#the fic's almost at its end and i still don't know how to tag it properly

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.” 

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing. 

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.  

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son. 

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby. 

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her. 

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son. 

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child. 

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought. 

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.” 

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek. 

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through. 

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again. 

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought. 

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier? 

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.” 

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain. 

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.” 

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago. 

Dinner was awkward even back then. 

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once. 

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down. 

“She seems sweet.” 

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house. 

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..” 

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house. 

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far. 

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?” 

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.” 

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–” 

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.” 

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek. 

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?” 

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere. 

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does. 

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.” 

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands. 

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom. 

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs. 

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now. 

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost. 

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy. 

He didn’t deserve anything. 

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home. 

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day. 

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful. 

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine. 

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night. 

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?” 

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile. 

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son. 

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted. 

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown. 

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it. 

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control. 

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed. 

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud. 

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own. 

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for. 

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt. 

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?” 

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips. 

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?” 

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt. 

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible. 

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead. 

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room. 

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers. 

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days. 

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice. 

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long. 

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.” 

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries. 

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake. 

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you. 

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that. 

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse. 

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door. 

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep. 

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here. 

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable. 

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside. 

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation. 

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind. 

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same. 

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case. 

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.” 

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.” 

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..” 

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..” 

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud. 

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat. 

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly. 

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..” 

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you’ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it? 

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold. 

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.” 

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway. 

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?” 

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle,  some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word? 

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape. 

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time. 

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to? 

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful. 

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it? 

“I can help you.” 

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops. 

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too. 

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill. 

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket. 

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely. 

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. —  “No? And why’s that?” 

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.” 

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu. 

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.” 

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours. 

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel. 

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly. 

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones. 

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well. 

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin. 

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place. 

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe. 

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back. 

“Wait.” 

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer. 

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely. 

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open. 

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach. 

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?” 

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.” 

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you. 

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.” 

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother. 

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you. 

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow. 

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt. 

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one. 

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner. 

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.” 

Even more? 

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top. 

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you. 

“Lie down.” 

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you. 

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch. 

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.” 

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it. 

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair. 

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression. 

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself. 

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan. 

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing. 

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss. 

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it. 

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off. 

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back. 

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face. 

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?” 

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.” 

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.” 

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more. 

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night. 

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to. 

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by. 

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness. 

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect. 

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private. 

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him. 

“Beomgyu?” 

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there. 

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling. 

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..” 

⸝⸝ 

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him. 

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.  

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that. 

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID. 

“Dad.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement. 

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.” 

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown. 

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go? 

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did. 

“You have your mom.” 

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-” 

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong. 

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.” 

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling. 

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly. 

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips. 

“You have to let him go.” 

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip. 

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly. 

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t? 

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him. 

“Now she’s gone too.” 

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression. 

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek. 

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.” 

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up. 

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have. 

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

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[strang3lov3]

Rescue Mission

“You take him beautifully, birdie. Beautifully,” Ezra says, now drawing in and out of you at a faster pace. “Look how happy he is inside a’ ya. You’re soakin’ the fella.”

Tags - smut, dubcon, dbf/dad’s weed guy/uncle!ezra (he’s not your biological uncle. I promise), pussy job, unprotected piv, creampie, cock pronouns in excess, cock nicknames (fella, bastard), Ezra’s cock has a titan’s girth (thank @beefrobeefcal), fire hazards, somno ish, plumber’s crack, smoking weed, a tasteful amount of pussy pronouns, me writing Ezra comes with its own warning, surprise surprise Ezra is morally bankrupt, Beefro contributed so I’m not all to blame, Ezra has a lot more jizz than the average man. i don't know how to summarize this. Fic Help - thank you @beefrobeefcal for being my guiding light. Without you this fic would be nothing! thank you @endlessthxxghts and @noxturnalnymph for your eyeballs! A/N - heddo! I finished my research paper but I still have a few things to do as far as school goes, but the end of the semester is right around the corner!! Thank you all for being so patient with me this month. I love you. Mwah!

This is my submission for @sp00kymulderr’s cock pronoun event. I had so much fun with this!! Thank you for hosting, Gideon!!

After packing your old Vera Bradley weekender duffel bag with the last of your clothes for the long weekend ahead of you, you open up your phone one last time to check the weather. It’s not supposed to snow until later in the afternoon, but you’ll make it to your dad’s before then. 

You haul your duffel into the backseat of your car, then carefully place two 9x13 Pyrex pans covered in tin foil next to it. Your dad asked that you prepare a couple of Thanksgiving sides - sweet potatoes and broccoli cheese casserole. Your dad is taking care of the turkey, with other extended family members taking care of everything else. 

You do one last quick check to make sure everything is in order, taking care to give your cat an extra scoop of food.

Fuck - the litter box. You almost forgot! You thoroughly clean it so your neighbor doesn’t have as much work to do when they’re caring for your cat in your absence, but you realize you forgot to buy a new tub of litter at the store the other day. Not to worry, your dad left you some in the trunk of your car for some reason or another. You’ll just leave that for your neighbor to use. 

You get into the driver’s seat after turning off all the lights and pull up directions to your dad’s on your phone and put on Father John Misty’s newest album, then you’re on your merry way. 

About a quarter way through your drive, you have to turn your windshield wipers on. It’s not bad, but there’s the tiniest sprinkle of snow coming down. It’s probably nothing. People are driving like morons under just the threat of snow, but it’s nothing. It’ll be fine. At a stoplight, you change the music. This time, you listen to Love Deluxe by Sadé, one of your Uncle Ezra’s favorite albums. You wonder if you’ll see him at Thanksgiving. 

Quickly, the snow becomes not-nothing. The further you drive, the worse it gets. The snowflakes are getting bigger and coming down heavier, and the road ahead of you is becoming so covered that you can hardly make out the white and yellow lines painted on the road. You’ve slowed to driving at about twenty miles an hour, and you’re growing nervous. It seems like you’re headed deeper into the storm. 

Forty-five minutes pass, though you’ve not driven more than ten miles. It’s coming down now, and the roads are so thick with snow that you’re driving at what feels slower than a glacial pace. This is getting dangerous. The good news, however, is that you did see plow trucks driving down the opposite side of the median. Not confident in your ability to safely drive through what is now probably three inches of snow on the ground, plus the added slush and ice, you decide to pull over and wait for a truck to salt and plow the roads before continuing on your way. You turn on your hazards and watch the traffic move slowly ahead of you; it seems that nobody else has the same idea as you. 

You text your dad first just to let him know that you’ll be a bit late, that you’re pulling over to wait out the storm and wait for the roads to be plowed. 

Ok. Stay safe. - Dad.

Things could be worse, right? You’re safe and warm in your car, you have plenty of gas in the tank. It’s probably another 45 minutes of just waiting, but finally, it happens: plow trucks drive by, salting the roads in their wake. Halle-fucking-lujah. You adjust your mirrors, put your seatbelt back on, and throw the gear shift into drive. Aaand…

You’re stuck. 

You press the gas again, and you’re still stuck. It doesn’t take long for you to start to panic. But your dad will know what to do, right? You call your dad and explain the situation to him. 

“Try rocking the car,” your dad tells you.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Forward, reverse. Forward, reverse.”

With your dad on speakerphone, you try just that, but it’s a difficult maneuver. “It’s not working, Dad.”

“Okay, okay. Can you dig yourself out?”

“No!” you whine. “I am not doing that.”

Your dad’s eye roll is audible. “Alright. Cat litter. I left you cat litter in your trunk last time you came up, remember? Sprinkle that around your tires, it should give you enough traction to get out.”

“Cat litter…cat litter…”

“Yes, the cat litter. That I left in your trunk.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Yes. About that.” 

Your dad groans on the other end of the phone, “You have to be kidding. Okay. Hang on, where are you again?”

“Just past…I don’t know. I’ll drop you a pin.” You text your dad your location. The text takes some time to go through, but it does. 

“Alright. Uncle Ezra’s not far from you. I’ll give him a call, see if he can’t pick you up. Hang tight.”

“Isn’t he with you?”

“No,” your dad replies. “Why would he be with me?”

“I just figured he’d be up for Thanksgiving too.”

“I invited him, but I never heard back. Dude probably forgot. Okay, call you back.”

Sounds like Ezra. Ezra always was an…odd duck. You remember him visiting from time to time when you were a kid, and he and your dad would spend a lot of time locked in the garage together. It wasn’t until much later that you realized they were smoking weed. 

Ezra’s not your uncle, not really. It’s just what he calls himself. He’s your dad’s old coworker turned weed dealer turned buddy. Probably still sells your dad weed, though. Ezra also used to sell your dad quarter sticks of dynamite for the Fourth of July, and both of them made you promise not to tell anyone about that.

  Ezra was always a comforting, if somewhat peculiar, presence in your life. He called himself your guardian angel and texted you from an unknown number - he never has the same phone number whenever he texts you - on your twenty-first birthday, promising that one day soon he’d take you out for a beer. 

Your dad calls you back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet him back. 

Your dad cuts right to the chase. He tells you that Uncle Ezra is on his way, that he has your location and he’ll come pick you up in thirty minutes. Worry about towing your car later, et cetera. 

“Okay. Love you. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Love you too, honey. Be safe.”

-

‘On his way’ your ass. True to Uncle Ezra’s style, he doesn’t show up until nearly two and a half hours later. It’s just like that time he told you he’d pick you up from something at eleven and didn’t show up until the clock said 11:47. ‘Yeah,” he said, ‘Clock still says eleven, don’t it?’  He pulls up next to your car in a beat up old Kia van, the same Kia he’s been driving for years. 

Ezra hops out of his car, clad in snow boots, plaid pajama bottoms, a Carhartt jacket, and a fleece trapper hat. He stomps through the snow and opens your door, then ushers you into his van. “I apologize for the delay. Wasn’t expectin’ to be assigned a rescue mission,” he shouts at you. You’re not sure why he’s yelling. 

You watch Ezra grab your prepared food and the duffel from the back of your car, his ass crack visible through his falling pants. Ezra tosses it all haphazardly in his before getting back into the driver’s seat. He’s covered in snow, stomping off the flakes before looking over at you. With his dark brown eyes narrowed in your direction, he scans you up and down. “What on God’s green earth is the matter with you? You intended to traverse without the proper coverage?” 

“Excuse me?”

It takes your brain double the time to process Ezra’s words. You forgot about the unique way he speaks, his very particular vocabulary. You wonder where he picked up that way of speaking.

Ezra gestures to your torso. Oh, you think. Right. You’re just wearing a hoodie. You suppose it could have been a problem, had your car’s heat gone out.  

“Jacket,” he chastises you. 

“Yeah, no. I got it.”

“Then where is it?”

“No- like, I understood what you-” Ezra stares at you expectantly, with raised eyebrows. “Never mind.”

Ezra shakes his head in disappointment, then puts his foot on the brake of his Kia and pulls it into drive. “My domicile will have to do for you tonight, birdie. If you are amenable to it, of course.” 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Works for me.”

-

It takes Ezra about forty-five minutes to drive back to his house, which is located behind a water tower and a church off of a highway exit. It’s in a secluded area, thick with trees, the snow much heavier on the unplowed roads over here. Ezra pulls into his driveway, then opens the garage via a remote control attached to his sun visor. He gets out of his seat first, then rounds the front of his van and opens your door. “Hold onto me,” he tells you, holding out his arm. “You’re liable to slip and fall on these slick grounds.” 

You take hold of Ezra’s sleeve, and he carefully helps you out of the van and ushers you inside his house. “Get settled in. I shall retrieve your belongings and return to you post haste.”

You toe off your shoes and leave them on Ezra’s doormat, then begin strolling through his home, perusing through his belongings. His home is cluttered yet clean; lava lamps left on, paintings of St. Francis and St. Gertrude on the walls in his game room, which has floor to ceiling bookshelves full of board games and Dungeons & Dragons paraphernalia. A Halloween bucket full of month-old candy on the table. The house smells strongly of incense, and when you turn the corner and enter the living room you see that Ezra’s left his fireplace lit. 

“Awh shit, must’ve slipped my mind,” Ezra says, noticing the same thing you do. He’s got your duffel bag on his back and the Pyrex pans in his arms. He sets all items down, then goes back into his garage without a word. A few minutes pass and you’re left confused by his absence, so you follow him. 

“Uncle Ezra?”

Ezra’s at his workbench, the warm flicker of a flame illuminating his handsome features as he lights a joint. He blows out the smoke, then smiles at you. “Joinin’ me?”

“Uhhh…”

“C’mon,” he urges. “It’s the holidays.” 

You join Ezra at his workbench, still unsure if you want to partake yet. While Ezra smokes, you study his workbench. There’s not one tool in sight, but there’s lucky bingo trolls, little Buddha statues, snow globes, and other little tchotchkes sitting on the bench. It’s lit by old, dim, rainbow Christmas lights, and little ornaments hang from the wire. You touch an ornament depicting John McClane from Die Hard in when he’s in the air vent, turning it side to side as you inspect it. 

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker,” Ezra croaks out with a smile then coughs. He offers you his joint. “Let’s have ourselves a merry little Christmas, now.” 

“It’s Thanksgiving, Ez.” 

Ezra’s brows knit together, “What’d I say?”

“Christmas.”

“Oh.”

Ezra’s still confused as he puts the pieces together, and then he realizes you’re correct. “I suppose you’re right, little bird. In any case, s’a reason to celebrate with a little green, no?”

“I’m not sure Thanksgiving is the weed-smoking holiday.” 

“Oh, but it is indeed, little bird. C’mere.” Ezra takes a pull from the joint held between his middle and forefingers, then, still holding the joint, puts both hands on your cheeks and pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours. He blows the smoke into your mouth, “Attagirl,” he says, his lips curled in a wry smile that makes your stomach churn and your heart flutter. You cough a bit, turning away from him to hide your flustered expression. Ezra pats you on the back. “You’re alright. You got it.” 

He pulls off his trapper hat then, setting it on the workbench. His black hair all messy, and he’s gotten grayer since you’ve seen him last, but that little white streak is still prominent as ever. “Let’s get you somethin’ to eat. Betcha need somethin’ in ya,” he says. 

Ezra ushers you inside, then sits you down on a barstool at the kitchen counter window. He opens his once white but yellowing-with-age refrigerator, scratching the back of his head as he examines his lack of contents in it. “I got…uh…” he trails off, bending his upper half to look through condiments and cans of ginger ale. “Wasn’t expectin’ company.” He opens a box of take-out, takes a whiff, and recoils. “Christ almighty,” he exclaims, “Don’t even wanna know what that most unholy concoction is.” then throws the box away. 

You have to laugh. Ezra is as Ezra as ever. Charming, bizarre, endearing, confusing. He’s never had his shit together, not once. You slide out of your barstool, then head into the kitchen to join him. You nudge him to the side, then pull out your Pyrex pans of Thanksgiving sides from his refrigerator. He’s got an R2-D2 magnet holding up a paper full of logins and passwords on it. ‘ezralikesballs’ is his WiFi password, apparently. 

Ezra smirks at you, tapping his index finger against his temple. “Smart girl,” he says, watching as you start pressing buttons on his oven. “Hold it right there–” Ezra pushes you out of the way and opens the oven door, pulling out various Halloween decorations, all of them plastic, before allowing you to preheat his oven. “Didn’t have a proper place to store ‘em.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. How this man made it past forty years is beyond you. You preheat Ezra’s oven, then sit back down at the barstool as you wait for it to heat up. Ezra pours you a glass of ginger ale, and you spend the time until your food is warmed talking. 

Ezra doesn’t have oven mitts or potholders, so you have to pull your pans out with kitchen towels. You carefully pull off the foil, and Ezra’s standing beside you with plates and forks, ready to serve you both. 

“Goddamn,” he marvels, salivating at the sight of the food you prepared. “You made all of this?”

“I did, yeah,” you reply, smiling shyly. 

“Beautiful. Jus’ beautiful.” Ezra serves himself first, a generous helping of both the sweet potatoes and broccoli casserole. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a can of Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce, “Knew this’d come in handy. Never hurts to have a can of this stuff for emergencies,” Ezra tells you, waving the can in your direction. He serves you next, then opens the cranberry sauce and puts a bit of it on both of your plates. You avert your eyes from the expiration date on the can. You don’t wanna know.

With a nod of his head, Ezra tells you to go sit in his living room. He pushes an ottoman in your direction with his foot, then sits down on his sofa. He pats the spot next to himself, “C’mere, sweetheart. Uncle Ezra missed his birdie.” You sit next to Ezra, who then turns on his TV. He puts on the Thanksgiving classic, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, which is also one of his favorite movies. “‘Tis the season.” 

-

Ezra nudges you and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Wake up, sleepyhead. The hour’s come for us to adjourn to my quarters,” he drawls. 

“Hm?”

You hadn’t even realized you were asleep, and asleep on Ezra’s shoulder at that. In your head, you thought you could still hear the movie, that you were following along to it. You’re surprised to see Steve Martin cursing out the airport attendant on Ezra’s TV. 

“Bedtime,” he says. “Upstairs.” 

“Oh. That’s okay, Uncle Ezra. I’m fine right here.” 

“On the sofa?”

“Yeah.” 

“No.”

You turn your head to face Ezra better, stunned. “No?”

“This couch is Hans’ domain. Best not to provoke the fella. Don’t feel like settin’ him off tonight.” 

Hans is Ezra’s cat that you’ve rarely ever seen, but have often felt when his feather-duster tail brushes your foot, heard him when he hisses at you before skittering off into a dark corner. He has to be in his twenties at this point, an Eldritch creature. Hans was ancient when Ezra found him palling around with a raccoon by his garbage, and that was years ago. Ezra’s always spoken about him like Hans is an abusive husband, that one wrong move could result in a reckoning most unpleasant. You’re glad to know the beast is well. 

Ezra stands up first, then stretches backward, exposing his soft, pillowy tummy and happy trail to you. He smirks when he catches you looking. “Your turn, birdie. Up you go.” Ezra bends forward and takes hold of both of your hands, then guides you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

You enter the dark room first, Ezra right behind you with his hand on the small of your back. He turns the lights on and his bed is neatly made with the scratchiest flannel sheets that have to be well over decades old, knit afghans that are even older and have absolutely seen better days. Ezra peels off his clothes, tossing them into a laundry basket on the floor. Clad in nothing but boxers, Ezra gets into his bed. 

God, it is sweltering. Ezra’s house is warm to begin with, but does not heat efficiently at all. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and change, pulling out from your duffel only an oversized t-shirt. You’ll just be strategic, so as not to flash Ezra. 

You return to Ezra’s bedroom, and he looks halfway asleep already. “Do Uncle Ezra a kindness, darlin’, and hit the lights for me.” Ezra makes a lazy gesture toward the light switch by the door. 

You turn off the light, and darkness consumes the small bedroom until Ezra turns on his small CRT-TV, Die Hard playing and already halfway through. Another one of Ezra’s favorite films, as evidenced by the name he gave his cat and the little ornament in the garage. You’re not much of a sleep-with-the-TV-on person, but Ezra’s blackout blinds kind of freak you out so it’s nice to have that light. Plus, the volume is low enough. It’s been a long, long day. It weirds you out a little to sleep next to Ezra, but you know that while he’s a strange and bizarre man, he’s ultimately harmless. You slide into bed, exhausted to the point that you’re not even bothered by Ezra’s rock-hard mattress or the scratchiness of his sheets and blankets. The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re asleep. 

-

You wake up in Ezra’s bedroom to that suffocating, smothering heat, the hot air so thick that it burns your nose and your throat. God, how does he sleep this way? His flannel sheets under your body are also warm, and Ezra’s insulating all that heat with his own body. Ezra’s cuddling you tightly, and you’re not sure when that happened, not sure whether he initiated it or if you did. Despite the heat, you don’t entirely mind when he snuggles you closer, curling himself around your body. Nuzzling the back of your neck, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. 

Until you do mind. 

He groans when he presses himself tightly against your frame, his hard cock against your ass as he ruts his hips into you. 

“Uncle Ezra,” you whisper, scooting your body in the opposite direction. In Ezra’s unconscious state, he pulls you back against his body, now fully grinding his hard bulge into your backside with a rhythmic tilting of his hips. “Ezra,” you hiss, voice firmer.

“Wha…” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, his words slow and slurred. His brow pinched together and his eyes are squeezed shut to block out bluish light from his TV. “What’s ‘a matter?”

“You- your-” You swallow, trying to summon the words. 

“What’s that? You’re havin’ a nightmare of sorts? C’mere, sweet birdie. Go back to sleep. I gotcha.” Ezra presses a kiss against the back of your head.

“N-no, fuck. Ezra-” You wiggle out from Ezra’s hold, then flip over onto your back. 

The loss of your warm body against his cock, that’s when it all clicks for Ezra. “Ohhhh, I get it,” he murmurs, chuckling. “I understand perfectly well.”

“Yeah…”

“I do apologize, little bird,” Ezra says in a raspy, low voice. He reaches for your cheek and drags his pointer finger up and down the soft skin there. “The bastard’s got a mind of his own, doesn’t he?”

Jesus Christ, he’s so fucking weird. He? Ezra’s given his cock pronouns?

“S’alright, go on back to sleep, now.” 

This has to be a nightmare. Or something in between a nightmare and a wet dream. You’ve had those before, anyway. You drift off to sleep once more, then awake again to Ezra’s bulge against you. This time, you feel more of him. His underwear is off, and he’s rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy. “Ezra!”

“What’s troublin’ ya now, birdie, tell me.” 

“You…fuck.”

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong and you know it. But goddamn, if his cock isn’t thick. Ezra keeps rocking his hips, grunting softly in your ear as he rubs his hard length against your pussy, arousal dampening the cotton of your underwear. 

“I do apologize for wakin’ ya with my member, but he’s got a titan’s girth, birdie. What’s a man to do?”

Titan’s girth…what the fuck. You don’t even know where to begin deciphering that statement. Right now, the only thing on your mind is fighting the growing heat, that sticky feeling building deep in your belly as Ezra continues to grind against you. His little noises of pleasure aren’t helping in the slightest. 

“Let’s get you outta these,” Ezra huffs rather impatiently, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, then pulls them down with a practiced ease. He tilts your ass, “Yeah, lay like that. You won’t even know he’s there,” he whispers, then slots his length between your lips, coating himself in your arousal as he moves his hips. “Don’t pay him any mind, birdie.”

“Ez- oh, fuck–” you gasp when the thick head of his cock catches against your clit, sparking a pleasure even more intense. “We - you can’t.”

