan lilted, but without letting go of your leg, he scooted up on the chaise, sitting properly this time instead of lounging. "We're back at General, that must mean my pretty flower wants something."

"Yes," you admitted, bracing yourself for being dismissed right then and there, even though you'd plead your case if necessary. But Jing Yuan remained silent, listening earnestly, boosting your confidence in the process.

"I want—" you started, taking a deep breath, "—a date."

His hand stopped moving. Time seemed to slow to a halt, an overwhelming silence filling the space between you two. "A date?" he finally said. "Why would you ask for that?"

It was an almost justified rebuttal to your demand. You didn't always have good intentions when you asked him to loosen the leash on you a little and let you roam. You had passed on many chances of trust from him in favor of trying to escape his grip on you, and they all ended badly for both of you—just in different ways.

"I heard the servants talk about a new tea shop, and I want to try it out with you."

"Interesting," was all that Jing Yuan had to say. He leaned back into the pillows, some of the tension you hadn't noticed before fleeing from his body. His thumb resumed caressing your thigh, and you let it, focusing on the matter on hand. He was smiling, but it wasn't very sincere this time. It meant he didn't intend to say 'yes'.

"And then? You're going to throw yourself over a railing again? Scream at the poor waiters of the tea shop to help you? Try to frame me as a villain?"

"You are—"

Catching yourself from hissing out how you really thought about him, you raised your hands pacifyingly instead. You were trying to get something from him, and throwing insults at your captor had never given you what you wanted. "Nevermind. I just wanted to spend some time with you since you were gone a lot as of late. It's okay if you don't want to. It was just a question."

Brushing your hands over the front of your dress, you patted your legs once before giving him a stern nod. "Good night."

It was a strategic move, one Jing Yuan appreciated very much. You saw the amused grin spread over his lips as you got up from your seat, his arm across your legs never moving away. You counted down the seconds, three, two, one, and with a squeak that was almost natural considering you were acting, you were scooped back into his arms and onto his lap, neither your back nor your head hitting the wooden backrest. As if he'd ever let you get hurt on his watch.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, hovering his face over ours. One hand was back to caress your thigh, but the other gently brushed along your nose and cheek, ultimately cupping your face. You thought of the countless answers you had devised when you made this plan, the numerous ways you wanted to answer but couldn't.

"A little," you whispered back, bashfully avoiding your eyes. You've gotten so good at playing him, something Jing Yuan had always told you. You were the only person who could do it—from whom he would allow it. He knew it was just a game, but you knew he enjoyed this more than true defiance—screaming, tears. Last time, you broke one of his table legs, and although the feat was impressive, he had been endlessly annoyed by the attitude you had shown.

This was more to his liking.

"So a little will make you go on a date with me, someone you say you hate more than anything in this world. If I were to stay away for, let's say, a year, what would that earn me?"

"Mhm," you hummed out loud, pretending to think about it. Raising three fingers into the limited space between your faces, you couldn't help but grin at your own charade. "Three dates?"

The jerk in the corner of his mouth was all you needed to see. Jing Yuan smiled a lot, no matter how he felt, but the joke seemed to have come across. "Just three?" he exclaimed in false horror, and you giggled before tucking in two fingers with only your pointer remaining upright.

"And one kiss."

"Now, that's a deal," Jing Yuan proclaimed, leaning forward to plant his lips on your temple before falling back. You let out a bated breath as you two watched each other intensely. The playful part of negotiation had settled, and as much as you hated yourself for pretending a role you never felt comfortable in, you were glad it went well. Things had been rough, and you had your fair share of punishments.

However, the root of the problem was something you weren't even sure Jing Yuan was aware of. As a long-life species, one would think he'd be familiar with the frustration and torture of being bored. Still, he didn't recognize the signs in the captive he claimed to love so much. Perhaps because, when you were with him, fights would ensure and arguments echo through the house. If it weren't the sounds of discontent, there were other activities you two would participate in—willingly or not.

It wasn't good for your health, but it wasn't exactly 'boring'.

"You know I can't take you outside."

It hurt to hear the words of the truth he had always defended himself with. "You are a target in the eyes of every enemy I have—and yourself."

"I understand that," you tried to reason, pulling your gaze away in favor of looking at the intricate details of the ceiling. "But this place is slowly killing me, Jing Yuan."

"How so?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. His hand immediately reached for your wrist, checking your pulls in a not-so-subtle need to reassure himself.

"Every day you are gone, I am all by myself. I can't talk to anyone even if I look out the windows into the busy streets for hours, and the servants won't talk to me out of the fear you have instilled in them. You say you want to protect me, but the isolation is killing me more than any enemy of yours could. Every day is the same. The schedule you created for me is boring, so I won't get into trouble, but the monotony makes me yearn for any change, even the kinds you don't want me to think about."

Letting your head fall to the side, you watched the sternness edged into his face, his rules indisputable. But you had one more trick up your sleeve, the 'master stroke,' as he would say.

"You say you love me, but it's you who's killing me. I could never love a man who treats me as if he hates me, no matter what he says. I'll die never knowing if you meant what you said."

Rarely did the General of the Xianzhou Luofu lose his composure. He seldom showed weakness in front of anyone, especially you. If he let himself get dragged down, he knew you'd seize the chance to escape his power over you.

It made seeing the subtle, barely visible shifts in his expression all the more satisfying.

Worry, anger, realization, disgust, and resolution. The widening of his pupils, the baring of teeth, a brief look of surprise, followed by the dropping of his features almost as if in pain. And then, nothingness. Even if he didn't agree today, he'd think about what you said, hopefully for a long time. Perhaps it would cause him to right his way, although that seemed like a stretch. But you had made your point.