“Oh, I know, angel. He just needs to feel ya a bit, that’s all. Not gonna feel any sort ‘a - fuck–” Ezra notches his tip inside you, only temporarily as he continues rutting, “Any intrusion of any sort.” 

“O-okay.” 

Ezra snakes a hand under your shirt and paws at your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh in such a manner so as not to be too harsh, but god, he could tear you apart. Ever the gentleman, he holds back, teasing your nipples with his fingers instead. You moan a little louder, a little more sweetly when he does that to you. 

It’s an excruciating tease - long, arduous, excruciating. Ezra needs more from you. He could get himself off just like this, fucking your slick folds and no more, but Ezra’s really not one to deprive himself. He’s always been a bit of a libertine in that regard, believing that pleasure’s good for the heart, good for the soul, too. He can’t stave off his hedonistic tendencies much longer, “Ohh, Christ. You feel how fuckin’ hard he is? He needs ya somethin’ fierce, birdie. Needs to be inside that sweet cunt of yours.”

“Ezra…”

“Why don’t you let him in, sweetheart? You need it too, I know you do.”

“We really shouldn’t, Ezra.”

“Says who, sweetheart? Ah–” Ezra notches his tip inside you fully, inching inside you little by little, “You cure what ails him, little bird. Be a lamb, now.” Ezra pushes inside you in one full thrust, burying himself down to the hilt. Ezra did get you sufficiently wet, but it’s still, still such a stretch. You wince in pain, and Ezra covers your mouth to quiet your cry. “You’ll get used to him. Relax, angel. M’gonna have him take good care of ya.” 

With that, Ezra builds a slow pace at first. Just steadily moving in and out of you, his short term goal only to get you used to the thickness of his member. “Ezra,” you sigh. 

“You take him beautifully, birdie. Beautifully,” Ezra says, now drawing in and out of you at a faster pace. “Look how happy he is inside a’ ya. You’re soakin’ the fella.”

Ezra moves fluidly, thrusting in and out of you as he breathes heavily in your ear, whispering swears you’ve only rarely heard him speak. This angle in particular has Ezra hitting that most special place inside of you as that hot, fiery pleasure inside you intensifies tenfold. 

He’s sweaty and warm against you, his body slick with sweat. You clutch his forearm as he fucks you, rocking your hips to match his thrusts. He feels so fucking good, good enough to scramble every thought in your brain. His cock is so long and thick and curved at just the perfect angle. 

Ezra wriggles his arm down the front of you, fingers immediately finding your clit. You gasp when he touches it, rubbing perfect, practiced circles into the sensitive bud. “Oh fuck, Ezra.” 

“Yeah, she likes that, doesn't she, birdie? Don’t take much at all.” Ezra smiles behind you, then presses a kiss against your cheek. He breathes you in as he fucks you, rubbing your clit with precision to bring you to the edge. Within seconds, you’re whimpering, thighs twitching against his large, masculine hand. “Let go,” he grunts. “Come all over him.” 

With his ministrations, his cock fucking you perfectly, you come with a loud symphony of moans, a mixture of swears and Ezra’s own name. Your pulsing cunt coaxes Ezra’s own orgasm along, walls squeezing around him as he paints your insides with so, so much come. A truly astounding amount of come. 

“Ohhh, he needed that,” Ezra groans, pulling out of you with no regard for his spend that spills out of you and onto his flannel sheets. “Thanks for humorin’ him, birdie. Go on and get some sleep now.”

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with some kind thoughts or send me an ask!! Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me motivated to write, and goes so far in making this blog feel like a community 🩷

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

it was your writing that convinced me to finally start leaving comments in the tags on fics, congrats on 900!!!

imagining this as either playful, or scoffed brattily at ak jason...

"What're you gonna do? Kill me?"

~800 words. He's toxic in this, but I feel like I always write AK that way. Enjoy!

Jason Todd is your... something. It's hard to put a label on something that feels like it could slip away at one wrong move, one misplaced step.

You've tried to come to terms with who he is now, how that cell in Arkham changed him. But it's hard. It's really hard when he's become so volatile, when he treats everything you say and do like it's a trick.

You love him. Really. You always have. You still do. But he's so angry at you right now. All you did was leave his stupid base for a last-minute dinner with your friends.

Yeah, Gotham is dangerous. Yeah, you could have left a note. But you're an adult, and he's not in charge of you, no matter how much he thinks he is.

He's still in that ridiculous outfit, helmet lifted over his face as he rants and paces back and forth. He spits venom at you, tries to make you feel like you're wrong.

You don't think you're wrong. If anything, you're just as livid, fingers curling into fists at his words. He had no right to snatch you off the street on your way back. No right to lecture you and treat you like you've committed the crime of the century.

"You act like you're invincible," he snaps, eyes sharp and glaring, "Always running off on your own. I should– I should just–"

"You should just what," you hiss back, unable to bite down your words any longer. You cross your arms, defiant and unwilling to give him an inch, "What are you gonna do? Kill me?"

He stops in his track, and the air seems to grow cold. You almost waver, almost back down and scramble to get out apologies. But your fury feels righteous, and you egg him on through your wariness.

"Well," you goad, "Are you? Gonna get rid of me the same way you do all your other problems?"

He says your name, sounds out every letter in a slow, deep rumble of a warning, “Careful.”

It's a threat you immediately ignore. A small part of you knows he's dangerous, that there's blood on his hands, but you don't care enough to caution yourself. All he's done tonight is push you, and you want to push back.

Your lips curl into some semblance of a snarl, brushing off how stony his face has gone, “Bite me, Jason. I'm done. Done with trying to figure out what you even want from me any–”

Fingers close around your throat before you can get out another word. You choke on nothing as his hand flexes, reminding you exactly how much strength he carries.

“You are not done,” he tells you. It's a command, an order, and instruction you can't even consider disobeying. “We are not done. Be angry. Be upset. But don't, don't you dare end anything.”

All you can manage is a weak nod, eyes wide and dumbstruck as he stares you down with relentless determination. His thumb strokes the side of your neck, gaze expectant and waiting. When you don't manage to find your words, he finds them for you.

“Tell me we aren't done,” he murmurs, tone lower, but no less sharp and commanding. His grip doesn't waver, even when you reach up to grab his wrist and tug.

“We aren't done,” you echo weakly, desperate for him to let go. Even if he's not squeezing your throat, the threat is enough to make you light-headed. Your knees feel like they're going to give, and you can't seem to get your body to move.

He stares at you for another minute, then drops his hand from its place around your neck. You suck in a desperate breath of air, and his face doesn't even twitch.

“You should know by now, what I want,” he says, tone flat and void of any hints of how he's feeling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say. There's nothing to say. Your heart is pounding. You think you might be scared. And you really don't know what he wants from you. Not anymore.

He clenches his jaw. There's words on the tip of his tongue, you can tell. You can tell the same way he can tell that he's frightened you.

But he doesn't apologize, doesn't offer you any semblance of comfort. It's a silent standoff, almost a staring contest as your rub where his hand lingered only seconds ago.

He exhales shakily, breaking the moment, “Just– don't leave. It doesn't matter what you think of me or any of this. Doesn't matter if you hate me. It's too late for you to leave. You're a part of this now.”

“I don't hate you,” you breathe out, and it almost tastes like a lie. You're not sure if either of you believes it. But he steps closer, ignoring the way you stiffen.

He draws you into a tight hug, murmuring almost incoherently into the top of your head that you need to stay. That you're going to stay.

It's only then, only when he holds you so close that you're nearly suffocating, that you realize it was never really your choice. You're going to stay.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter I

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Vestal!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 6.5k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, More tags to be added (!)

AO3 I Series Masterlist I Masterlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

guys, where do we even start. i can't live with his end so i am rewriting it. enjoy <3

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house posticum - a servant's entrance cubiculas - roman bedrooms

You didn't think it would lead to this.

A beloved General, a just man, kneeling in front of his opponent in the sand that covers the arena floor, the cloud of its dust settling onto the two men facing each other. The particles glisten in the scorching heat of the relentless sun above you, just as violent as the battle you have just witnessed.

It is not something you have ever truly enjoyed, hearing the last gasp of a dying man, seeing the moment a blade enters his stomach. Watching the winner shout with glee. Watching the dead body be dragged away.

But sitting in the specifically reserved area near the Emperors is good custom. Custom keeps one alive.

Custom is also hard to uphold when the man your heart is set on is fighting to keep his life mere feet below you.

You see Acacius’s lips move, see the pleading look in his eyes.

And then a soft thud echoes through the Colosseum as Lucius drops his sword and falls to his knees across from the General.

You wipe your hands furiously on your white gown, trying to keep your hands from sweating as your heart pumps wildly in your chest. You wonder what would happen to it if the sword would've found Acacius’s torso instead. Or his neck. Maybe it would've just given out, unwilling to beat any longer if his was not doing the same.

“No! Kill him! Soldiers!” The Emperor's cries reach you even through the uproar of the crowd, which is unwilling to accept any match that doesn't end with death. Rome always wants death.

“Archers!” He yells and you hold your breath as they draw their bows in unison, tips pointed right into the middle of the arena where the two men are still kneeling.

“Move,” you whisper under your breath, almost as if you believe Acacius can hear you. But he doesn't. He stays on his knees, upright, seemingly waiting for the arrows to hit. An archer to your left releases his arrow with a slight tremor in his arm–and misses by inches. It hits the sand behind Lucius instead, a small cloud of dust rising around it. But your eyes are drawn to the gentle movement of the General as he raises his arm.

“Hold.”

He doesn't have to scream the command. But his deep voice still travels throughout the Colosseum with urgency. The voice of a man who knows how to instruct his soldiers, how to make himself heard even on the battlefield, in the face of death. Even if it's his own that is imminent.

His reminder rings out in your head.

“How many of them will be loyal to you?” – “All of them.”

The archers hold their fire, no arrows following the first one. You turn your head to catch a glimpse of the twin Emperors, both practically jumping up and down with fury as they yell at the archers, at the guards, at anyone who will listen. “We'll have his head! We'll have the General's head for this! How dare he defy us–”

The bows are lowered as soldiers march into the arena, roughly placing cuffs around both men's hands. Acacius doesn't try to intervene with their orders this time, slowly rising to his feet and letting them lead him back towards the gate, though you don't miss the small stagger in his step. It makes a wave of worry wash over you.

“We’ll have your head, General! You will not live to see another battle! You will not even live to see another sunrise!”

Your blood runs cold at that and you stand up abruptly, your head bowed as your feet carry you back into the outer corridor of the Colosseum, a light breeze greeting you as the angry yells and curses from inside the arena grow more quiet.

You have given everything for Rome. Your vows, your service. You will not give him.

***

The moon is hiding away behind a large cloud when you slip out of the house and onto Via Nova, the sounds of cicadas and the occasional bark of a dog filling the night. Having fulfilled your duties for the evening and claimed that the scene at the Colosseum gave you a dull headache, you retired early. When the sounds of the other women in the house died down, you took your chance.

It isn't far to the domus Acacius and Lucilla reside in, your own quarters located just below Palatine Hill. On a clear day, you can see the stone walls of his house from the garden you use to grow herbs.

After about fifty feet, you turn, following down a more narrow path that allows you to travel in the shadows. A few minutes later, it leads you to the posticum of the noble home, an entrance off to the side, used mainly by the servants–or visitors unwilling to be seen. Acacius has taken to keeping it unlocked whenever he knows you are coming. You pray that it still is.

A light push against the wooden door is all it needs to swing open with a small creak, making you hold your breath as you place one careful foot in front of the other. The last thing you need is to alert any guards to your nightly visit.

But you’ve learned how to walk in the shadows and which streets to avoid. You know that the second step from the bottom creaks if you put too much weight on it. It feels like the stone walls of his house are silent witnesses to the amount of time you have spent tip-toeing to his quarters after everyone else has retired for the night.

You distantly wonder if they have allowed him the comfort of his own bed as you enter the atrium, already turning right towards the cubiculas–and pause when your gaze flickers around the open space.

Acacius is hunched over on a chair, a thick metal cuff sneaking around his ankle, the chain fastened securely around one of the columns that line each side of the open room. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice that he is wearing nothing but his red tunic, the gold details on the edges already worn and fading. He shivers in the cold night air, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He looks so different from how he did in the arena just mere hours earlier. Smaller, somehow.

When you step forward, his head turns, eyes widening as you step into the dim light and recognition flickers over his face. “Dulcissima.”

You try to give him a smile but you're sure it fails miserably. Instead, you lessen the distance between you, passing the fountain in the center. “Acacius–”

“By the gods, what are you doing here?” He whispers, his soft brown eyes looking up at you. He sounds scared, his voice quiet but rough. Up close, you find that not only have they left him chained up in his own atrium but they have also not tended to his wounds. Caked blood and dirt decorate his skin, a part of his hair matted down with something that you hope is the latter.

You ignore his question. “They sentenced you to death.” No matter how hard you try, you can't keep your voice from shaking.

“They sentenced me to death the moment they learned about the plot,” Acacius mumbles quietly. “You know this. It was always going to end this way.”

“Where is Lucilla?” You ask quietly, casting a quick glance around yourself, almost expecting her to step forward from behind one of the columns. Even if you know you have nothing to fear from her. In fact, she may be the only person who understands what you are currently feeling.

“She is with two of the men. On their way to Lucius,” he admits, turning his body a bit more into your direction, which immediately forces a small grunt out of him. You suck in a sharp breath, though you're not sure whether it's in response to his injury or to what you just learned.

“He may already be dead.”

Acacius glances up at you with a look you can't quite place. Then he nods. “He may be.” He shakes his head ever so slightly. “But he has friends in the Colosseum. You forget whose son he is.” The General pauses again, his eyes searching your face as his whisper becomes more urgent. “Why are you here?”

A small sigh escapes you as you take two more steps towards Acacius. “Because you forgot who I am.”

It takes a few moments before recognition flickers in his eyes–and he understands. That as a Vestal, you may pardon with a touch of your hand. Even slaves. Even those sentenced to death.

He has seen you do it, once or twice. When prisoners called out to you as you passed by them with the jug of holy water. Begged you to place your palm on their head, to allow them to live. And they did. But this? This is different.

“No.”

“Marcus,” you say softly. “It’s the power they have given me, the role they have cursed me with. I may as well use it for good.”

“Dulcissima, they will know,” he protests, wincing slightly as he shifts his weight onto his legs and stands up. “They will know about us. They do not even need proof to put you on trial.”

“I do not care if they put me on trial,” you blurt out, taking a step forward just as he takes two back.

“Do not lay your hand on me,” he warns, raising his hand not unlike the way he did in the Colosseum earlier.

“Marcus. Please.” You’re begging more than asking. You don't think you could take it. A Rome without him.

His back hits the marble column and he curses under his breath just as you reach him. The chains meant to keep him from escaping turn into chains that make sure you can save him. Even if he does not want saving.

The tremor that has been a constant in your hands since seeing Acacius fall to his knees in the arena has disappeared, your fingers stretching slightly as you stand on tiptoes to reach for his head.

Soft, dark curls greet the tips of your fingers and you sigh in relief, mumbling a prayer as your hand comes to rest on his head like a crown. A shuddering breath leaves him, his eyes cast downward. Tension bleeds from his body, his shoulders sagging. A softness his soldiers never get to see.

It is a reminder of the nights you’ve spent together, always hidden and always too short. With whispered promises and silent prayers to Vesta to forgive you for loving him. You do not know how not to. And you don't ever want to find out.

But the way you bend upward, lips meeting his forehead–it simply comes more naturally than it should.

notes: thank you for reading! feel free to follow me on here or twitter/ao3 for updates on the next chapters! also, i would love to hear yalls thoughts so feel very free to leave a comment <3

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[creamflix]

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 5: finale]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, love triangle, angst, slow-burn,eventual smut, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto,uraume, choso kamo, gojo satoru, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman! choso fanfic

word count: 11.7k words

notes: with that, persephone comes to an end. thank you all so much for loving persephone! reader and business tycoon! sukuna <3 i hope this was the closure you were looking for. me personally i would have wanted to end it with a 4some with reader, suguru, uraume and sukuna /hj please let me know how you liked it in the comments below, i'd love to hear your thoughts - please grill me, i need the criticism. regarding the side-fics, i will be relasing them as lengthier oneshots. chapters don't really work for me, and i think it would be much more fun to read it in one go! i'll be putting out an announcement for tag list[s] soon enough <3.

masterlist

the rowdy murmur of voices and occasional bursts of laughter echoed faintly in the background as suguru pushed his way through the crowd. gojo’s teasing voice called after him, “yo suguru, where ya goin’? it’s just getting good in here!” suguru barely acknowledged him, stepping out into the quiet hallway and answering your call.

"hey," he said, voice soft but tired.

"hey," you replied, nerves laced in every syllable.

"miss me already?" suguru teased, but his heart wasn’t in it. there was something under the surface, a tension he couldn’t shake.

"yeah, i do." you paused, your throat tightening. "suguru… did you see the tabloid articles?"

there was a beat of silence, and then a deep sigh from his end. "yeah, i saw them. kinda hard not to. gojo thought it was funny as hell. i... i didn’t, obviously." his voice was flat, but you could hear the regret threaded in his words.

“suguru, you know i love you,” you began, feeling the weight of what you were about to say settle heavily on your chest.

"but?" suguru interrupted, his tone sharper than before.

"how did you —"

"just say it, vino," he urged, voice almost breaking. "i’ll handle it."

your breath caught in your throat, but you pushed through. "i need time for me. i need time to focus on myself. i can’t keep finding myself running back and forth between you two. being put on the spotlight like this… it’s not something i want."

there was a low, bitter laugh on the other end of the line. "so, what? you want to focus on yourself… but with sukuna? is that what you’re saying?" his frustration simmered just beneath the surface, restrained but there.

"that is not what i said," you shot back, feeling the rising heat of your own emotions.

"it sure sounds like that," he said, his voice a little more forceful now. "i don’t get it, y/n. i’ve been the one that helped you through everything, and now you’re basically saying you want to go back to that? have you lost your mind?"

"suguru, that’s a low blow, and you know it," you bit out, trying to keep your voice steady. "that happened four years ago —"

"but everyone, including yourself, can still see its effects today!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

you winced, his words digging into the fragile wounds you’d been trying to heal for years. "how i chose to handle the situation is entirely on me!" your voice wavered, the rawness of the past seeping into your tone. "i was a fucking pussy for drowning myself in booze, using it as an escape when i could’ve just… fixed my fucking life."

the line went quiet for a moment. you could hear him breathing, could almost picture him rubbing his temples like he always did when things got too overwhelming.

"...i understand," suguru finally said, his voice low, almost resigned.

"sugu —"

"no, y/n," he interrupted, his tone gentler now, but laced with exhaustion. "i think… i’ll spend an extra couple of days here. with gojo, i mean. i need a break."

"suguru, please —"

there was a long, suffocating pause. you thought he’d disconnected the call until you heard him sigh again, softer this time. "you should go," he said, and his words pierced through you like a cold wind. "to him, i mean."

"suguru…" you whispered, the ache in your chest blooming like a bruise.

"y/n, i’m fine." but his voice betrayed him, trembling ever so slightly. "your words… they sting, but they make sense. you need time for yourself. i get it. i just —" he broke off, struggling to gather his thoughts. "i hope you find what you’re looking for."

his voice cracked, and your heart shattered.

"i love you," he said, the words heavy with finality. "god, i love you. and that’s the best mistake i’ve ever made."

before you could respond, the call disconnected. the silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on you, leaving you feeling hollow and more confused than ever.

but in suguru’s words, in his acceptance, there was also release — something you both had desperately needed but hadn’t known how to ask for. now, you had no choice but to confront the feelings you had been running from. and the terrifying part? there was no going back from here.

you stand in your apartment, your phone clutched tightly in your hand, the weight of the conversation with suguru still heavy in your chest. your mind races, replaying his words, but another name keeps surfacing, drowning out everything else: sukuna.

without thinking, your fingers dial a number, and uraume’s voice crackles through the line.

“miss l/n?” they answer, their tone professional, but there's an edge of concern. “is everything okay?”

you hesitate, biting your lip before blurting, “where’s sukuna?”

there’s a pause on the other end. “ryomen? he’s… i’m not sure. he left the office earlier.”

“what do you mean you’re not sure?” your voice rises, frustration bubbling to the surface. “why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t you —”

uraume’s calm voice interrupts your panic. “miss l/n, i didn’t know. he booked a private jet on his own. i only found out about it moments ago. he didn’t give any explanation.”

your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a vice. “so, where is he now? where did he go?”

“he’s on his way to the airport.”

“the airport?!” you practically yell, the shock coursing through you like a jolt of electricity. “why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“i… i didn’t know,” uraume admits, their voice steady but tinged with a rare uncertainty. “he didn’t inform me of this.”

you exhale sharply, pacing the length of your apartment as your mind races. “okay, okay… i’ll meet you there. we need to stop him.”

“i’ll head there immediately,” uraume replies, their voice soft but firm. “don’t worry, miss l/n. we’ll figure this out.”

“don’t — just… i’ll be there in twenty.” you hang up, your heart hammering in your chest as you scramble for your keys.

your legs feel like lead as you sprint through the airport, dodging passengers, security, anyone in your way. you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, the weight of your desperation pushing you forward. the moment you passed through the security gate, it was all a blur — uraume must have worked their magic, because no one tried to stop you. you didn’t even have to explain yourself. no time for explanations, no time for anything except reaching him.

as you break into the open air of the runway, the roaring engines of sukuna’s private jet make everything around you tremble. the wind whips against your skin, tearing at your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. nothing matters except the sight of him — sukuna — climbing the steps to the jet, his broad frame silhouetted against the dull gray sky.

"sukuna!" you scream, your voice raw, your chest aching. the sound of the engines should drown you out, but somehow, as if attuned to your very soul, he hears you. he always hears you.

he pauses, his head turning sharply in your direction, and for a split second, the world seems to stop. his gaze locks onto yours, his red eyes wide with disbelief. you see the flicker of something unguarded, something vulnerable, as he stands frozen in place.

and then, for the first time in what feels like forever, he runs. he runs. down the ramp, missing a step, his usually precise and calculated movements thrown off as he rushes toward you. it’s so uncharacteristic of him — so unlike the sukuna you know — but in this moment, it’s all you’ve ever needed.

you meet him halfway, breathless, your chest heaving as you stop in front of him. the wind roars around you, the plane's wings creating a deafening backdrop, but everything else seems silent. it’s just the two of you. his eyes, stormy and conflicted, bore into yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

he looks at you like he doesn’t know whether to yell, hug, or kiss you, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides.

"you’re bad for me," he finally rasps, his voice strained. it’s a confession, not an accusation. his brows knit together, and there’s something in his eyes — fear, anger, something raw. “you ruin me.”

“i know,” you whisper back, the wind biting at your skin, but your words are steady. “i know, ‘kuna.”

his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath heavy like he’s on the verge of something. "we shouldn’t be doing this," he growls, his voice deep and rough, like he's trying to convince himself as much as you. his eyes flash with a dark emotion, flickering between anger and longing. "this isn’t — we can’t."

you step closer, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. “push me away then.” your voice is soft but firm, your gaze never leaving his.

he stares at you, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists. his jaw clenches, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. but when he opens his mouth to say something, nothing comes out. his lips part, and you see the conflict raging inside him. the way his eyes flicker between the plane behind him and your face, the way his body tenses as if he’s preparing to do something — anything — other than admit the truth.

"i can’t," he finally breathes, his voice breaking. his hands, trembling, reach for you but stop just short, as if touching you might shatter whatever’s left of him. there’s a roughness in his tone, a vulnerability that you rarely see.

you close the distance, taking his hands into yours. they’re cold, shaking slightly as you pull them towards you. “then don’t.”

he pulls you into him, his hands gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, his body warm despite the coldness around you. his forehead presses against yours, and you feel his breath on your lips. for a moment, neither of you say anything, the closeness too overwhelming.

“this is a mistake,” he whispers, his voice low and pained. “you make me… feel things i shouldn’t. things that don’t make sense. i was…. fine before you.”

but you can hear the lie in his words, the way his voice wavers. you press your hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart, and you know — you know he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“it doesn’t have to make sense,” you whisper back. “it just has to be real.”

he exhales sharply, and for a moment, you feel his resolve crumble. his lips ghost over yours, hesitating, almost as if he’s giving you one last chance to walk away. but neither of you move.

and then he kisses you. hard. like he’s drowning and you’re his only breath. his grip tightens around you, desperate, rough, like he can’t get close enough. the kiss is bruising, intense, a war between need and restraint.

“you… drive me insane,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion. “and i hate you for it.” but the way he’s holding you, the way he kisses you again, says the exact opposite.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, breathless as you kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “i don’t care, ‘kuna.”

he pulls you into him again, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his forehead resting against yours as you both stand there, panting, holding onto each other like you might both fall apart if you let go.

“you better not run from me again,” you murmur, your voice cracking slightly.

he huffs a bitter laugh, his eyes closed as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “you’re the only one i’ll ever come back for.”

and before you knew it, a wedding hall sparkled with warm light, reflecting off chandeliers and casting a soft glow on the sea of guests. everyone was dressed to the nines, but the only thing that seemed to matter was the pair standing at the altar. you, in a stunning white dress, felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulders when sukuna’s rough hands slipped the wedding ring onto your finger. he looked handsome in his black tuxedo, the sharp lines of his face softening for once, as he gazed at you with an expression you’d never thought you’d see on him — vulnerability. yuuji, standing as one of the best men, was barely holding it together. his cheeks were puffed out as he bit down hard, trying to stifle his sobs, while choso gave him a nudge, as if to remind him to stay strong. but even choso couldn’t stop the trembling in his own bottom lip as sukuna leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss.

the hall exploded into cheers and applause, filling the air with laughter and joy. you’re now officially y/n l/n ryomen, and as you stood there in sukuna's arms, you couldn’t imagine it any other way. the warmth of his body pressed against yours felt like home — something you thought you’d never feel after everything you’d been through.

as the evening carried on, the wedding party only grew livelier. the music shifted into something slower, signaling the couple’s dance. you and sukuna stood in the middle of the floor, all eyes on you as you swayed gently to the music. sukuna’s arms were strong around you, and his grip tightened on your waist like he was afraid to let go, but his expression remained neutral, as if he was suppressing the surge of emotion within him.

“you’re doing it wrong,” you whispered, a small smile playing at your lips.

“shut up,” he grunted, though his lips twitched, betraying the beginnings of a smile. “just keep dancing.”

off to the side of the hall, uraume stood watching the scene unfold. their eyes, usually so cold, had softened just a little as they observed how sukuna held you, as if you were the most precious thing in his world. beside them, suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, though his usual smug demeanor had all but vanished.

“you’ll never tell her, will you,” uraume said quietly, their eyes still on you and sukuna as you danced.

suguru exhaled softly, looking down at the floor before lifting his gaze to meet uraume’s. “she knows,” he replied, his voice low, almost tired.

“and yet you’re letting her walk away?”

“you’re letting it happen on your end too, you know,” suguru countered, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness.

uraume’s brows furrowed slightly. “that’s not fair of you to say, geto.”

“is anything in life really fair?” suguru’s voice was laced with a resigned sadness, the weight of his words heavy in the air between them. he shifted his gaze back to you, a flicker of something unspoken in his dark eyes as he watched you laugh softly into sukuna’s chest. it was a sound he loved hearing, but one that wasn’t meant for him.

uraume didn’t respond, instead focusing on the way sukuna held you. “he really loves her,” they murmured, almost to themselves.

suguru nodded slightly, his jaw tightening. “yeah… he does.”

there was a moment of silence, the only sound being the soft music from the dance floor and the murmur of guests chatting around them. uraume broke the silence, their voice softer than usual. “it’s better this way, for both of them.”

“maybe,” suguru replied, his eyes never leaving you. “but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

uraume didn’t push further, knowing suguru’s heart wasn’t something easily mended, and instead shifted their gaze back to the happy couple. the wedding may have been a celebration, but to the two watching from the sidelines, it was a bittersweet reminder of what could never be.

as the dance ended and the crowd erupted into applause again, sukuna leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you whispered something only he could hear. he smiled — a rare, genuine smile — as he tugged you closer to him, the world around you fading away.

across the room, suguru turned away, letting the noise of the wedding drown out the quiet ache in his chest.

the sound of applause and laughter faded into the background as you pulled away from sukuna after the dance. his lips brushed your forehead softly, his hand lingering on your waist as he watched you with that familiar intensity. "go talk to him," he murmured, his voice gruff but knowing.

you gave him a grateful smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “i’ll be back,” you promised, before turning toward where suguru stood, half-hidden in the shadows near the back of the hall.

he had been watching you the entire time. his arms were crossed, a distant smile tugging at his lips as you approached, but there was something unmistakably bittersweet in his eyes. the smile didn’t quite reach them, as if he was holding back everything he truly felt, tucked safely behind that calm exterior.

“hey,” you said softly, stopping a few steps in front of him.

“hey,” he replied, his voice gentle. the weight of all the unspoken words between you both hung in the air. he uncrossed his arms, standing a bit straighter, but there was a sense of quiet acceptance in his posture. he didn’t need to say it; you both knew what this moment was.

"so..." you started, feeling the warmth of the room seep into your skin, but somehow it didn't reach the ache forming in your chest. "i just wanted to thank you."

he raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a soft smile. “thank me? what for?”

“for everything,” you said, stepping closer. “for being there, for helping me through all the hard times. i don’t think i could’ve done it without you. persephone itself wouldn’t have been there without you.”

he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “you give me too much credit. you’ve always had the strength. i just helped you see it.” his voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying the emotions he kept buried deep inside.

you took another step closer, so close now you could feel his presence like a comforting warmth. “suguru, you mean more to me than you realize. i wouldn’t be standing here right now, happy, if it wasn’t for you.”

his eyes softened, but the sadness remained. “i’m just glad you're happy, vino.” his nickname for you felt heavy with nostalgia, a remnant of the time when he was your closest confidant, your anchor.

"i am happy," you whispered, your eyes searching his. "but… you’re part of that happiness, too. i need you to know that.”

he held your gaze for a moment, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions — regret, love, and something deeper, something that had always remained unspoken between the two of you. "i know," he said quietly. "i know. and i promise i’m okay with it. really." his voice was soft, but firm, as if he were reassuring not only you but himself.

there was a long pause, filled with the quiet sounds of the wedding behind you, but neither of you moved. finally, suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i always knew you’d end up with him,” he admitted, his tone light, though his eyes carried a hint of sadness. “he’s what you need.”

“i don’t want you to think you’re losing me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly as you reached for his hand. "because you’re not."

he hesitated for a moment, then intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly. “i’m not losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “because i’ll always be here for you. you know that, right?”

you nodded, your thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. "always," you echoed.

suguru took a deep breath, his expression softening as he looked down at your hands, your pinkies brushing against each other. and then, slowly, deliberately, he hooked his pinky with yours, a silent promise that transcended words.

“a promise,” he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet resolve. “no matter what happens, we’re in this together. you and me.”

your heart clenched at the simple, yet profound gesture. a promise, not of love in the romantic sense, but of loyalty, of friendship, of everything the two of you had built over the years. no matter how things changed, no matter how life pulled you in different directions, you would always have this.

“a promise,” you whispered back, your pinkies interlocking tightly, sealing the bond you both knew would never fade.

suguru smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. "i’m happy for you," he said, his voice low but steady. "you deserve this, all of it."

you squeezed his hand gently, holding on for just a little longer. "thank you, suguru. for everything."

his grip tightened, just for a moment, before he let go, the weight of the world lifting off both your shoulders. "go on," he said, nodding toward sukuna, who stood waiting for you at the other side of the room, his gaze fixed on the two of you.

you smiled softly at suguru, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning away. as you walked back to sukuna, you knew that whatever the future held, you and suguru would always share this unbreakable bond. a promise, made with intertwined pinkies and hearts too full of memories to ever forget.

and in the background, as suguru watched you walk away, he felt at peace for the first time in a long time. your happiness was his happiness, even if it meant you were with someone else.

while you spoke quietly with suguru, sukuna found himself in a conversation he didn’t anticipate: a one-on-one with your mother. she was elegant and composed, warm yet casual – a far cry from woman at your new year’s party. she was standing just at the edge of the reception area, sipping on champagne, her eyes fixed on you and suguru.

“mrs. l/n,” sukuna greeted, a surprising softness to his voice as he approached. there was respect in his posture, and though sukuna had built a reputation for being intimidating, he knew when to tread carefully.

she turned toward him, smiling slightly. “ryomen.” her voice was calm, unreadable. she had a presence that reminded sukuna a lot of you — strong, resilient, but there was a gentle warmth beneath the surface. "come to make your case?”

sukuna’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “i think i’ve already made it.”

your mother raised an eyebrow. “have you now? a man like you, with a past like yours, has a lot to prove when it comes to loving my daughter.”

sukuna didn’t flinch. he’d been expecting this. “i do,” he agreed, his voice steady. “and i’m not going to pretend like i haven’t screwed things up in the past. but she knows me — better than anyone. she sees what i’ve become.”

her gaze lingered on him for a moment, thoughtful, weighing. “she does,” she finally said. “and she’s always been a good judge of character. but i’m not worried about her judgment. i’m worried about yours.”

sukuna’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “i won’t ever let her down again,” he promised. “i know what she’s been through, and i know what i put her through. but i’ve changed. elysium...everything i’ve done, it’s for her.”

your mother took another sip of her champagne, her eyes softening as she studied him. “i know,” she said quietly, and sukuna’s eyes widened just slightly in surprise. “i’ve seen the changes in you. starting elysium? helping her get back on her feet? it’s not something the old sukuna would’ve done. i’ve seen the way you’ve fought for her.”

sukuna nodded, a rare flicker of vulnerability flashing across his features. “she saved me too,” he admitted, almost reluctantly. “in more ways than i can count. i owe her my life, and i’ll spend the rest of it making sure she never doubts that.”

your mother was silent for a moment, and then she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “you sound like a man in love.”

“i am.” sukuna’s response was instant, no hesitation in his voice. “i love her more than anything.”

“that’s good to hear,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “because that’s what she deserves. a man who will put her first, who will take care of her, and who will cherish her.”

“i will,” sukuna promised, and there was a fierce determination in his voice. “i’ll protect her. always.”

your mother’s gaze softened further, and she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “then i have no doubts,” she said. “you’ve earned her trust, and now...you have mine.”

sukuna swallowed hard, feeling a strange sense of gratitude well up inside him. “thank you,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “i won’t let you down.”

she nodded, her expression warm, almost motherly. “you’d better not. because if you do, i’ll be the first one at your door.”

sukuna let out a low, appreciative chuckle. “understood, mrs. l/n.”

your mother smiled softly. “you know,” she began, her tone lightening just slightly, “you and i...we both know she’s strong. but even the strongest people need someone to lean on. take care of her, ryomen. don’t just protect her — make her happy.”

he looked at her, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “that’s all i want,” he said. “to keep her mine. to keep her happy.”

there was a moment of quiet understanding between them, and for the first time, sukuna felt the weight of this responsibility in a way he hadn’t before. he wasn’t just marrying you; he was being entrusted with your entire life, your heart, your happiness. and somehow, in that moment, standing there with your mother, he felt worthy of it.

as the sounds of laughter and music filled the hall once more, sukuna took a step back, a rare softness in his eyes. “i’ll make sure she knows every day,” he added, his voice lower now, more personal. “she’s everything to me. and i’ll spend my life proving that.”

your mother smiled once more, her eyes filled with the kind of warmth only a mother could have. “then i’m glad she has you,” she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before turning back to the celebration. “welcome to the family, ryomen.”

and as she walked away, sukuna let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. it felt...right. for the first time, he wasn’t the ruthless, business tycoon. he was the man who would spend his life making you happy, keeping you his. he was entrusted with a responsibility that felt almost sacred, and for the first time, he truly believed he was worthy of it.

he turned his head, his eyes catching yours across the room as you held suguru’s hand in a quiet moment of friendship. a promise, not only to suguru, but to yourself, to your mother, to everyone in your life. and sukuna? he would be the man to keep it.

and with that, he allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t in years — a deep, all-consuming sense of peace.

while all the heartfelt conversations were happening elsewhere, yuuji, choso, and uraume were seated together at a table near the back of the reception hall. yuuji had a wide grin on his face, his eyes bright with excitement as he nudged choso with his elbow.

“so, big bro, you’re next in line, right?” yuuji teased, his grin only widening when he saw the unimpressed look on choso’s face.

choso scoffed, rolling his eyes. “please, i can’t even get a full night of sleep, and you’re talking about marriage?”

yuuji, ignoring the deflection, leaned in closer, whispering dramatically, “you’re not getting any younger, bro. you’ll be the one walking down the aisle next! i can feel it.”

“yeah, right,” choso snorted, flicking yuuji’s forehead in retaliation. “you should focus on getting that degree before you start acting like a grandpa, yuuji. you’ve got enough on your plate without playing cupid.”

uraume, who had been sitting quietly, observing the two brothers with their usual composed demeanor, let out an unexpected chuckle at choso’s remark. the sound of uraume laughing — a rare occurrence — caught both yuuji and choso off guard.

“uraume?” yuuji blinked, clearly surprised. “did you just laugh?”

uraume’s expression remained neutral, though their eyes sparkled slightly. “it’s just...you do have a tendency to take on more than you can handle, yuuji. perhaps choso is right. focus on one thing at a time.”

yuuji pouted, crossing his arms. “you guys are ganging up on me! what happened to wedding day joy? isn’t this supposed to be a celebration? and choso, come on, don’t act like you don’t want to settle down!”

choso raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “who said anything about settling down? you’re getting way ahead of yourself.”

yuuji leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. “so, no blind dates then? i mean, you’ve gotta be thinking about it, right? someone’s gotta sweep you off your feet, choso.”

choso shot him an incredulous look. “blind dates? seriously? i’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

yuuji, ever the instigator, pressed on, “oh, come on! you never know. what if someone amazing is just waiting out there for you? don’t tell me you’re going to be single forever.”

uraume, joining the conversation with their usual calm tone, added, “perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea. it’s not as if you’re without prospects.”

choso narrowed his eyes suspiciously at uraume. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re dedicated, reliable,” uraume replied, their tone neutral but pointed. “qualities people find appealing in a partner.”

yuuji jumped in again, clearly enjoying himself. “see? even uraume agrees! and besides, you’d look great all dressed up for a date.”

choso sighed heavily, shaking his head. “this conversation is ridiculous.”

“no, it’s not!” yuuji protested, flashing him a grin. “in fact, i think it’s a great idea. i mean, there are tons of great girls out there. or guys, if that’s more your thing. you just need a little push.”

uraume, surprising them both again, said, “it wouldn’t hurt to consider it, choso. it’s not as though blind dates are binding.”

choso stared at uraume, slightly betrayed. “you too? i thought you were the reasonable one.”

yuuji chuckled, clapping his hands together. “it’s settled then! choso, you’re going on a blind date. we’ll make it happen.”

choso groaned, burying his face in his hands. “this is going to be a disaster.”

but even as he sighed, the corner of his lips twitched up, a small smile betraying his amusement. maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny part of him that didn’t hate the idea after all.

as the reception wound down and the soft buzz of laughter and conversation filled the air, sukuna stood at the center of the room, glass in hand, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. he had never been one for sentimentality, never a man of soft words or tender moments. but tonight, with you by his side, his wife, and the closest people in his life surrounding him, he couldn’t help but feel something stir deep within. a sense of fulfillment. of family.

he cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the hum of the room. the murmurs died down, and everyone turned to face him, anticipation hanging in the air. the spotlight seemed to cast an almost softer glow around him as he raised his glass higher.

“i don’t do speeches,” he began, his usual gruffness tinged with something softer tonight, “so don’t expect this to be long.”

you stood by his side, smiling up at him, your hand resting gently on his arm. he caught your gaze for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at you — his wife. a title that still felt surreal in the most comforting way possible.

“but today’s a day for firsts, isn’t it?” he said, glancing around the room. “and… hell, i guess i have some things to say.”

his eyes moved to suguru, standing a few steps away with a drink in his hand. the man was quiet, his usual composed face betraying none of the swirling emotions underneath. but sukuna knew. he always knew. suguru, for all his frustration, was a brother in this strange, twisted way. there was a silent understanding between them, a recognition of what they both had — and didn’t have. sukuna nodded in his direction, subtle but meaningful.

“suguru,” sukuna’s voice was almost thoughtful, “you’ve been there for her, longer than i have. i know that. and as much as i hate to admit it, you’re a part of this too. you’re family.” suguru’s eyes flickered with surprise for a brief second, then a faint smile tugged at his lips. he raised his glass back to sukuna, silently acknowledging the unspoken truth between them.

then sukuna’s gaze shifted to yuuji, sitting at a table with choso and uraume, already smiling that bright, goofy smile that had melted through even sukuna’s cold exterior over the years. yuuji, the kid who without even trying, became one of the few people he cared for.

“and yuuji,” sukuna smirked slightly, “you’ve been annoying as hell, but you’re also one of the best things that’s happened to me.” yuuji’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment, his grin growing even wider as he nodded enthusiastically, looking like he might burst into tears at any second. “you’ve made things… fun.”

next, choso — the quiet brother, always standing in the background, but never unnoticed. sukuna’s eyes met his, and the two of them shared a look of understanding. they were alike in many ways, silent protectors who spoke more with their actions than with words.

“choso,” sukuna said, his voice dropping just slightly, “you’ve been a steady hand in this chaos we call life. a brother in more ways than one. don’t let yuuji drag you into anything stupid.”

choso chuckled softly, shaking his head as he lifted his glass, his lips quirking into a rare smile. “i’ll try,” he muttered under his breath.

then there was uraume, standing stoically off to the side, watching the entire scene with their usual calm detachment. but sukuna knew better. uraume had been there from the beginning, loyal to a fault, and though they didn’t show it, he knew they cared deeply for him and you. they’d become more than just his right hand; they’d become a confidant, a guardian of his family.

“uraume,” sukuna said, his tone firm but warm, “you’ve always had my back. i don’t say this often, but thank you. for everything.” uraume’s gaze softened just slightly, their lips pressing into a thin line as they gave a small nod, no words needed between them.

then, sukuna’s eyes found yours again, and for a moment, the entire room faded into the background. it was just you and him. the woman who had turned his life upside down, who had dragged him into something so terrifying, so real, that he had no choice but to embrace it. love.

“and you,” sukuna said, his voice softening in a way that only you got to hear, “you’ve made me better, even when i didn’t want to be. i can’t promise that i’ll always be good at this. at… us. but i’ll try. i’ll always try for you.”

your heart swelled at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you squeezed his arm gently, whispering, “that’s all i need.”

finally, sukuna turned to your mother, who had been watching the entire scene with a knowing smile. she had always been wary of him, and rightfully so. but now, as she looked at him, there was something like approval in her eyes. sukuna met her gaze with a rare vulnerability, bowing his head slightly in respect.

“i know i’m not the son-in-law you imagined,” sukuna said, his voice gruff again but filled with sincerity, “but i’ll take care of her. of them. i swear it.”

your mother’s smile grew, and she raised her glass in return, her voice soft but firm. “i know you will, sukuna. you’ve proven that already.”

sukuna straightened, his chest swelling with a strange sense of pride. it wasn’t often he sought anyone’s approval, but hers meant something. it meant that he’d truly earned his place in your life, in your family.

he took a deep breath, looking around the room one last time, taking in the faces of the people who mattered most to him. “so, here’s to family,” he said, raising his glass high, his voice steady, “the one we’re born into, and the one we make.”

the room erupted into cheers, glasses clinking together as everyone raised their drinks in a toast. the warmth of the moment enveloped the space, a full-circle moment for everyone who had been part of the journey.

as the night went on, you and sukuna stole a quiet moment together, standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching your friends and family laughing and celebrating. sukuna wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, his lips brushing against your ear.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words so soft that only you could hear them.

you smiled, leaning into him as you whispered back, “i love you too.”

and as you stood there, surrounded by the people who had become your family, you realized that this — all of it — was exactly where you were meant to be.

as the night drew to a close, you and sukuna bid your final goodbyes to your guests. suguru gave you a lingering smile, squeezing your hand in reassurance as his pinky briefly locked with yours. yuuji’s eyes shimmered with happy tears as he waved you off enthusiastically, and choso smiled, nodding in your direction. uraume gave you a small, stiff bow — their way of showing warmth. sukuna grunted in his usual fashion, a goodbye only he could pull off with such weight behind it.

you walked together, hand in hand, toward the hotel, the stars shimmering above like they were celebrating the night alongside you. once inside, you gasped dramatically, your hand flying to your chest in mock surprise as you stepped into your hotel suite. the room was nothing short of breathtaking — pure opulence. tall, floor-to-ceiling windows gave a panoramic view of the city’s skyline, sparkling against the deep midnight blue of the night. the room itself was decorated in warm tones of gold and cream, plush sofas, thick velvet curtains, and a massive bed adorned with silk sheets that looked almost too perfect to touch. a bottle of champagne sat chilled on a nearby table, along with rose petals that scattered elegantly across the floor.