Slowly, with a slight groan, you sat up, looking around the room as if to stall time until he gave you his answer. It had all been show, until it got a tad too real for even your own liking. His hand around your wrist tightened, but you ignored the pressure as best as you could while you locked your eyes on the vase full of white flowers.

"Flowers wilt," you eventually concluded. "Even the beautiful ones."

And with that, you got up, Jing Yuan's hand falling from yours with reluctant defeat. You strode towards the exit, making a grand show of the feeble strength you still had by holding your head high despite having delivered the fatal news of your unhappiness and dismissal of his feelings.

"[Name]," he called out to you before you could reach for the door handle. You turned around, holding your head high as you faced him but keeping your expression as exhausted as possible. With Jing Yuan, you'd not fare well opposing him. Giving in had never been an option. But beating him at his own game? That was the way to go.

"Wear the other dress I bought you tomorrow. Prepare well since we'll spend the whole day in the city. I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of your shoes or jacket."

Annoyance seeped off him, from the way he was tapping his fingers on his thigh to the sharp gaze he shot your way. You approached him warily, the mask almost slipping as excitement threatened to burst out of you. This time, you moved quickly to his side, enveloping the hand he held out towards you graciously with both of yours as you planted yourself next to him on the floor.

Jing Yuan didn't need to say how much he liked the image of your thankfulness. The slight blush and appreciative glint in his eye were more than obvious.

"I take it we're going on a date then?"

You needed to hear it, and you needed him to confirm it. A deal was only a deal when he agreed wholeheartedly; these were the rules he had put in place.

"If my flower wants to go out, then she will. It will cost you this much, though."

Holding up three fingers, you jumped to your feet, leaning forward to give his cheek a big ol' smooch. Months ago, this would have been unthinkable—you showing affection towards him. But now you had new goals, new ambitions. And you needed Jing Yuan to be comfortable more than ever, even if it cost some of your dignity.

"One for now," you muttered, allowing the turning of his head until his lips were yours to capture. There was nothing innocent about the kiss. It was no less brutal and breathtaking in the way he demanded it as if it were a slash of his sword. But there lay sincerity and promise in the gesture, a mutual understanding that this win of yours would be on his terms, as well as a very subtle warning not to get ahead of yourself.

But by the time it was over, Jing Yuan moaned softly against your lips, signaling it was the perfect time to stop and tear away, leaving him wanting more. He'd have it if he kept his word. "And two once you took me on our date," you whispered seductively, your breath caressing his face in a way that was driving him wild. You brushed your thumb over his lips, and Jing Yuan let out a small chuckle.

"I've trained you so well," he muttered. The comment should have made you angry, derogatory and dismissive as it was. As if it hadn't been you who put all the effort into pulling this spiel off just so you could go on a date with him. As if it wasn't you who had to hide her disgust and hatred for this man who was ruining your life.

"I look forward to our date," you replied, not playing into what he wanted for the sake of your plan. If you started arguing now, it would have all been for naught. But all the acting, all the holding back finally paid off as Jing Yuan chuckled, averting his eyes and accepting his defeat for the night.

"I'll see you in the morning then, Master Negotiator."

"Likewise, General."

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 So Long, Quantico.

Prison Reid x Fem!reader

part two

Summary: Your best friend asks you for a favor and you must defend the innocence of the man you were in love with, the same man for whom you left the FBI and moved to another country years ago.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of murder, trauma, death, jail. angst without happy ending. miscommunication. right person, wrong time. reid's time in jail. spoilers for season 13 and all the ones before that. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: First of all I want to thank you for all the support in my first post because the truth is that I didn't expect (if you haven't read it yet, I already have my masterlist). I still can't believe I reached 1000 notes, it makes me very happy.

And secondly, I apologize in advance for this, but I love drama and being a little cliche sometimes. I promise to write a nice, comfortable, less dramatic Spencer story in the future (I hope so) but ttpd is my everything lately.

The constant pounding of your right leg against the table was beginning to make you desperate and to dwarf the room. You didn't know what to do to stop and think for a few seconds, you had even lost count of all the times you had tried to fix your already perfect and ironed clothes that you had spent hours choosing and modeling in front of your hotel mirror.

It felt like hours had passed since you arrived at the prison, though it was probably only a few minutes. Part of you wanted to run out of there and avoid a dangerous reunion at all costs. The other part was anchored to the chair and would not move until you found a way to get Spencer out of there and fulfill the favor Emily had asked of you.

You couldn't let your best friend down, especially when her job could be in jeopardy if Reid was still in prison. You wanted to make sure she was okay, and repay her for all the favors she had done for you during the years you had lived together in London. Without her, you probably would not have survived or become the successful and respected lawyer you were now. She helped you heal when you needed it, now it was your turn to help.

Before you could think, grab your things and maybe even leave the room to catch your breath, a guard abruptly opened the door. Your eyes immediately fell on the handcuffed man the guard had practically thrown into the chair in front of you.

You blinked several times, trying to process that you were actually standing in front of him. He looked so different from the way you remembered him from the occasional picture Prentiss showed you. The years hadn't gone by for nothing, you knew that, but Spencer looked like someone else. It was more than the messy hair, the beard, or the numerous bruises on his face that made you wince. It was that his eyes no longer sparkled, and he himself looked dull.

The guard came out after warning them that they only had fifteen minutes, and the cameras pointed directly at you two.

“Hey.” That was all you could say, biting your inner cheek at how stupid it sounded.

At first he didn't react and hardly seemed to breathe. His expression was like seeing a ghost, and you couldn't blame him after so many years of not hearing from you. You knew you looked different from the last time you saw each other because you had tried too hard to look like someone else. You wore your hair shorter and a different color, even the way you dressed was other. You looked more serious and grown up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked dryly after scanning you with his eyes for a few seconds.

You froze when you heard him speak and his voice, once music to your ears, was like a kick in the stomach.

“I came to help. I thought Emily told you...”

“She told me that she wanted to call you but I told her not to.” Spencer cut you off before you could continue speaking. “That you weren't going to help me.”

You frowned as your brain processed those words.

“Why not? You...you are my friend.” You said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to look away from you because it hurt. You could feel the tension multiply, making it almost impossible to breathe in the small room.

“Friends don't stop talking for six years and pretend the other doesn't exist.”

Oh, that had hurt.

It was true that you had disappeared from his life six years ago, and you had not made the slightest effort to return, even leaving the country with the excuse of looking for a better future. But you had your hidden reasons, you wanted to forget Spencer Reid and your intensely ridiculous and unrequited love.

From the first time you heard him talk about statistics and smile at you like a child, realizing that you listened to him like no one else, you fell madly in love with him for years. Always hoping that one day he would stop thinking of you as his friend and realize how much he deserved to be loved and that you would be happy to do so, that you could give him the whole world without hesitation if he asked you to.

At first you thought he wasn't that interested in love, that he was too smart and focused to lose his mind like you did for him. However, then you saw him several times interested and pining for other girls: the movie actress, JJ, the girl at the bar and Maeve...she was very different and painful for you.

You couldn't stand his strong love for her, at least not being so close to him and having to play the role of the best friend who always listened to him repeat how wonderful she was. Knowing that he could fall in love with someone he didn't even know personally instead of you, whom he saw every day and had known for years, changed you and made you run away to save your heart.

You got a new job far from the United States, thanks to Agent Hotchner and his glowing letter of recommendation. And so you went back to being an ordinary lawyer, no longer chasing serial killers or a boy genius who never loved you as you would have liked.

“Spence, I...” You tried to speak softly, almost having the urge to take his hand to make the situation better, but you didn't. “I'm sorry.”

He was obviously tense, he wouldn't even look you in the eye and you could swear his eyes were a little crystallized. He barely glanced at you for a second before speaking again.

“You don't have to say it if it's not true.”

“It's true.”

You stopped yourself for a second, sighing and centering yourself again.

“But I'm here for the case, to help you with that...and I'm sorry for everything that happened to you.” You said more calmly and with an almost sweet tone.

You both knew it was more than just the prison issue and the current situation. It was a sorry for Maeve's death, Alex, Morgan and Hotch's resignation, his mother's problems, Cat's damn appearance, and most of all for not being there to support him in all.

“You should have called and said so.” He finally responded after letting out a snort and tensing his jaw more.

“Yeah...I should have.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

You thought silence would take over the room again, but instead he spoke again.

“You can go now.”

“I'm not going anywhere unless you're free.” You pointed out with determination.

“You don't have a problem with go before.” He said in the same indifferent tone that was beginning to irritate you.

You should have frozen, kept quiet and focused on the case to get him out of there. But you couldn't do that and act professional when your insides were burning with the memory of the past.

“Don't give me that, you know why I did.” You blurt out, frowning and instinctively pushing the chair away from the table that separates you from him.

“You never said anything to me.” He replied, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking again. “You just disappeared like everyone else I've ever loved because you got bored with me.”

“You know I left for the opposite reason, because I...” You tried to say, but your voice cracked and your hands shook in an awkward attempt to touch his. “I loved you the way that you were and...”

The sudden sound of the door opening made you gasp and immediately shut up. The presence of a grim-faced guard made you realize it was all over, and you pulled your hand away from Spencer's again.

“Time's up.” The guard reported and you signaled him to have at least more minutes.

Fortunately, the guard nodded and gave you only five more minutes. You looked at your client again, trying to get into the professional role and discuss his case, but he seemed to be in another world after your half sentences.

There was no room in Reid's mind for your words, after feeling guilty for so long for not doing enough to be a good friend to you, for scaring you away with his problems, for not being one you wanted to keep over time and return his calls. But now, did you really say what you thought? Did you really love and care for him?

Everything was tearing his word apart in that moment.

“You won't have to see me if you don't want to, but I'll get you out of here soon, Spencer. I swear.” You promised and you could see in his face the surprise at your honest tone.

Maybe he expected a different attitude from you, maybe he thought you were still so obsessed with him that you would insist on seeing him and kill yourself to make him laugh again. But you had matured, or so you thought. You were no longer the young woman who hugged him every time he felt far away and was content to be the one who was left over. Now, you were the brave woman who left the ship before it sank completely.

As you watched the guard check the handcuffs and lift Spencer out of the seat to take him away, something inside you reacted. You called out his name before you could react and quickly had his desperate eyes on you.

“You don't have to worry about the past...I'm over you.” You said confidently before nodding goodbye and walking out with one less burden.

He remained anchored to the ground, trying to process your words with his racing mind as he watched you leave him again.

You...you had been in love with him?

[twstfanblog]

Ok uh, can I request a Silver x reader? Bro you know how he only washes his hair and body with one bar of soap? Yeah, I just want to wash his hair. Bro looks radiant as is but imagine if he actually used shampoo. So yeah, we're washing his hair in the sink or the tub like a child

It's just a soft moment with some feelings realization. Like Silver just gets hit with the truck that is his feelings and is just like "how tf did I not notice this before?!"