"wow," you breathed out, eyes wide as you took it all in, "uraume really pulled out all the stops, huh."

before you could say more, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a firm, familiar chest. sukuna's low, gruff chuckle rumbled behind you as he hugged you tightly, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“uraume?” he muttered into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “woman, i’ll have you know i arranged this all by myself.” his voice was filled with a playful arrogance, and you couldn’t help but smile at the pride in his tone.

he shifted slightly, pressing his lips to your cheek in a soft, fleeting kiss before his teeth grazed your skin. “going to be spending the night with my wife,” he punctuated the title with a teasing nibble, and you couldn’t hold back the squeal that escaped your lips, laughter bubbling out of you as his grip tightened.

“sukuna!” you giggled, trying to wriggle free from his hold, but he wasn’t having it. with a mischievous glint in his eye, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs kicking lightly in the air as he spun you around toward the bed.

“oh no, you’re not getting away that easily,” he smirked, carrying you over to the bed as you laughed uncontrollably in his arms. the playfulness, the warmth between you two, filled the room, making it feel less like a grand hotel suite and more like the cozy heart of your new life together.

as sukuna laid you down gently on the bed, you looked up at him, his smirk softening into something more tender, more real. for all his arrogance, all his sharp edges, tonight was a reminder that he was yours. and you were his.

“my wife,” he repeated, softer this time, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

you both fell back onto the bed, lying side by side in a quiet, comfortable silence. neither of you felt the need to rush into anything; just being there, together, was enough for now. staring up at the ceiling, you let out a small sigh, your fingers lightly grazing the silk sheets beneath you.

"so," you broke the silence, your voice soft, "i’ve been meaning to ask you about the tattoos on your face.”

sukuna turned his head slightly to glance at you, one brow raising in that signature way of his. “what about them?”

“well, i was just wondering... what’s the story behind them?”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if dismissing the question. “bad high school decision. don’t overthink it,” he muttered, his voice nonchalant.

you giggled, not entirely convinced by his answer, and that’s when something clicked in your head. you turned your face to him, curiosity in your eyes. “wait a minute… choso has a similar marking on his nose. is that connected, too?”

sukuna smirked, his gaze flicking to the ceiling again. “yeah, same thing. it’s a tradition of sorts. something we did back then. me, choso.. thought it’d make us look tough or whatever.”

“and did it?” you asked, teasingly.

“hell yeah,” he answered, though there was a playful glint in his eyes that told you he was amused by the memory.

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, the sound filling the room. “so what other bad decisions did you make, mister tough guy?”

he turned to you again, this time with a sly smile on his lips. there was a brief pause before he replied, his voice lower, softer. “you.”

you blinked in surprise, and before you could react, he added with a smirk, “but you’re the best bad decision i’ve ever made.”

your heart fluttered at his words, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. you knew it was sukuna’s way of expressing something deeper — his own version of affection. there was something about how he framed it, how he spoke with such a bluntness that always left you feeling more seen, more known, than anyone else could make you feel.

you playfully nudged him with your elbow. “you’re such an idiot.”

he chuckled, a rare sound from him, before his hand found yours, interlocking your fingers as you both lay there, side by side. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward but peaceful, the two of you lost in thought, yet somehow connected in the most intimate of ways.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself smiling, your eyes growing heavier, feeling safe and loved. you had never imagined this life — the twists, the turns, the bad decisions that led you here. but lying next to sukuna, his hand in yours, you couldn’t help but think it was all worth it.

because sometimes, the best decisions come from the worst ones.

you burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the lavish hotel room as sukuna, ever the provocateur, leaned in closer, his body caging you against the soft pillows.

“if you tell me you’ve had sex with someone before me, i’ll be pissed off,” he declared, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

your eyes widened in mock shock, a playful grin spreading across your face. “sukuna!” you gasped, unable to suppress your laughter. “how could you even ask that?”

“what?” he replied, his voice smooth and mischievous. “just trying to gauge my competition here.”

you wriggled beneath him, your heart racing as his weight pressed gently against you. “there’s no competition! you’re the one i chose!”

“you better mean that,” he said, his expression turning momentarily serious, the playful glint in his eyes still dancing there. “because if you’ve got a whole list of guys i should be worried about —”

“i swear, it’s only ever been you,” you interrupted, your laughter subsiding as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of your words hanging in the air between you. “i’m not even kidding.”

his lips curved into a smirk, a sense of triumph washing over him. “good. just remember that,” he said, leaning down, his breath warm against your skin. “you’re mine, and i’m not sharing.”

“not that i’d want to,” you murmured, your pulse quickening as his gaze bore into yours. the playful banter hung between you like a delicate thread, both of you enjoying the sweet tension that filled the air.

“smart choice,” he teased, and in a moment of spontaneity, he dipped his head to press a teasing kiss to your lips, his hands framing your face as he pulled back to gauge your reaction.

your cheeks flushed, the laughter from before transforming into something deeper, more intimate. “you’re such a dork,” you said, shaking your head at him, but there was no malice in your words — just affection.

“your dork,” he corrected, grinning. “and don’t forget it.”

sukuna shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more intently. “you sure you want to continue on with this?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine concern. “i don’t want to push you if you’re tired.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his unexpected display of care. “is that really you, ryomen sukuna, asking if i’m okay?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “i never took you for the caring type.”

he scoffed, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “don’t get used to it, woman. it’s just common courtesy,” he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “besides, someone has to make sure you’re not passing out on me.”

you giggled, enjoying the banter as much as the moment itself. “common courtesy, huh? i didn’t realize you had such a soft spot.”

“soft spot?” he repeated, feigning offense as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “i’ll have you know that i’m a very tough guy.”

“sure you are,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes, leaning back against the pillows and crossing your arms. “but it’s nice to see this side of you. who knew you could be so… sweet?”

“don’t push it,” he warned, though the hint of a smile remained on his face, clearly enjoying the teasing. “you might just ruin my tough guy reputation.”

“oh, please,” you replied, grinning back at him. “you’ll always be the tough guy. this is just a little added bonus.”

“bonus, huh?” he mused, his expression shifting into something more serious for a moment. “well, just know that i can be tough when it counts. but for you? i can make an exception.”

your heart warmed at his words, a soft silence enveloping you both as you contemplated the depth behind them. sukuna’s gaze held yours, the playful edge now tinged with something deeper, and you could feel the shift in the air around you.

“so, what’s it gonna be?” he asked, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief. “are you ready to keep going, or do you need a nap?”

“i’m definitely ready,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “let’s see just how caring you can be, sukuna.”

he chuckled, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark. “challenge accepted.”

sukuna’s cocky facade didn’t quite match the awkwardness of his hands, the way his fingers grazed over your skin with hesitation, like he was trying to remember the motions. it was unlike him to be so uncertain, and the clumsiness in his movements had you biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“sukuna,” you teased softly, glancing up at him with a warm smile, “you don’t have to be so shy, you know.”

his brow furrowed in an attempt to stay composed, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him. “shut up, woman,” he huffed, his voice gruff, “i know what i’m doing.” the confidence was there, but you could feel the subtle tremor in his touch. his grip was firm, yet careful — an odd mixture of control and restraint.

he wasn’t used to this. not with you. not with someone who mattered.

you felt a sense of tenderness for him in that moment, seeing him vulnerable like this. his tough exterior was crumbling, piece by piece. “you can touch me, you know,” you whispered, offering him the reassurance he didn’t ask for but clearly needed.

“‘m getting to it,” he practically barked, frustration lacing his voice as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. your giggle slipped out, and though it earned a glare from him, there was no real bite behind it. it was adorable — watching the all-powerful ryomen sukuna struggle with something so simple.

he fumbled with the fabric of your dress, clearly annoyed. “stupid dress gettin’ in the way,” he muttered, gripping it with one of his large hands, bunching it up to reveal your legs. the cool air hit your skin, and instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, a wave of self-consciousness creeping in.

the sound that left sukuna’s throat was a deep, low growl. “don’t hide yourself,” he ordered, his voice rough but lacking malice. he wasn’t used to this — having to make someone feel safe — but the sincerity in his words made you relax just a little.

“i know, but it’s still kinda weird —” you began, your voice soft.

“it’s only weird if you make it weird,” he grumbled, clearly fumbling for something reassuring to say, though the way he said it was anything but delicate. you could tell he was out of his element, but the effort was there, and that was enough to make your heart swell.

he paused, his gaze locking with yours for a long moment. there was something in his eyes, a softness that didn’t fit the man everyone else saw. “you sure you wanna do this?” sukuna’s voice was quieter this time, carrying a weight of concern that wasn’t typical of him.

“of course i want to!” you blurted out, a bit too fast, and his lips twitched into a grin before a low, genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest. it was rare to hear him laugh like that — so unguarded — and it made your heart skip a beat. your own embarrassment melted away, replaced by the warmth of the moment.

“then who am i to deny my wife what she wants?” he said, his tone light but filled with affection. the word “wife” rolled off his tongue with such ease, but the meaning behind it was still sinking in for both of you.

you grinned, shaking your head at his smugness. “you’ll never get tired of saying that, will you?”

“never,” sukuna replied without hesitation, his grin wide and proud as he unbuckled his belt and tossed his suit jacket aside, the movements more confident now. but there was still that tenderness in his actions — a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

as he leaned in to kiss you, the rest of the world faded away. the moment was just for the two of you. despite the teasing, despite the clumsiness, there was a sense of reverence in the way sukuna touched you—a reverence that made you feel like you were the most important person in his world. this wasn’t just about passion or desire. it was about trust, about sharing something real.

and as he kissed you again, you realized that for all of his roughness, all of his pride, sukuna was holding you like you were his most precious possession. like you were the best decision he had ever made.

he pulled back, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “you’re the best bad decision i’ve ever made,” he murmured, the words almost too soft for someone like him. but they were raw, honest.

your chest fluttered, the weight of his admission settling in. with a soft laugh, you reached up, brushing a hand against his jaw. “well, if that’s the case, i guess i’m happy to be your worst one.”

he smirked, leaning into your touch. “yeah? good. ‘cause you’re stuck with me now, woman.”

and for once, you didn’t mind the idea of being stuck at all.

the two of you lay bare before each other, the air thick with anticipation. there was a vulnerability in the moment that hadn’t been there before, an unspoken trust that made your heart race.

“‘kuna,” you breathed out, voice soft but filled with a hint of playfulness, “help me take the veil off —"

“nah,” sukuna interrupted with a devilish grin, his sharp eyes raking over your body. “looks sexy,” he added, pulling you closer to him, his large hands pressing against your back, making the warmth of his skin meld into yours. you could feel the strength in his hold, but there was a gentleness there too, a reverence in how he handled you.

the contrast between his rough personality and the care he took with you was striking, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and cherished all at once. his fingers traced over your skin, teasing but careful, as if he was savoring every second.

“you ready?” sukuna asked, his voice low, a rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“born ready — oh shit, not ready!” you gasped out, voice shooting up in surprise at the sudden sensation between your legs, the shock of his intrusion making your body react instinctively as you scrambled to hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

his chuckle rumbled against your chest, though his brows furrowed in a mix of focus and concern. “shit, sorry,” he muttered, grunting softly as he forced himself to slow down, his voice laced with restraint. “just hold on, okay? it gets better.”

you nodded, your breath catching in your throat as the initial shock settled. “mm, o-okay,” you whined softly, trying to adjust, the tension in your body easing as you pressed your forehead against his. sukuna’s lips ghosted over your temple, his breath hot as he whispered a mixture of praise and reassurance.

“that’s it... you’re doin’ good,” he rasped, his voice gruff but tender, the way he spoke to you making your heart melt despite the intensity of the moment. his hands stayed steady on your hips, holding you close, grounding you. “just relax… i’ve got you.”

you breathed out shakily, your fingers clutching his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. despite the rough exterior, despite the teasing, sukuna was holding you with care. his usual bravado faded as he focused entirely on you, the rhythm of his movements slow and deliberate, making sure you were with him every step of the way.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable in its tone, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort.

“yeah,” you whispered, feeling the sincerity in his concern. “yeah, i’m okay.”

his smirk returned, just a little softer this time. “good… ‘cause i’m not gonna stop now,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, sealing his words with a touch that was as possessive as it was tender.

“sukuna, slow down!” you squealed, the sudden intensity making your body jolt.

he let out a deep, rough laugh, voice strained, but dripping with cockiness. “can’t. fuckin’. slow. down,” he growled, each word punctuated with a particularly harsh movement that made you grip onto him tighter. it wasn’t enough to hurt, but enough to push you to your limit, sending shockwaves through your body.

“safe word is you slapping me,” sukuna panted out, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he thrust into you, the sensation overwhelming.

“slap you?” you echoed, trying to make sense of his words as you fought against the fogginess clouding your mind. your voice wavered between disbelief and amusement as you clung onto him for dear life, barely able to form coherent thoughts with how his body was taking over your senses.

he grunted in response, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you closer, hips moving with a reckless pace that made your breath hitch. “’m dead serious,” he groaned. “slap me on the face if you want me to stop.”

“that’s just gonna make you wanna go more!” you whined, your words slurring slightly as the pleasure built higher, threatening to send you over the edge.

his lips twisted into a grin, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “hm, touché,” he chuckled, the sound of his voice sending another wave of heat through you. his grin never faltered, even as he leaned down, pressing a rough kiss against your lips, muffling the moan that escaped you.

“guess we’ll just have to keep going,” sukuna teased, his breath ragged but full of challenge. the way his hands roamed your body, how he seemed to know exactly how far he could push you — it was intoxicating, overwhelming in the best way. and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, holding on, you knew there was no stopping now.

sukuna’s breath hitched as his movements became erratic, that cocky confidence of his faltering just a bit. “you know i really fuckin’ love you, right?” he panted out between rough breaths, his voice heavy with emotion, though still dripping with that signature arrogance.

“yeah, i can tell,” you gasped out breathlessly, an airy laugh escaping your lips despite the intensity of the moment. the way he had you pinned against him, completely overwhelmed by his strength and the rough tenderness in his movements, left no room for doubt. he had a way of making even the filthiest declarations sound almost sweet.

“good... just wanted to — fuck — m-make sure,” sukuna stammered, a crack in his usual composure as his voice grew rougher. his body was betraying him, the familiar hot pull of release starting to pool in his belly, and he was losing control quicker than he wanted to admit.

you could feel the change in him — the way his grip on you tightened, the way his breathing grew even more ragged, the urgency in every movement. “'kuna, are you —”

“let me focus!” sukuna cut you off with a strained grunt, his brows furrowing as he struggled to hold onto his composure. his hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer, burying himself deeper as his control slipped more and more. the desperation in his tone was almost endearing, in a very sukuna way — he was trying so hard to maintain that cocky, cool front, but the way he was clinging to you, the way his body trembled slightly, gave him away.

you couldn’t help but smirk through the haze of pleasure, your own body shaking as you ran your hands down his back, holding him just as tight. “need help focusing?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, still trying to catch your breath as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, groaning lowly in response.

“you think you're so funny,” he huffed against your skin, his breath warm and heavy, his teeth grazing lightly over your pulse as his pace quickened, losing himself in you. “gonna be even funnier when i’m done with you…”

his threat was empty, but the way he was holding onto you, the raw need and affection behind each ragged breath, each movement, made you feel like you were all he ever needed. the world outside faded, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other, hearts pounding in sync.

sukuna’s voice came out in a strangled groan, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising as his control began to slip completely. “can i — oh fuck — inside?” his voice cracked, a rare show of vulnerability that made your heart race faster than it already was.

“y-yeah, just —” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, “just do it quick, i don’t think i  can — ah — hold on long.”

he grunted in response, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes fluttered shut, trying so hard to keep it together, but failing miserably. “yeah, i know, i gotch — oh fuck, y/n…” he choked out, his entire body trembling as he felt you clench around him, pulling him deeper, and the way you were responding to him wasn’t helping his already fraying composure. “you’re not making this e-easier f’me,” he practically whimpered, his usual gruffness nowhere to be found now.

he was unraveling. completely.

“just let it happen, ‘kuna,” you whispered, breathless, the nickname rolling off your tongue in a way that sent shivers down his spine. and that was all it took. the sound of his name, the way you said it — so raw, so intimate — was the final straw.

“fuck — y/n,” he grunted, his voice breaking as his hips slammed into yours, his pace becoming erratic, desperate. he buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin as his body tensed, shaking against you. the heat of him, the way he was holding you like he was afraid to let go — it made everything feel overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering right there on the edge too.

“‘kuna —” you moaned, your own body shuddering, your nails dragging down his back as you reached your peak, and the way you cried out his name sent him spiraling.

“shit,” sukuna choked out one last time, his whole body jerking as he finally let go, spilling into you with a groan that was both relief and overwhelming intensity. his grip on you tightened, like you were his anchor, grounding him as he rode out his high, shuddering against you, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

for a moment, neither of you moved. just the sound of your heavy breathing filled the room, the only sign of life. sukuna was still holding you close, his face pressed into your neck, the sweat on his skin cooling as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away. his body was heavy on top of yours, but it felt comforting, reassuring, like he didn’t want to let you go.

“fuck…” he muttered, still panting, his voice hoarse, but there was something almost tender in it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “you okay?”

you nodded weakly, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips. “i’m more than okay, ‘kuna.” you squeezed his shoulders lightly, your hands tracing slow patterns on his skin, both of you still wrapped in the aftermath of the moment.

“best bad decision i ever made,” he muttered, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he kissed the side of your neck, his voice rough, but so warm now, so content.

“you’ll never get tired of saying that, will you?” you teased, echoing your earlier words, your heart swelling with affection as you held him close.

“never,” he grinned, his lips brushing yours in a slow, languid kiss, filled with everything he couldn’t quite put into words. “not when it’s true.”

“now, about that round two…” “sukuna!”

epilogue.

“so how’s —?” choso’s voice filters through the phone, casual but carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“my wife? she’s good,” sukuna replies, a soft chuckle escaping as he glances at the photo wall in front of him, the space having blossomed with new memories. there’s the photo from your wedding, the two of you looking surprisingly at ease, captured in a rare, tender moment. next to it, the maternity shoot where you glowed with happiness, cradling your growing belly. and then the grainy image, snapped by yuuji, of you in the hospital ward holding your newborn. sukuna’s own figure, absent in the frame, was a choice — he had turned away, pretending to be too occupied with something else while tears pricked his eyes.

as his gaze moves across the wall, he finds himself smiling at the other photos: uraume, holding your child awkwardly, their expression uncharacteristically soft as your baby girl beamed at them. another picture shows suguru, his grimace exaggerated as your daughter gleefully yanked at his hair while riding on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his locks with innocent mischief. and there’s one of yuuji and choso, each kissing your daughter’s cheeks, her laugh caught perfectly mid-giggle. each photo, a snapshot of love, family, and time.

he still can’t believe he’s come this far, that he’s standing in front of a wall filled with memories of a family he never thought he’d have. it used to be a word that left a bitter taste in his mouth, something he rejected. but now? now it feels…right.

“you should get her over to our home sometime. it’s been a while since the two — i mean, three of you have come over,” choso’s voice echoes through the phone, pulling sukuna back to the moment.

sukuna chuckles softly at the slip. it’s still taking everyone, including his own brother, time to adjust to the idea that ryomen sukuna — the feared, ruthless business tycoon— is now a father. a father to a beautiful baby girl named aiko ryomen y/l/n. she looked so much like you, but that smirk — the one that mirrored his own — was unmistakable, even at just a year old. she had his fire, his intensity, but you tempered it with your warmth, creating a perfect balance that he never knew he needed.

“only when you get your girl,” sukuna teases, his voice lighter than it used to be.

“deal,” choso replies, amusement lacing his words.

“deal,” sukuna echoes, his smile lingering long after the call ends.

as he tucks his phone into his pocket, sukuna’s gaze moves across the wall of photos, his eyes fall on the most recent addition, one that stands out among the rest — a family photo taken just last month. it’s larger than the others, framed carefully and placed in the center of the collection.

in the photo, you’re holding aiko, who’s perched on your hip, her tiny hands gripping your arm with that signature smirk plastered across her chubby face. you’re smiling, your expression soft and warm, the love for your family evident in your eyes. standing beside you is sukuna, his arm resting casually on your shoulder, a slight smile on his face — barely noticeable, but it’s there, a glimpse of the man who hides his tenderness behind walls of cold arrogance.

beside him, uraume stands stiffly, as they always do, but there’s something softer in their expression, their usual rigid posture relaxed as they hold aiko’s hand gently. choso and yuuji stand next to them, both leaning in with matching wide smiles, yuuji making a peace sign with his fingers while choso, ever the protector, stands with a hand on yuuji’s shoulder. and then there’s suguru, who stands on the other side of you, his eyes crinkled with amusement as he looks down at aiko, who’s trying to reach for his hair — again.

it’s a chaotic picture, mismatched smiles and personalities blending together into something that feels almost surreal. a family — his family. the word rings in his mind as he stares at the photo, and for a moment, sukuna is overwhelmed. he never imagined this would be his life, that the ruthless, feared man he once was could stand among these people and feel…content. happy, even.

he used to think of himself as a lone wolf, someone who didn’t need or want anyone. but now, looking at this photo, he realizes how wrong he was. these people — each of them — have become a part of his world, his family, in ways he never thought possible.

his hand grazes the edge of the frame as he lets out a deep breath, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions he can barely name. gratitude, love, maybe even fear — fear of losing this, of somehow screwing it all up. but for once in his life, he pushes those thoughts away. he lets himself just be in this moment, soaking in the quiet joy that this family has brought him.

he doesn’t have to be perfect. he doesn’t have to have all the answers. he just has to be here — with you, with aiko, with everyone he cares about. and that, somehow, is enough.

turning away from the wall, sukuna leans against the window, staring out at the cityscape beyond. his heart, once so guarded, so hardened, feels lighter now, softer in a way he never thought possible.

it wasn’t easy to get here. there were fights, broken moments, regrets that lingered in the corners of his mind. but in the end, you stood by him. you saw past his flaws, his anger, his mistakes, and chose to love him anyway.

and he knows now — this is what life is about. it’s messy, chaotic, imperfect. but it’s real. and it’s his.

he turns back to the photo wall, his eyes lingering on the image of you and aiko, surrounded by the people who have become his family, and he smiles — a rare, genuine smile that only you have ever seen.