Silver doesn't like to be idle but bro is gonna need a minute for this windows crash to process. Meanwhile Yuu has been trying their best not to jump this man from the get go and is currently just trying to figure out what to make for dinner after they're done drying this beautiful mans hair.

There doesn't need to be a confession or anything, just Silver being a walking loading screen is enough lol

Thank you so much!

Hair Care TLC

Silver x Reader

Silver wasn't sure how or why he had fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes to Ramshackle's ceiling, he remembered.

The prefect had found him in the woods with a few of his animal friends, a bottle clutched in their hand as they approached. They had basically pleaded with him to allow them to wash his hair. A notion he had at first turned down, he had washed his hair only a day ago after all.

(He didn't say anything at the pinched expression they gave him).

But, as always, they only needed to ask a few more times for him to yield to their whims. The next day, he was seated in one of Ramshackle's beat-up chairs with his neck craned back to drap his hair into the kitchen sink.

He wasn't expecting much. He had washed his hair before after all...But as his droopy eyes blinked back into the waking world, he realized that was possibly the quickest he had ever fallen asleep.

The prefect gave a single laugh, telling him the second they had started to massage the shampoo along his scalp he had basically passed out ( Not mentioning them panicking for a few seconds when he suddenly went completely laxed in the chair). Only as they had stopped and were rinsing out the fruity-smelling soap did he wake up.

Silver knows he should speak, ease their concern for his well-being or at least apologize for falling asleep on them. Instead, he was suddenly captivated at the vision before him. The sun had started to sink in the sky, the rays now angled in such a way they back lit the prefect in an almost holy light. The perfect backdrop to their gentle smile as they ran warm water over his scalp and carded their fingers through his hair.

It seemed to fully awaken something in him. It was always there he noticed, soft and waiting patiently to spring forward and choke-slam him into the pool of adoration hidden inside him. He wasn't sure if he was blushing as he sat up, staring at the prefect in almost poorly hidden wondering as they spoke.

"You said you never used conditioner before and Vil only got me the shampoo. So...we're gonna just dry it and see how it all turns out!" They smile, managing to figure out the magical handheld dryer as they angle it to Silver's wet hair, "Tell me if it's too hot."

It was mildly worrying that Silver still said nothing, looking at them with a focused stare and only blinking when air blew directly into his eyes.

Before long, his hair was dry, silver strands shinier than ever before. Each lock almost godly in its volume and placement. The prefect couldn't help but be locked in their own silence of affection. Silver was always beautiful, both physically and in personality. And with his hair achieving new form in soft and shiny strands only showed how pretty he was. His aurora eyes staring into their own, reminding them of the cotton candy skies of a meadow from their dreams. They felt their face flushing, the images of Silver laying in that field with them with flowers in his hair filling their mind, "God, you're attractive..."

Seeing Silver's eyes widen, they realize they had said that out loud.

Clearing their throat, they shoved an old hand mirror into Silver's hands. Stammering as they turned away and tried to hide their reddening face with their own hair and hands, "Um. What do you think? Looks nice, right?"

Silver had looked into the mirror for a few seconds, looking back to them with a sudden fierce determination, "Can you do my hair like this for our wedding?"

"O-Our what?"

[bitin-and-barkin]

Loving Someone

What would the healing process be like after your so-called death?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mostly just filler and going into the mind of Arthur, he's so goddamned anxious, paranoid too, tw: talks of suicide, execution, death, and other bad stuff, no smut, mostly just arthur having a mental break, probably out of character, he's starting to go yandere, tw: yandere-esque behaviour

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 3 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 2 here

__________________________

Arthur had lost people before.

When Eliza and Isaac had first died, he was only able to ever see their graves. Already buried, a cross put up. One moment they were there, and the next? 

They were gone. 

When he lost his Pa, he was young. Small and feeble. Sitting in the crowd, silently attending his own father's execution.

His Pa hanged him in front of him.

He wasn't sure how to react when it happened. Whenever someone was hanged there was always someone crying at the stands or nobody there who knew them well enough to weep for them.  

But when he looked at his dad, there wasn't much of a father there to mourn. Just bits and pieces of one.

When his Mama died, he wasn't there to see it. Only the aftermath. Her throat leaking red, and her eyes glossed over.  A certain shade of purple on her neck and face. The sun shone off her blood like something holy was done.  

He was much younger at that time, so he didn't really understand what happened. Death, that is. Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to him. It had always been a part of his life. 

In the wolves howling at night, mauling a buck, leaving its insides on its outsides and in the sunlight to rot. 

In the knobby, motionless, dogs on the side of the streets and in the quiet, grey toned graveyard in town.

So he could tell that something was wrong. He just didn't have a name for it.

He could see it though.

That there was some sort of new emptiness inside of her.

He had always carried that emptiness with him. An unspoken thing, it was the burden he bore.

People had come and gone. As time passed, it grew bigger and bigger. 

And so he filled it with money, and heists, and grand plans and demands from others. 

Alcohol and blood, his own and others among other things.

As he got older whenever he thought back to his mother he wondered if she really birthed a baby boy and not just a hole that would never fill. 

Always wanting more and more.

Always hungry, swallowing everything down. Every complaint and request, finishing them. Handing it to them on a silver platter. 

Never spitting anything out, but always coming back when others' plates are full. 

Nobody ever really said anything. It was convenient. Having a yes man, a loyal one, a Johnny on the spot. 