“all you need is a little bit of love in the mix,” he murmurs to himself, your words from years ago echoing in his mind.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s the truth he needed all along.

as the sun begins to set, casting a golden light across the room, sukuna stands there, feeling the weight of everything and nothing all at once. he has his family, his love, his life. and for the first time in a long, long time, he feels at peace.

fin.

while you're here, why not check out some fun facts about persephone that didn't make it to the final cut? ;D the "slap me" safe word with sukuna was inspired by @webism's kinktober post, make sure to check it out <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Smut, P in V intercourse, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie, angst, fighting.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello my babies, sorry for the like 2 hour delay, I've been crying after watching Atonement for the first time. I am unwell. I don't think I will ever be okay again lmao, I had to go watch Pride and Prejudice to make me feel better. Anyway, Enjoy ;) <3

Chapter 8: Boiling Point

Cregan ended up staying the night. Nothing sexually happened, but instead the man had held you against him the entire evening and whispered words of praise to you, assuring you that you were okay, and that things would be fine. 

When you woke the next morning, you had felt the need to apologise to Aemond, Cregan’s chat to you the night before still running laps in your mind. Aemond was not used to kindness, perhaps he didn’t know what to do with it, and if he wasn’t going to initiate the first steps, you might as well try. 

You didn’t want to have to spend the rest of your month in an awkward tension with the man you were living with. It was up to Aemond if he wanted to respond to the olive branch you would extend.

You snuck out of bed to leave the Stark man, still sleeping, hair half over his face, chest rising and falling heavily, behind you. You shut the door quietly with a click, eyes flitting up to find Aemond’s door still closed. 

Usually he was up by now. 

You moved to the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea, and a black coffee for Aemond. You weren’t sure how he took it, if he liked sugar or not, but decided that at least the attempt was worth something. Perhaps even speaking his own language, the tea he made you in the mornings your own interpretation of his civility. You hoped that the gesture portrayed the same meaning to him as it did to you.

But it was better than nothing.

You trudged to his door, tea and coffee in hand, steam winding its way off the two of them as you kicked softly at the wood in a knocking manner with your toes. 

Knock Knock.

Silence was the only thing that you could hear from the other side of the door. 

You knocked again, knock knock knock, shifting on your feet as you felt awkward and uncertain of what to do. You craned your head to look down the hall; His keys were still in the bowl.

Aemond was definitely in his room. 

You tried to knock again, knock knock knock, watching the door knob expectantly, hoping to see it be turned and opened, but it didn’t. Taking it as a sign that he did not wish to be disturbed, you placed the mug of coffee on the floor in front of his door. You sighed in disappointment, but ultimately retreated into your room with your tail tucked between your legs. 

If he wanted to speak with you, he would. 

Cregan stirred in your bed, looking comically large in your sheets as he watched you enter, smiling at you sleepily. You put your tea on the bedside table, and crawled in beside him, his large palms pulling you against him almost immediately, tucking your head beneath his chin in habit. He yawned quietly and rubbed smoothing gestures up and down your back.

Your soft knocking must have woken him up. And yet, he did not exit his room.

You laid together in bed, drinking your tea as you strained your ears to hear if Aemond had exited his room, desperate to speak to him. You knew that he was in the wrong, that what he had said was inexcusable, but you had said some nasty things too, and after what Cregan told you the night before, it all made sense to you.

All his nastiness, bitterness, and sudden bouts of hot and cold all made sense, and with the added mystery of Alys, that was becoming less of a mystery to you now, you began to somewhat understand the man that was Aemond Targaryen. 

It was hard to not sympathise with him. Hard to not try and understand the way that he was. The way he acted in the ways he did. How he was cold and aloof, not daring to let anyone close to him, and biting at anyone he deemed a threat; getting too close for comfort.

When you finally exited your room, Cregan sleepily following after you, you had given up waiting for anything to happen, for the sight of silver white hair to appear at your open bedroom door, or noises from within alert you to his movements. You walked past Aemond’s closed door, the now cold cup of coffee still sitting in front of it, steam long gone from the top, and a brown film having settled at the surface. You frowned at it, but opted to leave it. 

You had tried, and it was proof of your effort.

Aemond could come to you when he was ready.

But after three days had passed, it seemed that Aemond was in fact not ready to talk to you, and had become more illusive than the Lochness Monster. You hadn’t seen his silver hair and mismatched eyes since that night, and a web of anxiety began to tug at your stomach again.

When you got home from work that day, you ran straight to the shower, frustration from Larys’ leering caused your shoulders to have tensed so terribly, that you felt an oncoming knot as you rode the train home. You stood under the shower for what could have been an hour, not caring if the hot water ran out, having it on the highest setting possibly, digging your knuckles into your trapezius to try and work out the stress. 

By the time you had felt marginally calmer, your skin had wrinkled and pruned, and you had exited, spending extra time moisturising your body and fixing your hair, dressing into some pyjamas before you steadying yourself to face the music, making a promise to yourself that you would talk to him, and stay up all night if you had to. 

Aemond would be better than Larys.

You hoped.

You cooked your dinner slowly, ears pricking to listen for the door and his return home, shifting occasionally to look over your shoulder in the hopes that he would appear silently in the lounge room as he sometimes did. 

Anxiety and apprehension ate away at you, the ball of nervousness growing larger and larger the longer you waited. That nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave it, to just bask in the awkwardness of it all, but the other part of you longed for a connection with him, and to at least try to get through to him.

By the time you finished cooking, and ate your dinner in silence, keeping the TV on mute so that you could hear him approaching or if he tried to sneak back into the apartment, you had begun to grow rapidly tired, fingers digging into the sore muscle of your shoulder to try keep you awake. 

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft scraping of keys in the front door. You sat up straighter, turning your attention to the hallway as you listened to Aemond drop his keys into the bowl quietly and make his way down the hall.

His violet eye met yours and you watched breathlessly as he stilled, looking at you sitting straight and tall on the couch as you waited for him. And as you gazed at him, you felt your mouth go dry.

Aemond was in his black running shorts and running shoes, hair in a low and messy bun, the front of his hair slicked to his forehead from sweat. His silver chain was around his neck as it always was, glinting it the light of the room. 

But that was it.

That’s all Aemond wore.

Aemond was shirtless.

His stomach rippled as it tensed, porcelain skin glistening with sweat, a soft pink blush spreading across his chest and up his neck. A heat settled in your gut as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion.

The man blinked, abruptly turning his head away from you as he went straight to the kitchen, pulling down a glass of water quietly from the cupboard, filling it in the sink. The sound of the tap was loud in your ears.

You stood shakily, nervous and unsure of how to approach the conversation. Or even approach him. You didn’t know how he was going to react. What he was going to say or do. 

Would he reject you entirely? Turn nasty again? 

Or would he stare at you impassively and boredly?

You cleared your throat, stupid lump of anxiety stuck in the back of it as you stepped around the small coffee table and into the kitchen. Aemond’s back was still to you, shoulder blades moving as he drank, the bones of his ribs wrapped tightly with lean muscles, chest expanding with a deep inhale. 

“Hey, um. Can we talk?” You held your hands in front of your legs, turning your fingers against one another nervously. 

Gods, why did he make you so nervous? 

Aemond swallowed the water that was in his mouth, turning his head slightly to the side to indicate that he had heard you, though not audibly responding back, nor even moving to look at you, his back still to you as he moved to refill his glass again.

You opened your mouth to try again, to garner a reaction, a show that he was listening other than the slight tilt of his head like a parent who was disapproving of their child. But by the time you worked up the courage again to speak, the glass about half full, Aemond spoke.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Came his low response, almost drowned out by the sound of the running water.

Oh for fucks sake.

“I think there’s plenty to talk about, actually.” You argued softly.

You took a sighing breath and continued, Here goes nothing, “I think that we both owe each other an apology.”

Aemond turned off the tap with more force than what was needed, “What?”

You sighed, watching as he turned around to face you, brows narrowed as he looked down his nose at you. 

Was he surprised? Offended? 

Why was he looking at you as though he didn’t understand your intentions?

You swallowed, “About the other night. I think we both said some things that we didn’t mean.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, but he did not respond. 

Why was he being like this?

You brushed your hair away from your face roughly, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him.

Desperate, His words rang in your ear.

“I think,” You licked your lips, not sure how to go forward, “I think that what happened was not okay. And what you said to me was not okay. But what I said to you, was definitely not right either.” Another deep breath, trying to stem the rambling confession.

Why was this so hard? 

“And I wanted to apologise for that. I shouldn’t have brought her up, and I definitely shouldn’t have implied that you were at fault in your relationship with her. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, it’s none of my business, and I regret saying what I did.” You nibbled at your lip anxiously, watching as the Targaryen’s mouth twitched.

Silence curled around the two of you, and the longer you waited, the more you realised perhaps he thought you wished to continue. That perhaps he was waiting for you to say moe, or those two words that you felt suddenly begrudged to do.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I was disrespectful and rude, but I was hurting. That’s not an excuse, but I think it's a bit of an explanation. Or at least, I hope it is.” You parroted Cregan’s words.

Not an excuse, an explanation.

You stared at him for what felt like forever, watching as he breathed shallowly, leant back against the bench, fingers twitching over his glass of water. He took a sip, and then another, and you watched as you thought he was finding the words to say, as though he was thinking of different ways to apologise to you, but by the time the glass became half full it became more and more apparent that Aemond had no intentions to say anything.

No apology. 

No rebuttal. 

No thanks.

Nothing.

Anger began to simmer inside of you.

“Are you going to say anything?”

Silence. 

You shook your head sadly, pushing down the heat that rose in your chest, now was not the time to become angry, “I’m trying, Aemond. I’m really trying to be understanding, but you hurt me. You made me feel so used after what we did.” But the heat pushed its way through you; Shame, embarrassment, anger, “I don’t understand what I have done to warrant your anger. Please just tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can apologise and set things right. I don’t like this animosity between us, I don’t like feeling like I’m nothing in your eyes, that I’m lesser than or a nuisance.” You felt tears begin to build, “I don’t like feeling like I have to walk on eggshells in my own home, or that I have to worry about my roommates brother hating me. I don’t want Helaena to come home and have to deal with this mess.”

Aemond frowned deeply, setting down his glass on the kitchen bench, “I don’t hate you.”

Your brows cinched together in confusion, “Then why are you so cruel? You have been nothing but cold to me since you moved in. I’ve tried so hard to be nice, to-to include you in things I didn’t need to, but you give me nothing in return!”

Damn your anger. But you were wounded, and lashing out.

The silver haired man sucked his tongue loudly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Want from you?” You were confused, “Aemond, I want you to treat me with some basic human decency, and maybe, if I’m really lucky, have you apologise for calling me desperate after we- what we did.”

Aemond’s eye dragged over your face, sliding down your chest to watch the way you heaved worked up breaths. And yet he still stayed silent, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as he looked down at you.

A wave of hurt crashed over your head, and you scoffed, “Unbelievable. I don’t know why I even bothered.” You spun on your heel, moving to make your way back to your room. To go hide. To not let him see the hurt or the shame that you felt. To curl into your sheets and just disappear.

You don’t know why you thought things could change, that he could be kinder. 

You felt like a fool.

Aemond’s arm shot out and grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him. You turned, other hand trying to pry his fingers off of your wrist, the long digits not budging. 

“If you would just wait a second, instead of storming off again.” He growled in annoyance.

You recoiled in his grip, “How much longer do you want me to embarrass myself as I wait for you to say two fucking words? It’s not that hard, Aemond.”

His eye narrowed, “This stuff doesn’t come easy to me, if you-“

“-Spoken like a true asshole. ‘Apologising isn’t something I ever do.’” You mocked his tone, “Let go of me, Aemond, I’m done. I’m not playing your little games anymore. You can fuck off for all I care.”

Aemond did not let go, “You think this is a game?”

“What else would it be?”

The Targaryen’s eye flicked back and forth on your face. Yet he said nothing.

Digging your fingers into his hand you tried to tug yourself from his grip angrily, “Let go of me.” You tried to pull your wrist away again, Aemond’s grip getting tighter, “I said-“

“-I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke quietly.

You stared at him angrily, hand dropping from his own that gripped your wrist. 

“For?”

Aemond’s lip twitched, “For being a dick.”

“All together now.” You encouraged him, staring up at him in anger.

A brow lifted on his face as he looked down at you, “Now look who’s being the dick. I’m trying to apologise to you.”

“Shit fucking apology.” You snapped.

Aemond ran a hand through the front of his hair, messed and slick tresses sticking up in different ways, and yet he still looked ruggish- NO, “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n. I’m sorry, okay? You didn’t deserve that. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were. You were- sorry- are a fucking asshole who treats everyone around him like they’re beneath his designer shoe.”

“I don-“

“-‘I don’t’. You don’t know much do you?”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, “Look,” He all but growled, “I’m trying-“

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

You don’t know why you kept at it. You don’t know why you were provoking him, pushing him, not taking his shitty little apology and calling it a day, but it was just that. A shitty little apology, and it felt like there was no meaning behind the words nor promise of change. Like a chore he had been tasked to do.

He just made you so angry, all the damn time. His arrogance, his cock sure smirk, the way he even held himself. It was infuriating. Intoxicating. It-

No. Stop it.

The hand around your wrist tightened, and you watched as Aemond’s chest rose and fell sharply, cheek twitching. His face hardened as he looked down at you, and the tiny voice in the back of your brain screamed ‘Predator! Run!’ 

But you didn’t. 

“What else do you want me to do?” He said lowly, pushing himself off of the kitchen bench, his chest bumping into yours, “You want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

You don’t know why you said it, you don’t know why your brain even reacted the way it did, but there was something about Aemond that made you want to push him. Made you want to see him react. 

And so you goaded him.

“Yes.”

The tall silver haired man pressed a tongue in his cheek, “You want me to react, don’t you? Such a brat.”

You blinked. 

Fuck.

Aemond’s lip twitched as he watched you blanch, his head tilting to look down at you with his lone seeing eye. It sent shivers down your spine, and your core clenched instinctually around nothing. 

“You just keep being a bratty little bitch so that I be a dick to you, huh? Did you even want an apology? Or did you want me to put you in your place? Finish what we started?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to make a point that you did want that apology, but Aemond pulled you forward with his grip on your wrist, the other hand gripping the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours. 

It was all teeth and desperation, nipping at each other, pulling at each others hair, hands gripping each other roughly. It was a culmination of the tension, the elastic band that had been stretched out, pulled so taut that it finally snapped back. 

Aemond tasted like smoke and water, tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you, holding his mouth against yours, groaning into your lips as he held you, the both of you fighting for dominance. You pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth sharply, pressing your body up against him.

Long fingers dipped under your sleep shirt, pulling it up and over your head, the top forgotten on the tiled kitchen floor, a chill spreading across your chest as you leant into him for warmth. Aemond’s hands skated up your sides, coming to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking teasingly over your nipples. You moaned into his mouth, nipples stiffening into peaks.

Aemond’s hands were so large you noted as he held you, and you mewled quietly into his mouth as his hands skated sideways, covering your ribs entirely as he spun you around, lifting you with little effort to sit you on the kitchen bench. 

The kiss was broken as you were lifted, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, pressing a teasing kiss to your sternum before moving to lap at a nipple with his tongue. Your hands flew to the back of his head, pressing him against you as you hissed, feeling his teeth graze over the stiffened peak. 

“Fuck.” You whined.

Aemond slotted himself between your thighs, your legs instinctually wrapping around him to bring him closer. You could feel his hard length against your inner thigh as he rolled his hips, swapping to the other breast to pay it the same attention as the other, whilst a hand slid down your body to cup your core softly. Your hips rolled into his hand, desperate for more, desperate to get the friction you so desperately needed. 

And yet he kept his hand still, just cupping you. 

Teasing you.

“Please.” You begged, rolling your hips again into his palm, grasping his wrist to try and move his hand to dip beneath your pyjama shorts. 

Aemond chuckled against your chest, moving away from the sensitive nipple with a flick of his tongue which sent your back arching into him, “So needy.”

You growled in annoyance, hands moving to the front of his pants, hoping that it would speed him along. As soon as your hand grazed his length, your eyes widened, looking down. 

He was big.

Really big.

“Oh.” You said quietly, blush erupting on your cheeks, looking down at the long and thick outline in his pants, “Fuck.”

Those sweatpants had done him a disservice.

Aemond looked down at you hungrily, pupil blown wide with lust and lips reddened from your kiss. His eye dropped down to where your gaze had fallen, one finger tracing up and down his length, a shiver running over his body. 

He grabbed your chin, crashing his lips to yours again as he ground into your palm, his hands coming to shimmy his pants down his hips, kicking them off, his cock slapping against his stomach, heavy with want. He toed his shoes and socks of next in a rush, pants falling from his mouth. Your palm gripped him tightly, moving from base to tip as he sighed into you. He was hot in your pam, long and girthy, with the tip wet with his arousal. 

As you gripped him you realised just how large the man was. It was always the skinny white boys that were equipped with cocks like this, you thought. So unsuspecting in their lean stature, but their missing body mass had to go somewhere you supposed. 

Aemond was no exception to the rule. 

Your hand could barely wrap around it.

You wondered briefly if it would even fit.

Aemond pulled backwards as you whined desperately at the loss of him, but the disappointment was short lived as his hands gripped your hips and ripped your shorts off in one swift movement before slotting himself back between your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bench. His length lined up with your soaked core, rubbing his tip through your folds to gather the slick at your entrance. 

Aemond wasted no time, too impatient and pent up to wait or even prepare you, and so he pushed inside of you with one swift thrust. 

You had never felt so full in your life.

You moaned loudly, head thrown back as you felt the stretch of him, his length splitting you apart and filling you entirely. Each inch of him pressed deliciously against your walls as you breathed heavily, eyes dropping back to his face. 

Aemond stilled for one moment, a moment of mercy, to give you time to accommodate to his size, but that second of kindness was short lived, and the man gripped your hips bruisingly, pulling out slowly, so that you could feel every ridge and vein, before diving back into your centre with long and harsh rut.

You cried out loudly, hands gripping his shoulders as Aemond began to fuck into you at a brutal pace, not once slowing as his length bullied every inch of your walls. The kitchen was filled with the sound of his hips clapping against yours, the lewd slick wet of your folds and the moans and whines that dripped from your lips like honey. 

It was nothing like you had ever felt before. 

Where Cregan was large, Aemond was larger, longer in length that reached deeper and further than the other man, each thrust caused blooming pleasure to shoot up into your gut, warmth winding down your limbs. 

You gripped the back of Aemond’s head and pulled him down, biting at his lips and kissing him angrily, still all teeth and spite, pouring your frustration into him with every nip or press of your lips against his despite the pleasure he was bringing you.

One hand left your hip and gripped the back of your neck, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, before squeezing the sides of your neck, little bits of pain sprinkling down your spine as he held you forcefully. 

Aemond broke away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked down to watch where you were joined. The entire length of his cock was slick with your arousal, pooling between your cheeks and the kitchen bench below, dripping down to his sack. 

You had never been so wet in your life. 

Oh Gods.

“Fuck, fuck.” You keened, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly you were sure it would bruise, nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half moons in his flesh, as you felt the coil within wind embarrassingly quick.

Aemond grunted, “You gonna cum?”

You nodded your head shakily, motion stunted with his grip at the back of your neck.

“Good. Want to feel you cumming on my cock. Fuck.”

Your knuckles ached from how you were holding onto him, and with each sharp and fast thrust, Aemond’s tip bullied your g-spot, sparks of pleasure exploding behind your eyes, your release barrelling towards you so quickly it was just within reach.

“So fucking tight.” Aemond panted, “Such a perfect little pussy. Fuck, such a good girl.”

You sighed dreamily at the praise, walls gripping him tightly. 

Aemond hissed, “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl? Being such a good girl for daddy, taking his cock so well.” Aemond sucked in another hiss, “Look at you.”

Your bit your lip and hummed, eyes half hooded in lust as you tilted your hips forward towards him, your peak beginning to take over.

“There you go, good girl. Good girl, cum on my cock, come on. Fuck. So pretty.” He praised you, thrusts becoming more brutal, “You’re so fucking pretty, little pussy stretched out on my cock. Looking so fucking pretty like that.”

You moaned needle, whimpering as his length buried into you unforgivingly, “You like daddy’s cock, baby? Huh? Yeah you do.”

His words crashed over you, core fluttering around him as you dumbly nodded your head at him, small mewls and ‘yes’’ falling from your lips with ease. 

“Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.” Fingers began to swirl on your bud, dragging you dangerously close to the edge, “Come on baby, I know you can do it, can feel you getting so tight.”

Your moans grew loudly, pants and sobs falling from your lips as Aemond continued to thrust into your soaked core, finger swirling roughly on you to drag you closer to climax, “Such a pretty dumb little baby, aren’t you? Want you to fucking soak me.” 

Pleasure exploded within you, winding up your body powerfully as you shook in his grip, Aemond’s hips stuttering slightly as he fucked you through your release, a long and high pitched moan being ripped from your chest. 

“Fuck, good girl. Cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck you feel so good, fuck.” Your walls clenched around him, feeling each drag of his length against your sensitive walls, “There you are, such a good baby, such a pretty little girl aren’t you?”

Aemond rutted into your heat furiously, chasing his own peak, pace becoming sloppier as his stomach tensed, muscles rippling up his chest and down his back, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

Aemond’s thrusts stuttered, “Where- Where-“

You blinked up at him, eyelids heavy, “Inside me. Please daddy.”

Aemond’s hips stuttered, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little pussy.” He thrust inside rapidly, prolonging your pleasure as breathless mewls were ripped out of you. 

Aemond bent over you, brows furrowing as his lips parted, panting as he reached his peak, a ragged moan falling from his lips as he pushed to his limit inside of you, warmth filling you as his thick ropes of his seed coated your walls. 

You breathed heavily beneath him, core clenching around his length in aftershocks as you felt him fill you up. Tingles spread through you as you both came down from your highs, your body feeling like it was floating. 

You gazed up at him through your lashes. Aemond’s head was tilted down, plump reddened lips slightly parted with his seeing eye shut. His long white lashes fluttering against his cheek as he breathed. 

Your chest clenched as you looked at him. 

Fuck. 

He is so pretty.

The pink of his tongue came out to wet is lips as he looked back up at you, a small smile winding on his face, “You ok?”

You nodded sluggishly, feeling the hand at the back of your neck loosen its grip, smoothing the muscle in soft circles that made your eyes slip shut. Aemond continued for a moment longer before moving his hand to the side of your face, brushing the hair that had fallen across your cheeks and forehead away from your face soothingly. 

You hummed quietly and leant your face in his palm, calloused fingers cupping your cheek as he moved to press a soft kiss against your lips. You squirmed under his touch, heat blooming inside of you again as your walls clamped down on him. Aemond chuckled into your mouth, pulling away to press another kiss on your cheek. 

“You did good, baby. So good.” He praised you, and you felt heat flood your cheeks as you looked at him, warmth spreading across your chest and want coursing through you. You smiled up at him shyly, keening, pressing a kiss into his palm. 

Large hands skated down your arms as you felt the buzz of your release, Aemond cock still twitching inside of you as your mind felt hazy. Aemond kneaded your ass in his hands as he pulled you closer to him, his length pressing snugly against your cervix. 

In one swift movement he lifted you up into his arms, a small squeak breaking from your lips as he turned your around and carried you to your bedroom, cock still nestled inside of you. Each step caused his tip to press into you, pleasure simmering through you. You shifted and wriggled in his hold the entire time. 

Aemond hissed as he opened your bedroom door, dragging his hips back to pull out of you. You immediately felt empty and whined at the loss, feeling a trickle of warmth escape your core and into the crux of your thighs. Aemond hushed you as he bent down, lowering you to the bed. 

A feeling of anxiety prickled in your chest as he stood to his full height. 

He was going to leave again. 

And then he was going to be an asshole to you once more. 

How could you be so stupid, how could-

“I'll be right back.” Aemond reassured you, bending down to press a kiss atop your head, leaving your room. 

You heard the linen closet open and close, and then the soft hum of water in the bathroom running. You waited anxiously, shifting on the bed as you felt a trickle of his cum and the warmth of your own release begin to leak from you.

Aemond returned to your room in no time, face cloth in hand. He made his way over to you slowly, looking down at you on the bed. “Lay back.” He said quietly, air of dominance still around him though softer this time.

You obeyed, and laid down against the plush of the pillows on your bed, feeling exhaustion begin to wind its way up inside of you. Limbs feeling like lead and body buzzing with the warmth fo your peak.

Aemond pressed the warm wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning you of your combined releases that lay sticky and slick to your inner thighs. He was careful to not press too hard, wary of your sensitivity, and once he was done, he chucked the cloth into your laundry basket, tucking you beneath the sheets.

He stood to leave the room, but your hand reached out to grab his wrist. You caught him just barely, fingers gathering the grip to hold him to you. His skin was warm, and he looked down at you slowly, the softness of his face gone, and the cool mask you had grown to know slipping in place.

“Stay.” You whispered into the dark of the room.

Aemond shifted, your thumb rubbing against his inner wrist softly, soothingly, trying to tempt him to hold you.

“I can’t.” Came his quiet response, so very quiet in the already still room, the sounds of the city having faded away.

“Why?”

His head ducked down, pressing a kiss against your hair line, “Shh. Rest.”

“But-“

“-Rest. You need to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, the pit in your gut sinking further, but the way he was looking at you was uncertain. Like a skittish animal ready to take flight, as though he was reserving something within, and it all showed in his violet eye.

“You’ve been good, so good. Now get some sleep, you have work in the morning.”

You didn’t have it within you to fight him, to battle it or argue, and so with a nod of your head, you slid further beneath the sheets, releasing the grip on his hand. You watched as he turned to walk out of the room, hand from the wrist you had grabbed flexing outwardly before he shut the door quietly behind him.

-

When you woke that morning you had expected to see him, having woken up earlier than usual in the hopes of catching him before he moved to his instinctual and habitual run. But Aemond had woken far earlier that morning, and you had to tell yourself to not let your heart skip the way it did when you noticed his absence.

As you dressed and readied for work, and moved to the kitchen as you always did, there it was. 

Your steaming mug of tea. 

Ready to be drunk by you, and made by the man you still did not quite understand perfectly. 

It was as if every time he even let a brick of his walls down, he would put them back up, and install reinforcements. As though he struggled to let anyone in, or feared to. You had chalked it up to his upbringing with the strange dynamic that was the Hightower/Targaryen family, or perhaps there was more to what had happened with him and Alys.

The day went slowly as you had expected it to do, and by the time you had gotten home, Aemond was there, loose shirt and baggy pants, bent over the stove as he cooked dinner. His music, as usual, played loudly in the kitchen, what had surprised you however was the familiar tune of Lana Del Rey’s - Shades Of Cool playing through your speaker. 

Huh. 

You didn’t take him as a Lana fan.

You greeted him from behind cautiously, careful to not startle the man from running away from you again. He had turned slowly, as though he had anticipated your arrival, no doubt by the time you finished work and got home as per usual, creature of weekly habit you were, and had given you a small but kind smile.

You sidled up beside him as he cooked, and told him about your day, and he had told you bare footnotes about his. Aemond had apparently discovered a new bookstore that day, and you had made him promise to take you soon.

It was odd. 

The air around you was charged but neither of you acted upon it, or pointed out, the both of you all too eager to let it extend for the time that it was there. Aemond did not push you away, and you did not push him to anger.

You ate dinner together, watching television, the tension ripe with the elephant in the room, but neither one of you broached on the topic of what had happened the night before, or how the dynamic between the two of you had clearly shifted.

When dinner was over, you had helped him to pack the dishwasher and insisted on him sitting on the couch and to wait for you. You dug into the back of the freezer where your favourite ice cream tub sat, and pulled two large spoons from the drawer. 

“Here.” You handed him a spoon, sitting beside him on the couch, closer than usual, hips and thighs connected and a smile on your face. 

Aemond took the spoon and looked at the tub, watching as you took the lid off and chucked it on the coffee table in front of you, curling your legs up beneath you and offering him the first scoop. He scooped a generous spoon and dipped it into his mouth, humming as his tongue curled to lick the remainder of the icecream off of the spoon. You licked your lips subtly, shifting in your seat. 

Gods damn him. 

“It's good.” He mused, dipping another spoon in, “Probably one of my favourites.”

“Really?” Your heart raced in your chest, “Mine too. I have to hide it in the back of the fridge when Helaena gets high. She will demolish the whole tub in seconds if you blink.” You giggled at the memory of smoking with your best friend, going to shower, and coming back to her on the couch with an empty tub of ice cream.

“Sounds like Hel.” Aemond chuckled.

You leant against him for the remainder of the night, watching tv, tub of ice cream finished between the two of you, sticky spoons stuck against the coffee tables surface, forgotten. At one point his arm had lifted and tucked over your shoulder, pulling you further into his side.

Your heart raced at first, stomach doing flips, but soon you settled into it, head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his scent curling around you warmly. It was nice to not be bickering, to see him let one of his many walls down for however long it would last. 

But as usual, nothing lasts forever. 

Because as you were tucked to his side, the softness of his fingers skating over your skin, you could not help but think of what this meant. 

What this was. 

What it would be.

With Cregan it was cut dry, there was no lingering feelings there anymore on either side, and it felt normal, comfortable, but your heart didn’t race if he held your hand, or kissed the side of your face, and it certainly didn’t race when he would cuddle up to watch a movie with you and Hel. 

With Cregan it was simple. But Aemond? That was something else. Your heart did race when he touched you, and right now, you prayed to the Gods that he couldn’t hear it beating like a drum in your chest.

But it wasn’t just the small touches, it was his proximity too. When he would reach over your head in the kitchen to grab something from the cupboard. When he would sit just that smidge closer to you on the couch. How he had been so near to you in the kitchen as you fought.

Because no matter what he did, whether he was being quiet, or brooding, or snarky, or his rarer and more fleeting moments of kindness, your heart would race. Your cheeks would heat and this warmth in your gut would settle heavily. And it was then that you knew you were fucked.

You didn’t know what to do, his hand on your arm, stroking up and down softly making your mind run a million miles an hour. 

Did you ask what this was?

What you were?

Surely he felt what you felt. It was different. It was more. There was more to this than something casual, more to this than some convenient fuck of your best friends brother. Because there was danger to this, a risk that you had both taken. There was things that you could both loose from this. Losses that mounted higher with each moment you sat together in silence.

You had only fucked once, almost twice if you counted the first time in the kitchen. So why did it already feel like something more?

Sitting in your questions, you felt Aemond shift, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“It’s getting late. I’m going to go to bed.” He told you, removing his arm from you as he stood up. You watched him give you a controlled and small smile, clipped at the corners of his mouth, before he moved to walk away, disappearing down the hall and into his room with a click of his door. 

But it was the way that he smiled at you that settled an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. It felt like he was separating himself from you again. And so you went after him, jumping up from your seat to follow him down the hall, opening his door to see him already sitting on the edge of his bed head in his hands.

His face lifted, looking straight at you as you stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. His head cocked to the side, brows slightly furrowing as you looked at him, gnawing at your lip as you fought for the words to say.

“Last night-“ You began, twisting your hands together at your front.

“-Was a mistake, I know.”

You blinked, swallowing dryly. 

What?

“A mistake?” You furrowed your brows.

Aemond’s mask slid back into place, cold gaze looking up are you as he spoke, “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re Helaena’s best friend. It was wrong of me.”

It felt as though he had slid a dagger between your ribs, “Why?”

“Because it’s not going to work out the way you think.”

He was pushing you away again.

“And what way do I think it will work out?” 

“That this will be more than what it was.”

You blanched, “What?” Irritation began to spoil in your gut. 

Why did he always do this? Why did he always get these reactions from you? 

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Do you think I expect flowers and declarations of love after that?” The words felt bitter on your tongue, heart aching in your chest, battling the tears in your eyes, “I was under no illusion that it would be more.”

Aemond’s brows raised in a mocking way, lips pulled down into a frown, “Are you sure?”

Anger soared through you, “Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”

“See,” A long hand lazily flicked up at you, “You’re already hurt. I didn’t want this.”

Didn’t want this.

You sniffed, “It’s because you’re being a complete fucking asshole.”

The silver haired man pushed an irritated tongue into his cheek as he shifted on the bed, turning his entire body towards you and sneered, “And what do you want me to do? You knew who I was when you fucked me. Did you think you could get my cock wet and I would change? Be a better man? Be the man who Cregan can’t be for you?”

Your mouth gaped, shock spreading across your chest, “Don’t bring him into this. He has nothing to do with this.”

Aemond scoffed loudly, rolling his eye up to the ceiling, “You don’t think that your boy toy loves you? Have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re dragging him along for a ride whilst you fuck me on the side.”

“What me and Cregan do is none of your fucking business. And you’re the one to talk, what about Alys? Are you not dragging me along on the side?”

“Don’t.”

The air in the room went icy.

But the heat and anger inside pushed you forward, “So, what? You can bring up Cregan but I can’t bring up her? Tit for tat, Aemond.” You spat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anger exploded within, “And neither do you! You have been so incredibly rude to Cregan, who has given you nothing but the benefit of the doubt and kindness that you certainly don’t deserve. You know he even told me to be nicer to you. You?!” You watched as Aemond frowned, “You are the most judgemental man I have ever fucking met. You sulk in your room all day or on runs, take cheap shots at everyone around you when they even try to be nice to you, and make it almost impossible for anyone to like you.”

The sneer fell from Aemond’s lips, “I don’t need anyone to like me.”

You sighed, “That's your problem, Aemond! You’re isolating yourself for no other reason than that you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

You took a step towards him, watching as he looked you over warily, “Yes you are. You’re afraid to let anyone get close to you. What happened to you as a kid-“

“-What do you know about what happened to me?” The sneer was back.

Fuck.

“Nothing! That’s the point. You don’t let anyone in, but I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends.”

A pang of sadness spread across your chest, “Everyone needs friends.” You shook your head sadly, “Aemond, I’m not doing this with you again. I can’t keep doing this when all you do is push me away. It’s like fighting with a brick wall and it’s hurting me more than its being productive. I’m trying to be nice to you, I want to be your friend, Aemond. But if you don’t want to accept that people can be nice to you, that I can be nice to you, then that’s something you need to work through alone.”

Aemond’s back straightened on the bed, as though he was about to stand, but shook his head instead, pushing his hands into the mattress as though to keep him there, “You don’t really like me. You just want to fuck me to make Cregan jealous.”

You frowned, “Is that all you think this is?”

Silence.

Your chest clenched sadly.

You sighed, “Goodnight, Aemond. I really hope that you think about this before you go to sleep, because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @anehkael @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @padfooteyes

Bold is who I cannot tag

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[aliorsboxostuff]

Hey! Sorry for the ask, but if you're still taking requests could I maybe request a Tyler Owens x ftm reader

Readers been on his storm chasing team for a bit, helps Boone coordinate the social media presence or something-

I don't have a well thought out prompt- just a like. How they get together finally after months of pining and comments of "are they dating yet?"

- 🌟

AHH HELLOOOO 🌟 ive been waiting for a Tyler Owens req for agessss nowww omg thank you and ofc my inbox is opened rn!! This fic turned more into like,, a yearning, slight slow-burn-ish fic with a hint of humour from the team lmaooo, ALSO! If y'all didn't know, Dani is Non-binary! So i’m giving them a They/Them pronouns, hope yall like it !! <3

Twin Flame Tornadoes

Tags: Tyler Owens x Male!Reader, StormChaser!raeder, FtM!Reader, No use of Y/n, Boone, Dexter, Dani, Lilly, Kate, Javi, Yearning, Crushes, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, just a bit yk, Found Family, Internalized Homophobia (?), maybe??, General Homophobia (westerners yeesh), Denial, Dirty thoughts, iykyk, Tyler is actually so smitten its insane, Such a lover boy 

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers. Especially with Tyler

=====

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers.

You joined the Tornado Wranglers just a couple of months after they took off. Back then, you were about to leave town as you finally got a proper job somewhere in Brooklyn, somewhere safer for you to exist. That night, the sudden ring from your phone halts your packing, your hand closing the suitcase while rummaging through your pile of clothes to answer the call.

“H-hey hello,” You greeted, shoving your phone between your ear and elbow. 

“Hey! How’s it going man!” Boone’s loudness almost made you drop your phone in shock, quickly collecting yourself as you catch yourself. “I hope you’re well!” 

“Boone? Is that you?” You smile, hearing your old high school friend's cheery voice. You hear a chuckle from the other end, making you grin.

“‘Course it is! One and only!” He answers. 

You chuckle, nudging some of your sweaters to take a seat, your bed creaking slightly. “Hey! I’ve been good, been okay. You, Boonie?” 

“Never better man,” Boone’s undoubtedly grinning ear to ear, you thought. “Listen, I got a proposition for you now- You busy?”

You shrug, knowing you’ll only be catching your flight in two days. “Nope, I'm all ears,” 

“So I’ve gotten myself into this storm chasin’ thing again, you remember right? Remember when we used to take your truck out in the fields, runnin’ out there and driving our asses way too close to tornadoes when we saw ‘em?”

You sigh, a thump on the bed as you throw your head back to the pillows. “Yeah, of course,  those were the days…” 

“Right? So I started doing this professionally and so-” 

“Wait,” You roll over onto your stomach as you stuff a plushie underneath you. “Professionally? Did you actually join-” 

“A storm chasin’ group! Yeah!” Boone’s laughs shake your core, and something warm churns inside you.

You recalled those days. In high school, you and Boone were inseparable. It didn't take a lot to know why, from an outsider's point of view. Back then, you were outcasted silently, your peers mostly talked to you only if need be, otherwise you were a recluse who kept to yourself, not by choice sadly. Though it's different with Boone. He never cared what you were, how you identified yourself. He sees you as you and for that same reason you two became good friends. At the age of 17, you got an old pickup all fixed up, and the first thing you did with it was to storm chase with Boone. 

That day, a storm warning rang around your town, and while your neighbors closed their windows and blinds, you and Boone took the truck out into the field and chased after it. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline was addicting as you felt the harsh wind against your skin, your hair astray, the loud cheers beside you as Boone was halfway out of the truck. It was dangerous, it was reckless, yet those were the best days of your life. 

Eventually, life took over, and when graduation came around, you busied yourself with college, unknown to you where your best friend went. You never imagined he was the first one to turn the once hobby into a profession.

“Now, about that proposition,” Boone clears his throat. You blink, an unwavering smile on your lips. “Seein’ as I'm now in the storm chassin’ business, me and my buddy need’s another guy for our team, yeah? And I mean, I thought, who else would be a better candidate than you!”

You laugh, though can't help but furrow your brow as you ask; “Wait- you want me? Boone I haven't chased in a while, not since high school,” A sigh as you run your hand through your hair. “I'm not saying no, ‘s just…”

“You don't need to do nothin’ you don't wanna! Buuuut…” He falters, you hear a click of a tongue. “We do need an extra hand on the camera…” 

You pause, eyebrows raising. “Wait… Camera?” 

That's how you found yourself being the 2nd cameraman for the Tornado Wranglers.

While Boone rides in the action truck, you stay back with Dexter and Dani, recording mostly behind-the-scenes shots for YouTube and the occasional passes of point of view whenever the gang goes storm chasing and streams it online. 

It's been a solid 2 years now, and since then the Tornado Wranglers have risen in popularity. From a couple thousand to now reaching a million followers on Instagram, a solid half a million on YouTube and Twitch. Not to mention the myriads of fan accounts now arose, especially for the group's appointed leader, Tyler. 

Each time you went to edit some footage of the latest run, there's always one or two fan edits you stumble across, mostly on Twitter, with yet another catchy pop song that Tyler probably would know if he wasn’t engrossed in his country music, that you’d have to roll your eyes at and scroll past. Not before bookmarking it. 

Truth be told, you’ve harbored a pretty big crush on the guy. Tyler was never one to care about whose identity is what, if he did he would’ve been harsher towards Dani or wouldn't let them join the team, but you were never sure where he swung. You and your gender were never a problem for him, but the constant heart throb whenever the blonde passes by will start being a problem for you. 

He’s a cocky flirt, confidence and charisma are practically an infinite fountain within that man. He’s smooth and witty and every girl's dream, which is evident with the majority of the Tornado Wranglers fanbase being women and the occasional longing gay men, much like yourself. If you don't take into account the usual Storm Chaser fans, the people on the internet would agree about Tyler being alluring. 

—

“Join us for a drink won't ya’?” The voice tore your focus away from the laptop screen and up to captivating brown eyes. The owner of said eyes is leaning on the doorframe of the truck, a shield from the bright floodlights as it captures his frame like a halo, his arms cage you just above your head, a playful smirk on his lips.

You grin, shaking your head to turn back to your laptop before your heart makes another leap from Tyler's presence. “Sorry boss, I gotta get this out tomorrow, remember?”

“I'm sure the fans won't mind it being a day late,” His dismissal would've been nothing if his hand hadn't landed on your shoulder, squeezing slightly which almost got you to gulp. “You’ve been on that thing for hours now, I think your eyes would appreciate the break,” 

His hold, warm and inviting, finally got you to sigh and save the active project, before promptly closing your laptop and facing the man. “Fine, but you buying,”

“Who said I didn't?” His hand drops to your wrist where he tugs slightly, getting you to exit the confines of the truck into the cold evening night. 

The crew was with the many other storm chasers, the motel’s parking lot filled with various trucks and music and chatter amongst many others. When you finally join the team as they lounge around the control van, they cheer at your and Tyler's arrival. Other than Lilly and Boone who were busy reviewing today's footage with various awes and cheers, they all had beers in their hand and were satiated after today's busy day. 

Tyler grabs two bottles from the cooler, offering one to you. Your hand grazes his slightly as you receive it, “I thought you said you were buying?” 

“Hey now, this pack came outta my pocket, y’know,” He chuckles, which makes you grin.

Suddenly, your eyes drop to where he’s holding the beer bottle as he brings it lower to his crotch level and fuck he guides the cap to his belt buckle and pops it open. The liquid inside fizzes slightly before he finally takes a swig, his lips curl around the tip as he gulps down, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion, hands somewhat damp from the bottle's condensation. He wipes at his lips before his gaze drops to yours, a visible heat within them that makes you physically tear away from.

Did he really need to do that? Beside you too? Does he want me dead?

“Need a hand?” Yes- You cough, finding the soil beneath you interesting, 

“Uh sure yeah,” A forced gulp as you handed him your bottle. He repeats his earlier motion though you opted to save yourself from a growing arousal by glancing over to Dani. Yet that was also a mistake. 

Dani had their eyes on you the whole time, undoubtedly seeing the way your face grew in color at what Tyler did, and they smirked at how you completely chose to look down after focusing too much on the man's hand. They raise a brow, which you reply with a knowing stare. They laugh, their smirk just growing in smugness, before they tap something on their thigh which makes your heart drop. 

There, perching idly, is their phone, camera pointing towards yours and Tyler's direction. Your eyes widen, changing from looking at the phone, back to Dani, then back to the phone, before to Dani again, now your eyes soften into a plead. Your puppy eyes doesnt work on them as their phone flops back down to their thigh and into their pocket. 

You groan slightly before Tyler hands you your beer back. “Thanks,” you reply shortly and take a sip. 

The hood of one of the trucks was vacant so you took the liberty of perching on it, craning your neck to look up at the stars. The glimmering spots above were prominent here in the open fields, unlike those in the city. You knew, if you did take that job back then, you’d miss the easy breeze and clear skies of the mid-west. Tyler soon follows, leaning beside you, one arm hung on the hood, his stetson long forgotten somewhere. 

You figured the man would spend more time with Dexter, maybe plan out what they’re going to be doing tomorrow, but instead he hovers near you. He takes a sip, before he cocks his head upwards. 

“Next month’ll be storm season,” His eyes still focused on the sky when you glanced over. 

“Yeah? More toys for us to play with,” Tyler smiles as he hears your reply, you can't help but too. 

“There will be…” He takes a swig of his beer, the clicks his tongue as he finishes. “A journalist, from England. He’ll be going with us for some weeks,”

You hum, though a bit concerned. Not for the team no. If the Tornado Wranglers were dropped into a jungle with nothing but a match you're sure the team could pull through. You’re worried about the journalist, being from Europe no less. When you turn to spot Boone and Lilly both cackling at today's footage, hunched over the iPad, you chuckle, earning Tyler's attention.

“What? Something about the guy?”

“No no,” You smirk, sipping slightly from your bottle. “Just hoping the guy’ll survive us,” 

Tyler balks slightly, before he takes a glance at the crew scattered about, and laughs alongside you. There’s so much professionality the team can do, and while the obvious is to be proper hosts for the upcoming journalist, you can't help but imagine how insane it would be for such a prim-propper European to join a rag-tag group of Americans.

—

“Hey, Kate here take some food and water,” She glances towards the items you're holding, the girl immediately shakes her head. 

“I'm not buying food from you guys,” Her eyes widened, fixing you with a stare. Your head tilts at her response. 

“We’re giving these away,” Your head motions towards your friends behind you, giving out needed food, water, and clothes from the merch boxes. “We’re selling out shirts practically free and handing food and water away, everybody here needs some,” 

The destroyed houses around where you and Kate stood paint a clear picture. The tornado that Storm Par and The Tornado Wranglers were chasing destroyed the nearby town, effectively rendering some of the citizens there with no home and almost no remnants of their things, clothes and pictures scattered beneath the debris, The blonde’s eyes scan the area around, softening when she hears your explanation, eyes fleeting towards the van behind you.