You had realized this behavior a long time ago. He's always choking on his food but saying he could handle more.

But when you walked in, for once he was full. 

For once he was loved.

And although he wasn't made for intimacy, nothing was able to take that away from him.

During the day he could feel your love underneath his fingernails and in the clothes that you sewed up for him and in the bird songs you'd always stop to listen to.

You were always a constant for him. He loved you like a fire loved its hearth. With enough love to make it home.

You gave him life.

And he knew he didn't deserve his.

He knew he wasn’t a good man. 

There was always a hope that some way the bad inside of him would be able to serve the good inside of you.

And that maybe one day he could make himself worthy of being in love with you. 

He always cared for you in the only way he knew how.

With bruised knuckles and busted lips, 

Slow dancing into the night with you and the blood in his mouth.

Acting and your sweet darling and as your perfect killer and as your rotten soldier. 

Doing it all if it all meant you would still smile at him in the mornings and nights.

Doing it all if it meant you would fill that void inside of him and stop it from swallowing him whole.

You had grown used to it.

He was protective, that was it.

He was the protector. Doing the sinned slaughter that would save the people.

And you couldn't say you didn't appreciate being prized by him.

Prized more than anything else in the world.

But this? This was something entirely new.

You didn't know much about loving others, your life hadn't afforded you it, and neither did Arthur.

But you knew this wasn't what love was supposed to be like.

Acting like a wild animal in a way. Backed into a corner by life itself.

1 week in and Arthur had practically snarled at Sean when he tried to drag him away from your bedside to a job.

2 weeks in and he had bashed a couple of Bill's teeth in for making a joke about you.

Commenting about how your love seemed to be one only made so you could lick each other's wounds.

He called it unsightly. The blood on his face afterwards wasn't too pretty either.

The way he was acting proved his point, though. Like everyone was your enemy and the entire world was too, too much.

He was finding his vices in you.

Only you.

Not in the normal way, the way a woman would look for her wife at the end of the day.

It wasn't in the sex or the looks or the meaningless chatter or even the comforting familiarity.

It was the edges of your fingertips, and in the rasp in your voice.

It seemed to be just you in its entirety.

Like a breath of fresh air.

The point is, a month had passed since you came back. You were healing. Arthur wasn't.

And now you had a problem.

You wanted to get back to jobs. Sure, it was a bit early. There was a odd ache in your arms here and there and when you bent over, you swear there would still be a phantom feeling of blood and Guarma Rum dripping down your back.

It was the O'Driscolls favorite after all.

But mostly, you were healed. Dutch had even cleared you for the smaller jobs. You knew, he knew, everybody in camp knew.

Except Arthur. Except him.

Approachable wasn't the way to describe him.

At least for anybody but you.

He had killed hundreds over the years in the name of Dutch's ideals.

But you were always so soft in his arms despite it all.

You trusted him.

But you're not sure if he trusted you.

With this, in specific. With your life.

You weren't sure how he'd react when you approached.

It was nearing 11 PM when you finally came.

Wolves howling at the moon miles away, people singing and swaying at the campfire after a long day.

Arthur was among them.

You told him you wanted to meet him there, that you needed to finish something up.

In reality you just needed a moment to think of a way to do something impossible.

To convince him that you were okay.

He was sitting there waiting for you.

You quietly walked over.

He was drinking at the campfire, his leg bouncing up and down. Trying to play it cool, but you could see through it. He was getting antsy.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Sitting next to him, he softly smiled the moment he saw you.

A quiet smile, one that only you could fish out of him.

Only you.

Placing his hand on and over yours.

Carving his fingers between yours.

He didn't say anything as he did. It was second nature.

"Arthur."

His eyes flicked towards yours, turning away from the campfire.

"Hm?"

You breathed out.

The smog from the campfire still dancing in the air.

"How are you?"

"I feel fine." He hummed. He seemed satisfied with you by his side.

You smiled.

"Good." He slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

You guys talked for a little bit. About your days, what you did.

It was nothing exciting, but it meant the world to him.

His head was filled with honey. You words lazily coating his brain, sinking him into the ground as everything else faded into background noise.

Just you and him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm going on jobs again."

Now? His thoughts ran silent.

His lips pursed, cutting off his breath. He looked around camp.

It was such a quick difference, like lightning and thunder. A crackle through the air. Nervous electricity still coursing around.

Scanning the area with his eyes for he didn't know what. A reason, maybe.

Everybody was still laughing at little nothings, but it felt like they were jeering at him.

He turned his eyes back to you. He was nervous, that was to be expected. Just tell him you would be fine, and he would be fine too.

Except it wasn't that simple.

"Why?"

You raised your eyebrows at this. He kept talking, never meeting your gaze.

"You don't need to go out, especially not so early after you got back,"

He nervously chuckled.

"I mean, is Dutch really nagging you that much?"

You weren't sure how to tell him you brought it up to Dutch.

Stuttering over his words, he kept talking.

"Do we really need money that much?"

"I heard of this stagecoach up near Flatneck Station, from what I've seen it's always something expensive they're carrying. Could make an easy pretty penny for us, real easy."

"Just yesterday you were tellin' me that your back hurts, and we're still changin' out your bandages every single day."

"You really oughta just stay here. Really."

His head was turned away. He has stopped talking after he kept stumbling over his words. His voice changing into meaningless hums.

Thoughts running through his head like an electrical current. Or maybe more like a bullet in the barrel of a frictionless gun.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

At any other time he would've muttered something sweet but clever or placed his hand back on yours and pulled you forward into his arms.

But now his head shot back like it was an order.

Looking at you, his face was indescribable.

Wild eyed. Ashamed of something.

Afraid even.

You were scared. You were both scared.

Was something more or less scary if you were next to someone who was equally as afraid walking into it?

You couldn't imagine all the bad things that could happen. Having to walk into a town of Raiders and Outlaws.

You weren't fragile.

You were scared, but..

It was like an open wound for you at this point. Painful and gaping, but slowly healing.

You still suffered for it every day, an ache at the back of your head. But you were healing, making good, no great process.

You were talking and walking and had come so far from before.

He had pushed you to stay home while healing, tearing others a new one for trying to even just put you on guard. Looked like he was gonna have a heart attack when you were "straining your back" by just carrying hay.

Looking into his eyes now, there was something new in them. Confusion. Abandonment. Hurt.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

You were moving past it.

You knew he loved you but,

Why did it still seem like the entire world to him?

You brushed your hands against his stock-still face as he stared far past your gaze.

Was he okay?

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything.

There was a certain ringing in his ears as you spoke. More like a flatline than anything.

He was silent. Didn't respond.

But what was he supposed to tell you?

He knew he was overreacting, that he was being dramatic and controlling but he couldn't shake the feeling that...

How was he supposed to tell a knife there was nothing funny about spilling blood?

He didn't see any blood but he could feel himself bleeding.

His grip on his pants tightened. He tried to drag the conversation away, simply saying you guys could talk about it in the morning. That you were both tired. That you could discuss it with a clear head later.

You seemed hesitant at best. You said there was nothing to talk about later. Almost seeming confused.

For 6 months he couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. And so many times he woke up he prayed this day would be the last. So many times he stared at the gun, the knife, the rope. Sitting by your tent waiting for you to show up like old times.

You were going to be fine. You were going to be fine on your own. Weren't you?

Were you?

It was irrational, really. Overdramatic, stupid, a million other labels. Primal, even.

He could not make you understand. He couldn't make anybody else understand what he was feeling whenever he saw you. He couldn't even understand it himself.

What was he supposed to say? That he never could've done anything he did without you? That he'd never forsake you? That he needed you to support him? That you were the only person in his entire life that loved him? That you were his only friend? That he only loved you? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that mattered? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that made sense? That he didn't love himself?

How was he supposed to say he never understood intimacy or lust until he met you? That he had never felt want like how he wanted your skin against his?

Like how he had never felt fear like he did now, now that you were pulling away from him?

What was he supposed to say to you?

It was stupid, only a fool, a real fool would feel like this.

But all his insecurities were swallowing him whole and it felt like you were proving every wrong thing about him right.

You were the dull blade that he twisted inside himself. Keeping a wound from closing but keeping it clogged at the same time.

The only thing stopping his guts from spilling onto the ground.

But his guts were already contained in that cabin where he found your finger, when you first went to that stupid parley, when he cried in Hosea's arms after you left him.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid. It was fear then anger then bared teeth at anybody who approached.

Like a body hitting the ground, like a rat running a maze.

It all had to end eventually. You were gonna leave him eventually.

All alone again, with a dying father and a killing leader and a lucky brother who he hated yet loved.

Alone again.

He knew time had to pass. That his time was long gone, that yours was going down with his soon.

Hand in hand.

So soon.

But why did it have to be so soon?

And why did it have to be you?

He sharply swallowed. He was looking at the floor now. He doesn't remember himself turning his head down.

Dipping down, almost as if to cry.

Your hand was still on his shoulder. You quietly repeated your question.

He silently nodded.

Patting him on the shoulder, you stood and walked away. Telling him to get some sleep.

As you stepped and staggered, he could see a limp in your walk.

He desperately wanted to get up. To tell you something, anything that'd get you to change your mind.

But he was frozen in place. People were still talking and laughing like the world hadn't just collapsed in on him.

Classical music wafted out of Dutch's tent. He turned his gaze to it. It was still lit up, the flaps still open.

He silently stood up and began walking towards it, almost as if in a trance.

You weren't going on any jobs.

You weren't well enough.

He knew that. And he was going to make sure Dutch knew of that too.

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So the results on my last poll were pretty split down the middle, so I'm doing both of them. He'll run away with you soon, dw. Prolly kill Colm while he's at it. Sorry for taking so long, I was buzy🙏 rise and grind brothers

@photo1030

[gs29]

A Surprising Reunion

Squid Game Master list

It had been years since Jun Ho had last seen his older brother, the man he had once looked up to, before everything had shattered. After all the chaos, the secrecy, and the horrors of the Squid Game operation, Jun Ho had believed his brother was gone. He had watched as his brother fell—believed him dead in that cruel, unyielding game. But now, as he sat in the quiet warmth of his home, his two-year-old son babbling happily in the living room, everything was about to change.

The doorbell rang.

Y/n glanced up from the kitchen where she was busy preparing dinner. The clock on the wall read 6:30, and it was a little odd for anyone to be visiting at this hour. She wiped her hands on a towel and moved toward the door, wondering who it could be.

As she opened it, her eyes widened in confusion.

Standing in the doorway was a man she never thought she would see again. He was dressed in black, his posture commanding, but there was no mistaking the familiar, sharp features—the same eyes, the same jawline. It was him.

“Jun Ho…” The voice was low, almost a whisper.

Y/n froze, the blood draining from her face.

Standing before her was none other than the man who had disappeared, the man whose death Jun Ho had never fully accepted.

The Front Man.

Jun Ho’s older brother, In Ho.