She sighs and musters a small smile. “It's fine, I don't need it, give it to the other people,”

You hum, before pushing the bottled water into her hand. “At least take the water,”

“Okay, thank you,” She nods, another smile enough to reassure you. You reply to her nod before jogging back to your friends. Kate watches as you gather with them, immediately helping more survivors with food and clothes. She watches at your team, before glancing briefly at Javi, then climbs into the car and drives away. 

Later that night, while fatigue reigns over the team, everyone currently catching up over dinner and drinks, you watch as Tyler barely touches his food while downing his 2nd bottle of booze. You knew the man could handle his liquor, well over yours, but he rarely drinks as much as a 3rd bottle when it's with the group. Worry and suspicion steadily bubbling up within your heart.

As you took the space beside him, leaning on the cold car exterior, your flannel button up to combat the cold night air. “You okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah, pretty good,” He takes a sip, sighing as he finishes. “You?”

“Alright,” You nod. 

A silence falls between you and Tyler, though it's a mutually welcomed one. Usually, the team would be loud with a mixture of someone's Spotify playlist playing on the speaker, a thrumming of guitar from Dexter, or Boone just cracking jokes and making people laugh. Though tonight, you both knew the team was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Despite how many times you chase a tornado, the aftermath and impact it has on any town never get easier to swallow. 

You bask in the easy breeze, the usual humidity following a storm from the previous hours. The air invites you to tilt your head upwards, eyes shut to bask in its wind. It sways your lapels a bit, taking the day's tiredness away with it. When you feel a warm hand rests on your nape your eyes flutter open, Tyler’s warm browns greet you when you blink. 

He has something in his look, something warm with care and compassion. It swirls a deep whirlpool, pulling you deeper into its grasp, like longing and want and pining and you're too scared to find out which is which. You watch as Tyler’s gaze slips down and pauses on your lips, parted as you force yourself to inhale sharply, then immediately back to your eyes. A pregnant pause, too long to mean nothing, until he gulps and tears himself away, opting to pat your shoulder instead as his focus shifts to the ground. 

You had to collect yourself; a deep breath as you felt his sturdy pats, then he pulled slightly, a reassuring grip that grounds you. “I'm glad.” he finishes.

You had to blink and force yourself to take a sip from your bottle, mimicking Tylers movements in finding the dirt interesting. You were about to keep up the gimmick before his hand dropped which had you following his line of sight. Just meters away from the group’s huddle, Kate walks in the direction of her motel room. She’s in a hurry, something in the way she walks slightly fast and breath too labored. You recall you haven't seen her after handing her the water bottle hours ago, now that it turned into the evening,

When you turn to asses Tyler, he had the same look he gave you earlier. The same dark eyes with determination and longing. Something hurts, a pang in your chest, throat suddenly dry like you swallowed sand. 

He follows her steps, up the stairs, and as her door closes. 

Your eyes follow his.

Tyler hums, blinking once, before shaking his head and taking a big gulp.

The sting is back. It’s sharp and hard beneath your abdomen, like it’s begging to be let out, a nail inside a balloon that's starting to deflate too quickly. Enough to force you to breathe manually and gulp down your beer just enough to eliminate the possibility of anxiety.

You had to muster yourself to talk. “Go,” 

Tyler turns, a smirk on his lips. “Wha-”

“Talk to her Ty, I know you wanna.” You grin albeit forced. “She ain't okay, not like us. Go.”

He sighs. He takes another minute before handing you the rest of his beer then starts to walk towards the stairs. As he climbs the steps, your eyes meet his, a slight hesitation, before you give him a firm nod, and he continues to Kate’s room. 

You let out a breath you didn't know were holding, chest tight from god knows what. 

After a sigh, you decided to turn back to the others when Dani punched you straight on the arm, hard.

“Ow! What that for?!” 

“For being a dumbass!” They stand a head below you yet they could intimidate anyone within a five-mile radius. They sigh, poking an accusatory finger at your sternum. “You didn't see how Tyler looked at ya’? The boy had puppy eyes on you and you went off and told ‘em to chase Kate!” 

“What are you even talkin’ about Dani?”

They huff, wiping a hand across their face. “I know I’m the only one here that knows you like Tyler- don't cut me off.” You immediately close your lips. “But we all saw that! Hell, even Boone and Lilly did!” 

“You two were about to make out if it weren't for Tyler wussing out!” 

Heat shot upwards, coloring your cheeks in embarrassment as you immediately shot the thought down. “N-no we weren't, and you know that,” 

“‘Sides, look at him! He ran over to ask Kate-” As you spoke, the said couple ran past the group going god knows where with god knows what, Tyler's expression a calm and soothing wave while Kate’s anxiety slowly simmers down. You knew he was taking her somewhere to get her mind off of today's destruction. In another part, you're glad Tyler is the gentleman he is, in another, you wish you were in Kate’s position. 

“See!” You continue. “They’re probably going to a bar or something, take her mind off of things,”

Dani rolled their eyes. They heard the slight change in your tone, the hurt and hint of jealousy. They understand, they know just how long you've been harboring your crush. 

They sigh and turn, leaving you as you watch Tyler and Kate disappear into the night. 

—

“You used to be a rodeo cowboy?” Kate laughs, both in disbelief and awe. The man beside her grows slightly in color, admittedly looking anywhere but at her. 

He nods shortly. “Yeah, only for a bit, before I went to college and became a meteorologist,”

“I knew chasin’ storm was my calling, as much as I loved takin’ care of the bulls and horses,” 

Tyler’s focus is back on the show in front of them as Kate nods in acknowledgment. She used to go to rodeo shows, albeit not as much since she was busier with her studies, and not long after moving into New York. Tyler, much to her credit, isn't as bad as his internet persona makes him out to be.

The man beside her is confident but not cocky, has his knowledge to back up his snarkiness. She smiles when he laughs, captivating brown eyes enraptures her.

Kate recalls the moment before she stormed inside her room. Just out of her peripherals, she saw Tyler with his friend, the one other person he seemed to have a special connection unlike the others. She knows how much Tyler cares about his team, they're basically his family, though with the man that stood beside him, and the way Tyler had a secure hand on the man's back, Kate knew there was a hidden meaning between the gesture. She was too overwhelmed by her emotions that she shut herself in her room without much thinking, not until Tylern coaxed her out to watch the rodeo show. 

Another round of cheers erupted in the audience. All was well, until the wind picked up and Kate’s heart dropped. 

—

“Tyler fucking Owens!” Said man immediately spun around when he heard the familiar voice. Before he could react, strong hands grabbed the sides of his face like a vice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Are you okay? Hurt anywhere? Is everyone else okay? Where’s Kate–”

“Hey- Hey now, hey,” 

Tyler holds your wrists, his hold warm and grounding, evidence of his existence. It soothes you immediately, the consuming fear slowly dwindles into nothingness and when he slowly rubs circles atop your veins the erratic pumps subside. 

“Darlin’, I'm alright.” A smile playing at his lips.

Relief engulfs you as you choke back a sob. Instead, you pulled at the back of Tyler's head, crown connected with crown as you shut your eyes tight. You feel his hand slide to your nap, soothing your worry, another hand snakes its way from just below your ribs then to the middle of your back. A small pocket in the world was formed, a place enough for the two of you to let your worries float away, a bubble where you’re sure Tyler is safe in your arms. 

When Dexter informed the group of the tornado alert one town over, a chill ran down your spine. You left almost 20 miscalls on Tyler's phone and immediately headed to the town where the alert took place, hoping to god Tyler and Kate didn't spend the evening there. 

Your fear came true when you spotted the two between debris, ambulance and emergency personnel already surrounding the two to make sure of their condition and before you knew it you sprinted past the other civilians towards Tyler.

“Im glad.” You manage to choke out as the two of you separate, though your hand lingers on his shoulder. Tyler pats at your arm before he gives it a reassuring squeeze, the last of your anxiety ebbs away. 

You turn to see Kate making her way through the debris which immediately changes your focus to her. “Hey- Kate!” 

—

“Wait wha- I thought you ran in there to get Kate? Ty her planes about to leave-”

“I can't keep chasin’ someone I don't want.” He stops in front of you, his chest rising and deflating from his run in and out of the airport. 

“What do you mean?” 

He smiles, taking a step closer towards you which you instinctively backed away from. “Kate made me realize something that- damn smart woman!” Hes grinning, wide and blidning.

“When we met, I thought I wanted someone like her. She great, don't get me wrong, smart woman and I know she’ll go places if she keeps up in the storm business  but also- Meeting her made me realize something,”

He pauses as his hands slowly glided upwards, warm on your arms where they land. “As much as I wanted her, I’ve never worried about anyone as much as I worried about you.”

“When you ran after Kate yesterday, outside into the tornado, I thought I lost you. I was so scared- I’ve never felt fear like that. You were selfless, you ran with her knowing your safety wasn't guaranteed.”

He takes a ragged breath as he blinks rapidly, and your worry rises. He continues. “We’ve known each other for a long time, baby you were there when we started it all,” 

“All I’m sayin’ is that- I’ve liked you. Loved you for so long but I kept avoiding it cuz’ i didn’t wanna ruin what we have, And meeting Kate? Made me realize I shouldn't keep avoiding something I know you want too.” 

Finally, finally Tyler stopped to breathe as you stared, bewildered. On one side, you can feel your face growing in warmth from his, albeit, sudden and hurried confession, on another side you worry just how forward you had been with him. Were you the one that made him question his sexuality-

“But you’re not gay… are you?” You hesitate, voice small. 

Tyler laughs and it's almost contagious. “Honestly that's- I don't know. Not yet. But loving you? That, I'm certain.”

“But you- I'm a guy, Tyler. You see me as a dude, don't you? You don-”

“No, God no! I don't care what you were. You’re you, baby, and I love you for you,” 

You’re at a loss for words. You thought the man you’ve had a crush on was going to run into the airport and kiss the girl of his dreams, similar to those cheesy romance movies Dani and Lilly likes to watch but no. No. instead, the man of your dreams, the protagonist of your love life, is standing in front of you, devotion and love and yearning in his eyes as he stares into yours. He holds your arms softly yet insistent. 

You answer, through a trembling voice, “I.. I love you too, Tyler,” 

Without missing a beat, Tyler crashes his lips into yours. He pulls you by your hips, secure arms around you as you wrap your arms around his neck. He couldn't help but grin, making you laugh before he steals yet another breath, deepening the kiss by moving languidly, hand now rubbing circles. When your lungs burn, begging for oxygen, the two of you part, both panting with the centimeter of distance. Tyler rests his forehead against yours, sighing in pure contentment. 

“Woo! Finally!” You hear Javi’s voice making you recoil in surprise. The man in question is leaning out of the Storm Par truck, cheering at both you and Tyler. You laugh at his excitement, then suddenly Tyler’s head drops to hide into the crook of your neck, letting out a small whine. The sound would've spurred you on if it weren't for Kate also cheering as she walks out of the airport's doors. 

“Yes! Took you two long enough!” She grins, quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. “I’m sending this to Lilly,” 

You laugh, holding onto Tyler’s flannel while he does the same, his laughs ghosting over your pulse. He stands, though his eyes are still deep in yours. Tyler moves a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm smile enveloping you. You can't help to smile as well, letting yourself fall deeper into those captivating browns.

— reblogs appreciated! Requests are open!

[thursdayinspace]

WIP: on the run

This is a thing that spiraled out of control from a tiny headcanon. I'm not sure this will ever become an actual fic, but I thought I'd share this angsty little snippet, because it can stand on its own. They're on the run after season 9, and Mulder feels guilty, so things happen.

tagging @today-in-fic

It happens only once after they go on the run. Only once, after days on the road, too many days of never-ending worry and fear. Endless days of constantly looking over their shoulders, endless nights with little to no sleep, expecting to be caught any second. It happens once and only once, and Scully knew it was coming. Still, it hits her hard when it does.

It’s a Tuesday, maybe a Wednesday morning; days of the week have lost all meaning, blending together in strips of highway and cheap motels. She wakes up in some damp, moldy room in the middle of nowhere and the bed next to her is cold. For a second, her brain refuses to make sense of it; she sits up, blinking against the light, listening. No sounds from the bathroom, no water running. His bag is missing, no longer on the chair in the corner where he left it. The shock pierces her heart cold as ice: he's gone. Her frantic eyes fall on a note on the bedside table, his familiar handwriting in blue ballpoint pen on yellowed motel stationery:

I'm sorry. I can't do this to you. You deserve so much better, Scully. Please don't be mad at me, you know I'm right about this. I love you.

They checked in late last night and went straight to bed. She doesn't have anything to pack. In her rush to put yesterday's clothes back on, she gets caught in her sweater, can't find the armhole, can't get it over her head, and she loses precious seconds; god knows where he is by now. She leaves in such a hurry she forgets her toothbrush in the bathroom.

He left the car. Of course he did. The keys are in her bag where she put them, having driven the last few miles of their journey last night. That stupid man, if he tried to hitchhike and risked being recognized—she doesn't want to think about it, she needs a level head right now. She knows him better than anyone. Where could he have gone? He doesn't want to be found, not by the cops, and now not by her. Her chest aches and she can’t breathe. She doesn't even know how long he's been gone, and she curses her ability to sleep through absolutely everything. But she knows him. She knows him. If anyone can find him, it's her.

At least this she knows, this is something she can do. So much is out of her control. But she’s fought monsters. She’s solved puzzles nobody else wanted to touch. She can figure this out. And she knows where to start. She knows Mulder.

**

The late afternoon sun casts his shadow long over the soft grass at his feet, and she slams the car door harder than necessary, ready to cry with anger or relief or whatever the hell it is she's feeling. "Mulder."

"Hey, Scully," he says, sounding guilty, resigned, his face unhappy and tired as he meets her eyes.

"What the hell—" She breaks off, barely able to speak through the pounding of her heart. "Mulder, what were you thinking...?"

"I'm sorry," he says. He looks so utterly defeated. "How did you find me?"

She shakes her head, deciding not to get into the shit job he did of concealing his steps; it's almost like he left an intentional trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow, but this is not the time for that discussion. "I cannot believe you. After everything? You try to pull a stunt like this after everything we've been through?"

"It's my fault," he says. "It's all my fault. You're cut off from everyone you love. You have no future. You have no son. Because of me."

"You're such a fucking idiot," she spits at him. He doesn't move, doesn't reply, only lowers his eyes in shame. "Mulder," she tells him. "Look at me."

He doesn't, just lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Go home, Scully."

"Just stop it," she says. "You know I'm not going to do that. So can we just not do this? Please? Can we please not fight about this?”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well.” She takes a few steps closer, sighing. “We can’t always get everything we want.”

“Scully.” His hand reaches for her and she reaches back, she always does, she always will. “This isn’t fair to you.”

“Leaving without a word isn’t fair,” she says. There’s more she wants to say. Promises she wants to hear but can’t ask for; promises she wants to make that she can’t put into words. Not yet. Instead, she wraps her arms around him and holds on, closes her eyes when he finally lifts his arms to squeeze her tight and bury his face in her hair.

“What are we going to do?” he asks.

He’s warm against her, warm and solid and there. “I don’t know,” she says.

She can’t keep this anger inside, and he can’t shoulder this guilt on his own. But she’s too exhausted to fight. Too drained to do anything more than stand here with him. Capitulation and relief are written into every breath against her neck, into the way he wraps himself around her. He doesn’t have the strength to let go. Months ago she’s held him like this once before, and she understands how it tears him apart—she’d felt it too, then: loving him so much she’d needed him to leave, needing him so much she’d wanted him to stay.

“What can I do?” he asks, and she fills in the blanks: What can I do to make this right? What can I do to prove I’m sorry? What can I do to make it so that all this never happened?

And she wants to tell him: please see me, please understand that I need you. “Talk to me,” she says, aware of her hypocrisy; her own words are safely locked away where he will never hear them. He left because he loves her. She found him for the same reason.

“I’ll try,” he says.

She knows he wants her anger and she wishes she could give it to him, but she has no fight left in her and neither does he. If she hopes for it hard enough, maybe they’ll be okay. After all, she knows he’s hoping for the same thing.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 60

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Dream, Seam by @ardett and @maychorian

Lance is the blue paladin. The Galra realize this before he does.

y'all....this au is insane. like genuinely one of the coolest concepts i have seen in this fandom. lance, taken by the galra as an infant and raised by them (altho they treat him like shit, obviously, so fair warning for that), as an asset, because they know he is the blue paladin, because he can See things he should not be able to see? and then he has to get integrated into voltron...yall nothing i can say can do this au justice. there's this almost ethereal feel to the entire fic, there were several moments where my chest was swoopy and my breathing was off bc i was like oh god oh god oh god. the complicated relationships, lance's struggle, and ALSO BONUS!!! das thace!!! i miss dad thace!!! do my fellow voltron geriatrics remember when dad thace was everywhere!! bc i do!! and i miss it!!!

2. five times someone didn't know keith and lance were dating, and one time everyone did by Shorty

Keith shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m still mad about the whole ‘babe’ thing.” ... Or, exactly what the title says.

there is nothing i can say about this fic that isn't in the title 💀 it's exactly what it says it is. and it hits. but some crumbs to intrigue you: 1) one of the tags on this fic is 'hunk is a hunk', 2) it's a 2016 fic, and 3) trust me.

3. Some Secrets Don't Need To Be Kept by @squirenonny

Keith finds out he's part Galra. It's not as big a deal as he expects.

look. sometimes i just want things to be soft. what if keith had it easy? for once in his fucking life? what if people chilled the hell out? for ten minutes? this is seven thousand words of people being like hey keith u know what. take it easy. we got u babes. and i am grateful

4. How to Fake an Interest in Biochemical Engineering by @squirenonny

Shiro has a crush on Matt Holt. But every time he runs into Matt he ends up embarrassing himself. Shiro's best friend Allura is no help. His little brother Keith is even worse. But Shiro is going to make his move before graduation if it kills him. (And it just might kill him.)

SHATT SHATT SHATT SHATT SHATT. shockingly, i didn't just choose this one bc of the recent discourse lol. this is another 2016 fic that i adore. it's just -- disaster shiro, whipped shiro, down bad shiro, sweet matt, cackling keith, shiro who is dying of embarrassment, gay as all fuck shiro, etc etc. it hits. i laughed.

5. Neighbors by starryeyedchar

Lance stood in front of him, but it was a Lance he'd never seen before. Granted, Keith didn't know him well by any means, but he was positive that the regular Lance would be leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, maybe a couple finger-guns. Not this. This Lance had wrapped himself in a blanket, and was still shivering slightly. His skin was much paler than usual, with flushed cheeks and sweat on his brow. He sniffled. “Um.” Or the one where Keith and Lance live in apartments next to each other, and Lance is too sick for Keith to just leave him by himself.

this one is just very dorky and sweet. i love any fic that captures the exact moment in keiths brain when he goes oh no oh shit oh fuck hes HAWT and lance looks like genuine actual shit actually. its so funny to me

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slenderman x Short!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You risk life and limb to stick silly little glow-in-the-dark stars to your ceiling. Slender saves you.

This can absolutely be considered a part of the world in this Slender x Reader fic: Slenderman x SlenderMansionMaid!Reader || Oneshot.

Warnings: Slender and Y/N are very cranky towards eachother XD Its also unedited for now.

Tagging: @microwavemadness , @miss_understood , and @yesthetrashbin .

Your sock-clad feet feel slippery on your smooth bedframe but you balance very carefully, holding your arms out and slowly lowering them to your sides. In one hand is a sheet of glow-in-the-dark green star stickers; the reason you're up in this precarious position, perched atop the 3 inch frame at the end of your bed. Its the only way that you can reach the damn ceiling!! You're too short for a mere step stool to make much of a difference and you cant find a ladder.

Taking a deep breath, you loo at the stickers. Ever-so-slowly, you start peeling stickers off the shiny paper and sticking them on the ceiling in pretty configurations that you think resemble constellations- your own constellations. Your own galaxy.

Every creak that your bedframe gives makes you nervous every moment that you're up there, but you're invested. You wanna turn the lights off later, windows cracked open making your cheeks cold from the nighttime air and feel like you're free outside but safe in your comfy bed.

As you cautiously, deliberately scatter star stickers across your personal night sky, you find yourself thinking how Slender's gonna react to it, and give a grin. Surely he thinks glow in the dark star stickers are stupid and frivolous; just go outside. Look at the real thing. Are you allergic to nature??

"Sometimes, I do wonder."

As soon as Slender's deep staticky voice fills your head up like water so suddenly you give a jolt in shock, eyes wide as your head snaps around to the door. You see a flash of him, just a flash, before your body nearly topples over. You would've crashed right to the floor and broken something (Or knocked your head on something and died), but you land in a pair of long, cold arms; close to a cold firm chest. Heart beating uncomfortably fast, you look up towards Slender's 'face' with wide eyes and a wordless gaping mouth. "... "

"Well? Your mouth's open; say something."

The bluntness in his tone sparks a little frustration in you, your eyebrows furrowing and snapping. "Don't sneak up on a person when they're balanced high-up like that!!"

Slender gives a sigh, lowering your feet gently to the floor and allowing you to slip away from him on your own. "You knew I was here in the mansion- this is my house. You should've been more aware."

"I didn't think you were going to appear randomly!!"

"Well, your lack of forethought is not my fault." At this rude comment, you open your mouth to curse at him- but he's moved on; looking up at the ceiling so close to the top of his head. The ceilings in this mansion are much higher then the typical home but the top of his head is still only a foot away from it. "What on earth are you doing to my property??"

"I'm- well- " For a moment you're going to explain to him- but then you decide not to. Petulantly, you put your hands on your hips and set your face into a look of sternness. "What does it look like??"

"A child's terrible artwork." He wonders deeper into your room, looking at the stars. "... on my ceiling."

"Well then that must be what it is. The door's back over here- "

"Are these the tacky glow-in-the-dark kind?" Slender's fingers glide over a couple of your stars, and you sigh; crossing your arms close over your chest.

"... yes. I like them; I think they're pretty. Problem??"

"I thought my calling them 'tacky' pre-explained that part, actually." He turns to look your way, and you feel his gaze on you in a way that almost feels like a smirk. Oh, this abominable, insufferable, smug ass- "I can hear your thoughts Y/N."

"Oh I know. Its a fringe benefit."