Inside the apartment, Jun Ho was in the living room, playing with Joonie. His heart felt lighter than it had in a long time—life was good. His wife, his son, everything felt like it was falling into place, and yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging emptiness that lingered deep inside him. The loss of his brother had created a hole that nothing seemed to fill. Even after everything, even after all the time that had passed, part of him still felt like he was waiting for some sort of closure.

But he hadn’t expected closure to come knocking at his door.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway caught his attention. Y/n’s voice, soft but with a tinge of something strange in it, echoed through the apartment. “Jun Ho…” she called, her tone faltering.

A sudden tension coiled in Jun Ho’s chest. He stood up, his instincts kicking in. He had no idea why, but something about the way she called his name made him uneasy.

Before he could make it to the door, it swung open, and there stood his brother—alive, standing right in front of him, looking exactly the same as he had when they last saw each other, all those years ago.

Jun Ho froze, his heart stopping in his chest. He blinked, feeling like the ground had slipped out from under him.

"In Ho…" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room went silent for a long, agonizing moment. Jun Ho just stared at him, unable to process what he was seeing. His brother was alive. Alive. After everything—the Squid Game, the betrayal, the gunshots—it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real.

In Ho looked at him, his expression unreadable, a faint trace of sadness in his eyes. His lips curved into a small, tired smile, as though the weight of the past still hung heavy on him.

“I’m sorry, Jun Ho,” In Ho finally spoke, his voice surprisingly soft. “I couldn’t let you know I was alive. It… it wasn’t safe for either of us.”

Jun Ho’s breath caught in his throat. "But… but I thought you were dead. I watched you fall… I—" He broke off, his mind racing to catch up with the impossible reality in front of him.

In Ho stepped forward slowly, his eyes never leaving his younger brother’s face. "I know. I wanted to end it, Jun Ho. I wanted to disappear, to make sure the Game died with me. But I couldn't—couldn't leave you with that… that nightmare hanging over you. I had to make sure you were safe. So I let you think I was gone."

Jun Ho swallowed hard, emotions flooding him all at once—relief, anger, confusion. He wanted to reach out, to pull his brother into a hug, to shout at him for leaving him alone in that chaos. But his body froze, unsure of what to do.

Finally, it was Y/n who stepped forward, her voice breaking through the haze. “You…” Her hand trembled as she reached out, staring at him. “You’re really here. You’re really alive.”

In Ho’s gaze softened, a flicker of regret crossing his face. "I should have contacted you. I should have told you. But after everything—everything we went through, I thought it was better this way."

Joonie, who had been quietly observing from the corner, suddenly toddled over to In Ho, his small hands reaching up. He looked up at the unfamiliar face with wide, curious eyes. “Papa?” Joonie asked, his voice innocent and confused.

In Ho looked down at the child, his heart tightening. "No, little one. I'm not your papa," he said, bending down to meet Joonie’s gaze. "But I’m your uncle."

The simple words hung in the air, and a quiet, painful understanding passed between the brothers. In Ho had been gone, had been trapped in his own self-imposed exile, and now he was finally back, but the world had changed. Jun Ho was a father now. There was so much time lost, so much to catch up on.

Jun Ho watched In Ho interact with Joonie, his heart conflicting with the warmth and distance that had developed between them over the years. This was his brother, the same man who had once guided him, who had once shared his dreams—who had once taken a very different path.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jun Ho finally whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I had lost you.”

In Ho looked at him with a somber expression. “I know. I was a coward. I didn’t want to drag you back into that world. I didn’t want to hurt you. I made choices that… I can’t undo. But I’m here now. If you’ll have me back, I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

For a long moment, Jun Ho didn’t speak. His brother had hurt him, had caused him so much pain, and yet… here he was, standing in front of him—alive. And even after everything, even after all the years of uncertainty, a part of Jun Ho’s heart still longed for the connection they had once shared.

Slowly, Jun Ho stepped forward, his breath shaky. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, In Ho," he said, his voice filled with a raw emotion. "I didn't know how to live with the thought that you were gone. But now—now, we can figure this out. Together."

And in that moment, the weight of the past seemed to lift just a little bit. There were still many things to face, many wounds to heal, but for the first time in years, Jun Ho felt like maybe—just maybe—his family could come together again.

Joonie, oblivious to the tension and history that had been tangled between his father and uncle, reached up again, this time pulling at In Ho’s sleeve. “Uncle play?” he asked, his big eyes hopeful.

In Ho’s heart swelled, and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, little one. Let’s play.”

Jun Ho, Y/n, and In Ho—three people who had been separated by the past, but now, perhaps, could begin to heal and rebuild. It was a messy, complicated reunion, but it was theirs. And that, in itself, was enough.

[zae-heeyyy]

Resumption

Summary: You and Arthur revisit the past. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,362 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur

A/n: This is an anon request gone off the rails because I can't write less than 1000 words for some reason 😅. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

P.S I understand and respect Mary, so I hope I did her justice here.

Resumption: The act of starting something again after it has been paused or interrupted. It implies a continuation of an activity, process, or state that was temporarily halted.

Traveling with your found family brought you back to this place you had long tried to forget. All that time ago, you left without much of a choice, pushing you straight into the clutches of the Van Der Linde gang. While the landscape had changed a bit, the people hadn't. Despite you remembering their faces, no one truly recognized yours.

You didn't blame them; you tried hard to forget them all, but being so close to everything again brought painful memories to the surface. This country somberly reminded you of loved ones passed on, desperate acts of survival, and a heartbreak that left you wanting to burn it all to the ground. You thought you could handle a simple supply run, but the longer you stayed in town, the harder you had to fight the affliction coming to a boil within you.

But every time you wanted to flee, the presence of a broad-shouldered, fearless cowboy kept you grounded. Arthur had sensed your uneasiness the second you hit town and made it his mission to protect you. You felt his touch for every minute of your trip, him keeping a hand on the small of your back as you gathered supplies and ordered from the catalog. He only turned his back on you to load the wagon while you hovered nearby.

A stagecoach stopped abruptly at the train station across the road. You didn't think much of it until you caught sight of a woman with child being helped out the side of the coach. She was clad in the fanciest day dress you'd ever seen, and her grandiloquent hat probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. Your body reacted before your mind did, your stomach dropping to the lowest pits of your being and your heart's rhythm multiplying by two.

The memory of her had engrained itself in you, etched deep in your brain. Yet, her role in your past was unclear at the moment, too clouded by the whirlwind of your life for you to put your finger on it. Arthur noticed your forlornness, stopping his task to look between you and the woman now disappearing into the train station.

"You alright? You know her?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but as the carriage drove away, it revealed a man in a dapper suit carrying luggage, his face no older than the day you left. You jolted like someone had doused you in cold water. Arthur came to the rescue, putting a calming, steadying hand on your back, but you were too distracted by the man you almost married once to notice. The phantom from your past blinked slowly with sad eyes, then turned his back and followed the woman inside.

Her identity gelled in your memory finally; she was the high-society woman he left you for. A time ago, your eyes would've shined with tears, but besides the initial shock of seeing ghosts, you felt a whole lot of nothing.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, breaking you from your trance. You were because you knew you'd never have to experience such heartbreak again. You just nodded, wanting to get as far away from this place as possible.

After things settled down for the night, Arthur whisked you away to a hilltop clearing, starting a fire and throwing a relaxed arm around you. He popped open a bottle of whiskey, had a sip, and passed it to you. His uneasy glance felt hot on your cheek, and you knew what was coming.

Scratching his beard, he spoke, unsure of himself, "so, that feller earlier…" His voice trailed off, the courage he had to ask leaving him as quickly as it came. Arthur hadn't pressed the issue of the brief encounter in town, trying hard to give you space. But his insecurity had gotten the best of him. You took a long swig from the glass bottle and shook your head, focusing on the ground.

"Somebody I really cared about once. Not so much anymore."

He didn't respond for a while, searching for the right words; he chuckled then settled on them, "he seemed real polished." You appreciated Arthur's mockery for once, his toothy grin lightening the mood.

"Oh, he is." You paused, eyes still focused down, eyebrows crinkling together. "Back then, I was doing what I could to survive, doing some things I'm not proud of, but he saw me. He saw me for me for me, invited me into his home, and cared for me.

Arthur scooted in closer, squeezing you into him. Talking about the past wasn't something either of you did much of. Yet, here you were, trusting him to carry some of the weight with you. It all left him feeling grateful and undeserving. You continued, "his daddy was a banker, and he follwed in his footsteps. They had money, a lot of it. His folks didn't think I was good enough, and then he made his choice. Found a girl who was more up to his standards, I guess. I loved him, and I thought he loved me. And maybe he did, but not enough."

You exhaled big when it all came out. Arthur laughed dryly, his eyes clouded over and focused off into the distance.

"I know all about that." You passed the whiskey back to him, and he accepted the silent cue, ready for his turn to open up.

"Had a girl that loved me once, Mary." The camp girls had whispered her name here and there, and even Grimshaw had commented that she liked you better than the last one. Many stories were told about her, and you weren't sure which ones were exaggerated for dramatic effect. None of it mattered, though. You trusted Arthur more than you'd ever trusted anybody and loved him enough to not only think of yourself in his rare moment of vulnerability.

"She was a fine woman. I can't bring myself to say anything bad about her, but her family, though…" he drew out a long, low whistle and started talking again. "I couldn't change, and well, maybe she did love me, but it just wasn't enough for us, either."

You took your turn to comfort him now, shifting positions to put your arms around his torso and lay your head on his chest. He hugged you back, resting his chin on your head.

"Didn't think love was for me. Was okay with that for a while. Then.—" vibrations from his chest tickled your ear as he laughed, "then Hosea and Dutch met this spitfire in the saloon and brought her back to camp. Said she was counting cards and scamming drunk fellers out of their money. The girl didn't even own a pair of shoes, but damn, was she sharp as a razor, and gorgeous. After a while, she had me thinking a lot about love again."

All that desperation seemed eons away now. Before Hosea and Dutch came along, you didn't know how you'd survive. Survival was the only thing on your mind; you didn't have time for anything else. Then, you met Arthur and knew it would all be alright again. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at him, grinning because you already knew the answer to the question you were about to ask.

"If that Mary girl came calling, would you go back?"

He grabbed you by the chin and spoke before he pulled your lips to his, "Hush woman. Can't you see I'm trying to be romantic? Yer my woman and yer stuck with me now. Ain't nobody for me, but you."

You kissed him for a long while, feeling his lips curving upwards. You pulled away and saw that all-so-familiar shit-eating grin creeping up on his face.

"What is it now, Arthur Morgan?"

"A banker, really?" he'd asked, his chipped tooth flashing under his lips, "I'm gonna try real hard not to hold that against you."

And then you threw your head back and laughed. Nobody made you laugh as hard as he did. And nobody else’s lips, hands, or body moved so perfectly in sync with yours. You were made for each other; you knew that for certain.