"Bringing you here was a completely failed experiment; I don't know w h a t I was thinking... " He sighs airily, looking back to the stars. And there was a time when his words would've stung, but he says hurtful things like that all the time. Its just how he communicates, the cantankerous old bastard. And you're perfectly aware that he's an asshole, so you don't put much value in his words, anyway. "Hand me those stickers."

That makes you pause. "... why?" You ask, tilting your head and holding your stickers against your chest. You don't want him to confiscate them! He can order you to do anything he wants, technically, but you really don't want to give up your star stickers!! You wont back down without a fight!-

"I'm going to place them on the ceiling for you." He holds out his hand, one totally white palm and long stem-like fingers. "Hand them over."

Huffing, you approach him and plop them into his hand. You believe him. Slender doesn't lie; he doesn't have to. Not even to be nice. "-Okay, but I'm gonna tell you where to put them. I need more over- "

"Over there by the bookcase, I know. And no, you will not be. I am not your slave- you're mine as a matter of fact, in case your tiny human brain managed to forget."

"Uhuh." You sure look obedient... you think, smirking at him using a finger to gently rub stickers exactly where you wanted them- seemingly, without even knowing for sure you wanted them right there. He just has taste, you guess.

"You know I could just leave you. And we have a ladder, by the way, but I wont tell you where it is."

"You're an ass."

"Oh, where have I heard that before... " Slender sounds very much like he's rolling nonexistent eyes full sarcasm- you don't know how he does it!

~

By the time night falls, your entire ceiling is covered in intricate constellations made out of plastic, paint and glue and when you look up in the dark its exactly what you wanted. Beautiful glowing stars all across your bedroom ceiling, like alien sprinkles. You let out a happy sigh, all the stress from your day dissipating along with your breath into the open air.

Slender's next to you, an he ruins the moment; naturally. "... ah, yes. Looks just as dumb as I thought."

For once you don't snap back at him; you turn and give the crotchety eldritch monster a tight smile; the best you can muster for him. "Thank you for helping, that was really uncharacteristically nice of you, Slender. I love it."

Gently, without moving at all, Slender says- "... well that was the point, wasn't it."

-and the smile slips right off your face. You're glad its dark, and he probably (hopefully- ) cant see it.

Neither of you say anything else. Not tonight.

[08melancholie]

Hi! First of all: love your writings! Somehow you manage to give me exactly what I want. I have read the lessen your stress one, amazing. Thank you. Lots of loves from the other side of the screen.

Now, I would like to request a one shot Micah/F!Reader (or GN reader if you want) where a really sweet and kind Reader likes Micah and actually wants to sleep with him but is a virgin and kind of shy, in contrast with the rough, brute Micah we all know, who will obviously want to sleep with reader too (either bc he likes them back or simply bc he’s desperate and wants sex, you decide, just please don’t miss characterize him too much, I like my Micah as the asshole he is :’) <3

Thank you very much and I really appreciate your work! <3 have a good day!

thank you sm for the compliments <33 and dw because i like to also keep my men just as scummy at times🙏

Some aspects might be similar to 'Untouched' here (still attached to that fic like a leech chat..) but i'll make sure it still sounds new!

Lose Some; Gain Some. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Micah Bell Is His Own Warning, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, but just a bit at the end, its micah he doesnt know how to be gentle sorry guys, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: You would rather take over doing everyone's chores in camp forever, than ask the question thats currently been plaguing your mind; one of your lowest lows, probably. You were told that a woman's virginity is a precious thing, how you had to lose it to the right person. This, however, you found to be total bullshit. And you wanted nothing more than the man who was Micah Bell to do it for you.

a/n: first ask yippiee!! i am so busy with exams oh lord i barely made time for this😭 i hope its to your liking!!! second ao3 post today im on a roll actually🙏🙏

words: 3,201 | AO3 LINK

Still being a virgin at this age is almost laughable. Well, it is; the girls haven't stopped teasing you since you told them during a game Mary-Beth told everyone about. You had to answer the question asked by Karen—about your sex life—or drink. You answered that you were still a virgin, and a few of them laughed; haven't stopped making jabs at you since. It's almost irritating.

And, your irritation made you slip up—by saying you'd lose your virginity tonight.

"What!? Tonight? With who?" Karen immediately snapped her head in your direction and away from the fresh laundry she and you were folding. There go the consequences of your actions. Who the hell do you even say?

You put down your own laundry back into your lap. "Well," You'll either have to lie your ass off, or go for the truth; but you sure as hell were not going for the latter. "guy I met in the saloon while we were still in Valentine, we've been writing." Not too bad.

Karen chuckled, thankfully buying into your lie. "Well, ain't I happy for you! It's about damn time, anyway." She goes back to the chore, like yourself, and continues your previous conversation.

Let's think logically—or, as logically as you could—about this; you don't exactly trust finding a random man in a bar to do this with, so who is going to eagerly take your virginity? Who would you ask that wouldn't tell anyone in camp about it, keep it between you two for the exchange of taking it from you? Who would you want to take your virginity?

You thought about how sweet Arthur would be; how he'd probably understand and treat you right, talk you through everything while praising you for following his instructions so well. Or maybe Charles; A gentle giant that would worship you as should be, show you how everything is done while talking in that deep tone you love to hear.

And then your mind went completely south of the previous two. You thought about how greedy he'd be, touching and moving his hands all over your body, wanting to feel every crevice under his rough fingertips. How he'd see taking your virginity as a precious thing, how you were told growing up, something you wanted him to have—and also as the biggest ego boost ever. He'd probably be a complete tease, too, nor would he talk you through the process like the other two. He'd probably just go for it, no instructions as you scrambled for what you had to do while he—

Jesus Christ, that's the last person you should be even 'just considering'.

Micah Bell is NOT an option here; forget it. Even if the heat between your legs didn't agree with these terms, you would not give your first time to that bastard. He was just an egotistical, rude, mouthy degenerate. Why the hell was the thought of how poorly he'd treat the situation getting you so worked up? You're practically soaking your garments over this bastard; and that's a problem.

Oh, but it's so tempting; this, unfortunately, wasn't the first time you've caught yourself thinking of him, imagining him in bed—which is reasonably worse than the former. Could you refuse yourself this small want? When you think about it, he might be one of the only people here who'd jump to get intimate without question, seeing how he catcalls and flirts with most of camp; including yourself a few times. God, were you really going to do this? How would you even bring it up?

This was something you needed to think of on the way, because it was nearing nighttime and you'd probably lose him to the darkness in the outskirts of camp, where he's usually found. As soon as you finished folding the laundry, you excused yourself from Karen and went to find Micah, thinking over what you would say to him. You had a whole dialogue figured out by the time you spotted him smoking by Baylock, probably having gotten done tending to the horse after the job he went on today. You really had to just brace yourself and follow your little plan, while hoping it'll turn out how you envisioned it to.

He noticed you approaching while you were a few steps away, the nervousness in your body language not hard to make out; hands clasped together, eyes focusing everywhere but on his own, your steps almost reluctant. He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a drag from the cigarette. "Look who it is; worried I'mma bite 'ya?"

You were barely able to give a reaction to his words, your nerves making you go almost silent. "Hah, no.. no, I'm..." Come on! We practiced this six times already! As soon as your eyes darted to his own greyish-blues, you lost your goddamn ability to speak. For the love of God; get your shit together. "Listen; this is very hard for me to even say out loud." Well, it's a good start.

Micah's eyebrows furrow slightly, your sudden shyness compared to the usual quips you could muster up back to his flirting or teasing very abnormal. But, he doesn't comment on it, wanting to hear you out before he teased you further. "Go on then, girl." He speaks, tossing his cigarette elsewhere.

The embarrassment this will leave you in will be history. "Okay.. so, uh.. I need your help with something—let's say." Your words just make him more confused; speaking to him in these absurd riddles. "Would you just.. hear me out?"

The blonde man nods after a moment, folding his arms over his chest while leaning back on the tree. Okay, you can get the words out, trust yourself.

"Would you.. and it's just a one-time thing, may I add." You start, a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks as you tried to think of what you were saying; you were about to ask Micah to get intimate with you. Yeah, you don't think this low can be matched. Nonetheless, no giving up now. "Would you take.. take my uh.. virginity?" As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to hold back from fleeing the scene. "Listen—I lied to the girls and I just.. fuck, it's you."

Micah's had a small smirk on his face, mostly directed towards your nervous and shy state, until the sentence finally left your mouth. His smile dropped and he assumed he heard you wrong. "What'd you say.? Would I take.. your virginity?" He repeats back to you, definitely sure he's heard you wrong. But as you slowly nod your head, unable to open your mouth any longer, his eyes slowly widen a little more, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, goddamn. You're one bold 'lil thing, ain'tcha?" Here comes the teasing you envisioned.

You roll your eyes to the comment. "I don't need your comments, Micah. You in or not? I'll gladly find someone else." You threaten, biting your cheek. Don't make me find someone else.

He perks up at your empty threat. "Hey—no, don't threaten me now, doll," He leans off the tree and gets right in your personal space, hands on his gun belt. "you know I love to help a lady in need out." He purrs at you, looking down almost menacingly.

"Good," You murmur, the closer he got the more nervous it made you. "then.. it's settled." It's only when he stands right before you, hands running up from your outer thighs to your sides, that you start processing what you've gotten yourself into.

His hands glide over your waist, feeling you up through your shirt. "Surprised yer still untouched, many would love a little body like this in their hands." His words and the small squeeze to your sides send butterflies straight to your stomach; you could practically lose it right then and there. "But it's only little ole me that gets it, huh?" His claim is followed by a darkish chuckle, ringing in your ears. He stops his hands over your ribs and the underside of your chest, looking down shamelessly at the little cleavage your shirt provides. "Well then; my tent?"

It took him barely a few seconds to get you through the flaps of his tent, tying the canvas shut and making sure you've got the bit of privacy camp life can offer. It takes him even less time to shove you down to his cot, seating yourself on the mattress and looking up at him settling atop you, knees around your outer thighs. "Don't you look pretty under me like this." His hands cup around the underside of your jawline, thumbs running up and down the outline of your face. "So, ever kissed a feller?"

You raise an eyebrow at the question. "Not that much of a prude." Your quick response gets a gruff chuckle out of him for a brief moment, before he'd leaned down and captured your lips with his, setting a nice and quick pace for the kiss. You return it with just as much swiftness, hand reaching for his belt buckle and gripping it, earning an appreciative sound out of Micah. "Good girl," His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, trying to enter your mouth rather quickly; but you don't complain, quickly complying. He gets himself an immediate taste of you, tongue swirling around in your mouth as if mapping out the contour of the body part. He goes back to exploring the rest of your body with his hands, moving them all around your sides and waist before stopping at the hem of your shirt and breaking away from your mouth briefly. "Let me see what I'm workin' with, doll." You breathe in the air that the kiss knocked out of you for a moment before wordlessly nodding, lifting your arms up for him to slide the shirt off, peeling it away from your torso and arms as you're sat almost bare from the stomach up now, only covered by your bra. Your shirt is tossed elsewhere, and he goes back to appreciating the view in front of him—or well, under him.

"Oh, you're perfect, little lady." He doesn't hesitate to reach his hands to your chest almost immediately, cupping you through the bra while running his thumbs on the upper flesh that was exposed. His fingers are as calloused as you envisioned, as if moulding your soft flesh with every swipe of his digits on your skin. He knows his way around your body, probably from the experience you lack. One hand stops groping you and moves to your back again, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it. Why is it that your shyness is only hitting you now? As soon as he starts moving your bra straps down to reveal your bare chest to him, you finally process that he's about to see you nude, and you definitely show some signs of reluctance. He notices your sudden demeanour change and looks from your chest to your eyes. "Come on, I don't judge, princess. Bet you're realll purty under here." His finger slips between your cleavage and hooks to the middle of your bra that connects the two pieces as he tugs at the material, slowly moving it away from your bare chest. It slips off your shoulders and arms, and you feel like a prey being inspected by it's hunter under that dark gaze Micah's blues hold. "Like I said.. damn beautiful."

Your shyness and nerves don't pass him by, and he doesn't want you to feel uneasy while he gets what he wants, so he decides to try and ease you up with another kiss, leaning up and snaking one hand to the back of your head to pull you in while the other went to your jean button, undoing it before moving to the zipper. The kiss definitely helped calm you a bit, your hands on his shoulders now as you clung to his shirt, kissing back with a small hum in your throat. He works your zipper down and hooks his fingers into your waistband, breaking the kiss again. "Lift your hips real quick," When you comply, he pulls your jeans down and you help him by kicking them off when they reach your ankles. His hand finds itself right between your legs, swiping at your still-clothed and warm entrance to find you just as aroused as he was. "damn, lookat'chu. Surprised a lady sweet as you'd be this wet over fuckin' a bastard like me." You almost moan at his comment, your garments definitely as damp as you felt them between your legs, drawing your shyness and embarrassment to a whole new level.

He leans away from you to strip his jeans off, first unclasping his gun belt and placing it over to where your shirt was, slowly moving into unzipping and undoing any other restraint that stopped him from getting naked. He looks to you—just watching him strip his pants off—and chuckles briefly. "Well? Get them panties off, sweetheart. Ain't need experience for that." You snap your eyes away from the small peek of a happy trail on his stomach that you, shamelessly at that, were staring at and stand up momentarily to slip your undergarments off, tossing them just shy of the other articles of clothing. "Mm, good, good.." He hums, letting his jeans drop before wasting no time with his drawls, slipping them off and freeing the leaky, visibly throbbing erection that was hidden in it. Your eyes scan over the length; it doesn't look too big, you can probably take it...

But where many assume Micah lacks in length—he makes up for in thickness.

He positions you to turn and bend over the cot slightly, hands on the mattress and back slightly arched. He's moving you around like a doll, positioning you to his liking. He lets out a small whistle when he's got you exactly how he wants you. "Ain't often I get a chance to do this type of thing... Almost feels like an early birthday gift." He chuckles while running one hand down your spine and moving to your hip, stroking himself with the other. He swipes two fingers over your entrance—earning himself a small moan—and uses it, mixed with some of his precum, to moisten his member up. "Now, might hurt a bit, ain't gonna lie to 'ya." You knew that much, mostly why you were adamant to the idea of sex for a while, but it can't be that bad, can it? "But we'll try to keep calm, eh girl?" He punctuates his last sentence with a squeeze to your hip before his tip slides between your warm folds, slickening himself up some more while he rubs his cock just shy of your entrance—unable to help himself from teasing you some. You let out a plethora of meek moans and huffs, your cunt itching for him to just ease it in. After a moment, he stops his tip at your entrance, ready to slide in. "I'mma go slow, try to make it.. durable for 'ya."

There's definitely a small stretch mixed into the overwhelming feeling of your walls being filled by Micah's thick shaft, clenching around him as you sigh and gasp to every inch filling you. "Shh, you're alright.. look," He reaches one hand over around you, two fingers pressing to your clit and making slow circles on it. Your sighs turn into small moans again. "Yeah.. good, focus on ma' hand, baby." He hums, slowly starting to bottom out into your pussy. His hips meet your rear as he continued to rub over your nub, giving you a brief moment to adjust before he pulls out to the tip—then slides right back in. The pain isn't as bad as people made it out to be, but some have a higher pain tolerance either way. You do your best to focus on the sensation Micah's rough fingers are playing on your clit, more than the way his cock slams into you and creates an almost echo-ey sound of skin-on-skin slapping, filling the tent with the suggestive melody.

The repetitive motion of his dick brushing your gummy walls has you on cloud-nine; you're gasping and moaning, letting his name slip past your lips in a pitched tone, grasping fistfuls of the sheets underneath you as his pace slowly gets faster per thrust. "Don't think it's smart I cum inside," He chuckles, punctuating himself with another slam of his hips into your ass, followed by your sweet little whine, almost like a protest. "you want me to?" He asks curiously due to your whine, and his grin gets so much wider when you nod your head, and his pace turns relentless. He starts fucking into you how he likes, trying to get himself to cum while rubbing you faster to get you there with him. "Can't wait to feel you clench this pretty cunt around me," He purrs with a small kiss to the nape of your neck before his focus is back on fucking his throbbing cock into you, getting himself closer by the moment.

You feel your own orgasm start to approach, your legs slightly jittery from the upcoming feeling. Micah takes quick note of this change and rubs your clit faster, drawing more whiny moans out of you that get muffled by the action of burying your head into the mattress; last thing you need is someone hearing you moaning Micah's name. Your whines are breathless and abrupt, getting cut off by each of Micah's quick thrusts into your cunt, all until you finally feel yourself tip over the edge and you cum, the clench of your pussy around Micah enough to get him there just a moment after you. He buries his cock deep into you, holding you up from collapsing into the bed by the hips as his chest makes contact with your back, the side of his head on the very top of your torso as he gasps breathlessly. "Ah.. there we go.." You can feel him empty himself inside you, your shaky legs barely supporting you with Micah doing most of the work.

He gives himself a moment before pulling out and placing you down to lay on the cot. "Let me tell you somethin', darlin';" He gets his underwear and jeans off the floor, slipping into both before leaning over you to whisper into your ear. "This definitely ain't 'gon be a one-time thing—not with how addicting that cunt is, or with how 'ya love to scream my name." He purrs lowly while clasping his gun belt back up, running a hand down your spine and stopping at your ass with a firm squeeze before moving you to lay more comfortably on his bed. "Well, get comfortable, think I'm up for a smoke.." He lazily tosses a random blanket in his tent over you—it's the thought that counts, apparently—before leaving you in his tent to rest up.

And you agree; he's addicting, and you will be fucking again.

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated!! we love the micah smut where hes still an ass to us <3

[starry-bi-sky]

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

[sungjinhos]

i think we married in vegas - teaser

✷ You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst (?), smut, a weird amount of pining (!)

✷ word count teaser: 499

✷ word count fic: more than 13k - projection: around 20k?/25k?

✷ Thea note: hi y'all, as you guys may know I'm doing nanowimo, and somehow, I got addicted to this story and I'm making it bigger day by day. I still have a very big chunk to go (around 6/7 scenes but it can be more who knows not me since I don't plan when I am writting!). Anyhow I am pretty sure it gonna take a while till the whole thing sees the light of day but I wanted to share a tiny bit with you because I am actually super hyped about and I suck at keeping secrets <3 Hope you guys like it, and get as excited as me (or at least half, actually I can take a third!! or even an ounce!!). I do not do the whole tag list thing but if anyone wants to get tagged just let me know somehow <3

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, your own Satan-spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull, and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be, right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did”

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What that was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to have proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because, for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated. Oh no. You guys actually did it.

[zoandreez]

the stars keep on calling my name, pt 1: ikran flying ⋆·˚ ༘ *

pairing: sully reader x ao'nung

summary: after spending your time in the awa'altu clan with the metkayina children, you've feel a bit homesick and decide to run back to what you know. a suprise comes to you when a special visitor wants to tag along. how long can he survive on an ikran?

word count: 798, a short one

warnings: if ur an avatar nerd, this doesn't really make sense plot-wise. sorry. (i don't care.)

a/n: sorry for taking 8 n a half months to make something but i got a few things for yall.. i hope. and yes i know this fic is kind of unrealistic but aren't they all? emd.

you were sick.

not literally, god no. you'd rather the sky people take your life now than show sign of weakness on this godforsaken water park. you hated it here.

your disdain for this place ran deep. you’ve endured nearly a year at awa’altu, long after the war had ended. don’t get me wrong, the clan's hospitality was great. you cherished the friendships formed over the year and were awestruck by the ocean's beauty. however, your heart longed for home.

the forest.

the trees you grew up with, and the familiar vines and cliffs you've climbed your entire life. and just suddenly, without warning, your father uprooted us all and relocated us to a barren land of wet sand and peculiar fish. and of course, you understood why we were doing this. you didnt want to hurt your clan by staying with your omaticayan family, and with the sky people haunting you, it seemed more than likely that staying with tonowari, ronal, and the rest of the metkayina was your best option. but still, it hurt. so,

you were leaving.

you finally mustered up the courage to sneak out of your marui that was wonderfully woven by the women of the clan, just for you and your family. it was late, so you didnt have to worry about your family seeing you as you continued to walk past the other pods.

lo'ak knew about your plan. tuk cried the night prior, but your feathered kisses to her forehead and promises to come back for her seemed to soothe her. kiri was upset that you didn't take her with you. neteyam would have told mom and dad, so he's oblivious to it all.

the stars glimmered in the night, making your bioluminescence shimmer in a way that made you look beautiful. as your feet left marks through the sand, your stride was confident. it was a way he had never seen before.

ao’nung.

you and ao’nung never had the best relationship, especially with you being from a foreign clan and even having the slightest bit of demon blood, even though it didnt show through your three fingers. he despised you and your family. except,

he couldnt get your beauty out of your head. he never could, and yet now, it was even worse.

striding down the wet sand, you could almost feel it turn into the mud and grass you would feel if you were back home. you could smell the mist, although it didn’t have a particular scent. it just smelled.. home-y. you took your ikran by its queue, the same way you would tug on a vine while climbing a tree, and hoisted yourself on before making the bond.

you had to feel the agitation in your ikran before you noticed ao'nung pathetically attempting to crawl onto her tail. she began to screech and flail her tail around before you protested.

"wait!" you whisper-yelled as he almost went flying into the ocean.

"where do you think you're going??" ao'nung said in a mocking tone. he was teasing you, but you weren't kidding this time.

"i'm leaving."

a moment of silence rolled over. ao'nung's face contorted in a way you'd never seen before. surely he'd run to tell your dad. but then.. his lips curled on his face. was he.. trying to smile? regardless, it wasn't a good look for him. after a while of you blankly staring back at him, he stopped.

"you're serious?"

"yes." you said before you turned away, shifted your posture, and your ikran stretched its wings. you leaned forward before the first flap into the air lifted you to home. the wings lifted..

"wait!" he shouted over your ikran's rustles.

"what?" you said agitated. now that the idea was taking place you couldn't wait to leave.

"take me with you."

now it was your turn to laugh. it was also your turn to ask if he was serious. and you still didn't believe him as he half-ass climed his way up onto your ikran.

"ao'nung, get off. i'm leaving."

"no."

"..suit yourself," you muttered. fly as reckless as you can, knock him off. your inner thoughts amused your ikran as she flew off as steep as she could.

ao'nungs screams could have been heard throughout the whole kingdom, if they weren't thousands of feet in the air. he held on to you as hard as possible as your ikran made short stops, dives, and spins you didn't even know she could do. your hair flew behind you into his face, so every now and then the putters of him spitting out a few lost strands made you laugh. eventually you told her to settle down.

out of breath, a smug ao'nung commented, "are you done trying to get me to fall off now?"

"yeah," you giggled through his sighs.

my short apology

... my bad cuz